It’s time for the last Sinner to fall! How to Catch a Rockstar is live!

Are you ready for the last Sinner to fall? I know, I know. Jett was a bit of an asshole at the end of How to Be a Rockstar’s Girlfriend. But I promise he redeems himself. 🙏

Jett fights his way to love the entire book. He never intended to have children and now his personal assistant, Aurora, is pregnant after he gave into temptation for one night. 

While Aurora is ecstatic – if somewhat scared – she’s pregnant, Jett is terrified with a capital T. He wants nothing to do with Aurora or the baby. But then Aurora’s boss threatens her and she ends up living with him. 

Can Jett resist the temptation of Aurora when she’s living down the hall from him? 

Are you ready for:
💋 An assistant who accidentally gets knocked up by her sexy rockstar boss;
💋 An assistant and a rockstar who end up living together;
💋 An assistant and a rockstar who are too busy claiming how much they hate each other to realize they really don’t hate each other at all; 
💋 A rockstar who finally finds a home;
💋 A quirky small town romance;
💋 A gang of elderly matchmakers who are too sneaky for their own good;
💋 Witty banter that will have you laughing out loud

Need more convincing? Read the first chapter below!

Chapter 1

Aurora – a woman who thinks she has everything under control

“Come on. Come on,” I mutter as I dance in front of the stupid automatic doors at the emergency room.

The doors finally begin to open and I force myself through the gap. My purse gets caught – Ugh! I don’t have time for this! – and I tug on it until it flies through the opening and slaps me on the thigh.

I ignore the pain and run to the nurse’s station. “Jett Peterson,” I gasp out. “Where is he?”

The nurse purses her lips as she fiddles with her computer. “There is no Jett Peterson here,” she finally says.

“But I was notified—”

I slam my mouth shut when I realize of course there’s no Jett Peterson. Jett would never use his real name. Duh. The groupies from Cash & the Sinners would have the hospital surrounded in no time while they screamed the drummer’s name.

And it would be my job to get rid of them, manage the press, and ensure Jett wasn’t bothered. It’s not as if their manager, my boss, would handle any of the work.

I clear my throat and try again. “Do you have an Evel Knievel?”

Since Jett is an adrenaline junkie, he often uses the stunt performer’s name when he’s incognito. How it’s incognito to use the name of a stuntman who’s been dead for over a decade is beyond my comprehension. But it usually works.

The nurse consults her computer again. “He’s in exam room three.”

“Thank you,” I say as I hurry toward the exam rooms.

I wish I could say I don’t know where exam room three is, but this is not my first rodeo at the hospital with Jett. Not even close. I hope he hasn’t broken any bones. Despite what he thinks, he can’t go on stage with a broken arm.

The doctor is exiting the room when I arrive. I stop him.

“Doctor.” I flash him a smile. “How is he?”

“He has a concussion and several contusions but no broken bones.”

No broken bones is good but a concussion is not.

“How severe is the concussion? Will you be keeping him overnight? Does he need any additional tests? Does someone need to stay with him? Does he have any memory loss?”

The doctor’s eyes widen at my rapid-fire questions. Like I said. Not my first rodeo.

“It’s a mild concussion but we need to keep him overnight for observation.”

I frown. Jett is going to lose his mind when he hears he has to stay overnight in the hospital. For someone who thinks it’s fun to jump out of perfectly fine airplanes, he has an aversion to hospitals. The emergency room is okay, but put him on a bed and wheel him toward the elevator? He loses his dang mind.

Could this day get any worse?

“We’ll need a private room and a service elevator to transfer him upstairs.”

The doctor sighs. “I guess he wasn’t lying about being a rockstar.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll send someone over to help with the arrangements.”

“Thank you.”

He walks off with a scowl on his face and I face the door. I straighten my back and gather my courage for another encounter with Jett the man who has a smile and a laugh for everyone but me. To me, he’s an asshole. He makes me question my decision to remain the personal assistant for Cash & the Sinners at least twenty times a day.

The band’s manager, Mike, has offered me other bands to assist numerous times. I’ve turned him down each and every time. I’ve got the rest of the band members properly trained. I don’t want to start all over again.

Here goes nothing.

I push through the door and march into the room. I skid to a halt when my eyes land on Jett lying in the hospital bed. My heart thuds in my chest and my breath hitches. The man is a jerk but he’s a mighty fine jerk.

His shirt is off, showcasing his toned chest and abs. How I long to lick every inch of those hard muscles. I would outline his tattoos with my tongue while my hands explored every inch of him. I fist my hands before I reach for him.

