Release alert – How to Love a Rockstar is live!

How to Love a Rockstar is live! Are you ready for Virginia and Dylan’s story? Virginia certainly isn’t. She wants nothing to do with Dylan. But he’s determined and refuses to give up. The shy librarian has ensnared him and he has no desire to get free.  

Are you ready for:

💋 A sexy rockstar romance;

💋 An opposites attract romance;

💋 A shy librarian who’s hiding a steel backbone;

💋 A rockstar who’s also a cinnamon roll hero;

💋 He falls first;

💋 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 before you decide to exercise your one-click finger? No problem! Here’s the first chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 1
Virginia – the shy girl who doesn’t appreciate being manipulated by her friend

11 years ago


I notice Dylan walking my way down the hallway and duck my chin until my hair covers my face. It’s possible I also lean forward until my head is nearly inside of my locker.

Indigo bumps my shoulder. “You should ask him out.”

I gasp. “Me? Ask him out? Have you lost your mind?”

Dylan is one of the cool kids in our senior class. He plays guitar and is in a band with Indigo’s boyfriend, Cash. Whereas, I’m the shy girl who spends most of her time in the library studying. Cool kid and shy girl do not go together.

“It’s the Sadie Hawkins dance this weekend. Girls ask the boys out. It’s tradition.”

I know it’s tradition. I also know, “I’m not asking him out.”

“I happen to know he doesn’t have a date,” she sings. “And the band doesn’t have a gig.”

“He’s probably waiting for Britney to ask him.”

Britney is the head cheerleader. She’s blonde and bubbly and the most popular girl in school. She also believes her mission in life is to torture me.

One more year. One more year. And then I can escape this high school and this town for good.

“Hey, Indigo,” Dylan greets as he passes us.

I sigh. He’s just so darn cute. His blond hair is shaggy and in need of a cut causing him to spend half the day flicking his head to get the hair out of his eyes. Thank goodness. Because I could gaze into those ocean blue eyes all day long. Assuming I could ever actually meet his gaze.

He reminds me of a typical surfer boy. Which makes sense since we live in San Diego. Except he’s not wearing board shorts and flipflops. He’s wearing worn jeans with holes in the knees and a t-shirt from the band the Foo Fighters. His vibe doesn’t say beach, it screams bad boy.

“Don’t you have a study period now?” Indigo asks and brings me out of my daydream of being serenaded to by Dylan. Never mind Dylan isn’t the singer of the band.

“I do. I’m off to the library. Do you need me to research something for you?”

“No, silly. I need you to ask Dylan to the Sadie Hawkins dance.”

“What part of ‘never going to happen’ are you having difficulty understanding?”

She chuckles. “All of it.”

“Indigo,” I grumble.

Indigo has been my best friend since Britney and her friends decided it would be fun to trip me the first week of our freshman year. I ended up sprawled on my face on the floor with my books scattered throughout the hallway.

Indigo helped me pick up my things and gave Britney a piece of her mind. It was glorious. I love her like a sister but I don’t enjoy being ordered around.

“I haven’t hung out with him much since Cash and I haven’t been dating long, but Dylan seems like a nice guy. He’s not the same as these other assholes in this school.”  

Nice guy and guy willing to date the mouse no one notices unless they need someone to cheat off of in calculus class are not the same things.

I don’t tell Indigo what I’m thinking, though. She’ll get mad at me for putting myself down. It’s not putting myself down if it’s the truth but it’s a waste of breath trying to explain that to her. She doesn’t listen anyway.

The girl may be my best friend, but she’s also stubborn. Just ask our English teacher Mr. Jarrod what happened when he gave Indigo a B on an essay in our junior year. Spoiler alert – she got an A in English class last year.   

“I’m not asking him out,” I insist. I’m not asking any boy out. I’ll skip the humiliation for the day, thank you very much.

“Tell