I may long to spend nights tangled up in sweaty sheets with him, but Jett has made it perfectly obvious what he thinks of me. Not much.

“Aurora!”

His shout has me lifting my gaze to meet his. Those piercing blue eyes I want to drown in are currently filled with warmth. How I wish they were filled with warmth because he’s happy to see me. He’s not. He wants something.   

He winks at the nurse cleaning his forehead. “She’s here to spring me out of here.”

And there you have it. The reason he appears happy to see me.

“No can do. You’re here for the night.”

His eyes narrow at me and he scowls.

I motion toward his head. “You have a concussion.”

He bats his eyelashes and sticks out his bottom lip. A lip I long to bite. “But I hate hospitals.”

The nurse steps away from him and I gasp. My feet hurry to him before I can order them to stay where they are.

I lift his hair to study his wound and nearly moan when I feel how silky it feels. Great. Another item to add to the list of ‘things I fantasize about on Jett’s body’. I force those thoughts out of my mind. No drooling over a rockstar when he’s got a big gash on his forehead.

“You have stitches.”

“Didn’t Nurse Luna do a wonderful job of stitching me up?” He winks at the nurse again, and I drop my hand.

What am I doing? No touching Jett.

Luna giggles. “You were an excellent patient.”

“He’s had enough practice,” I mumble under my breath.

“Nurse Luna doesn’t think I need to stay in the hospital overnight.” Jett wiggles his eyebrows at her and she practically swoons.

“He can stay with me. I promise I’ll watch over him all night long.”

“No can do. The doctor says you have to stay overnight for observation.”

“But I would have a nurse to personally take care of me,” Jett pleads.

Luna giggles. It’s obvious what her idea of caring for Jett means.

Rockstars are a pain in my ass. Why did I beg Mike to hire me again? Oh yeah, no one else would give me a job straight out of college and with no experience.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare Jett down. “And what happened the last time you left the hospital with a nurse?”

He smirks. “I had an excellent time.”

“And?”

He huffs. He doesn’t want to admit to what happened in front of the nurse.

“And?” I push because pushing is what I do best.

Jett glares at me but he can’t hold my glare for long. Not to brag but I have the best ‘stare down a rockstar glare’ there is. I could probably teach classes and make a million dollars. Except most people don’t want to stare down a rockstar.  

“The paparazzi found out where I was and rushed the house,” he finally admits.

“And what happened to your companion?”

He ducks his chin. “The press wasn’t nice to her.”

I nod to Nurse Luna. “And now you understand why I can’t allow him to go home with you.”

“Can’t allow him?” She snorts. “You’re not his keeper.”

I kind of am. But if the paparazzi don’t scare her, it’s time to try another tactic. I whip a non-disclosure agreement out of my bag. “I’m going to have to insist you sign this.”

Her nose wrinkles and she steps back.

I shake the document at her. “Sorry, honey. It’s nothing personal, but it is mandatory.”

She snatches the paper and reads the first line. “Non-disclosure agreement? You want me to sign this?” she asks Jett.

He shrugs. “The pleasure of doing business with me.”

“But it says I can’t tell anyone about you.” She flips through the pages. “I can’t post a picture of you on social media. I can’t even tell my friends I had sex with a rockstar.”

I hold out a pen. “It’s standard boilerplate in the industry. I’m sure you understand.”

She throws the agreement at me. “No thanks.” She marches out of the room.

I wait until the door shuts on her before addressing Jett. “What happened?”

“You were being your usual bitch self.”

I lock my muscles before I cringe at his use of the word bitch. It’s not the first time he’s called me one. And it won’t be the last. Being a personal assistant to a rock band is full of fun times.

I point to his forehead and repeat my question. “What happened?”

“It’s no big deal.”

I sigh. I determine what’s a big deal and what isn’t. Not him.

“Was the press there? Did anyone notice you? What kind of media circus am I dealing with?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and I bite my bottom lip as I imagine—

Stop it, Aurora. You are not ogling the man when he’s in a hospital bed. Correction. You are not ogling the man. Period. End of discussion.

“All you care about is your job. What about me and my injuries?”

I snort. “Considering you just tried to pick up the nurse, I think you’re fine.”

He grins. “She was pretty hot, wasn’t she?”

Luna was blonde and had legs up to my neck. In other words, we have nothing in common. I ignore the twinge of jealousy in my stomach. I’ve had enough experience ignoring it by now.

“She was definitely your type,” I mutter as I pull up the entertainment news on my phone.

I should know better by now than to ask the universe if things could get worse.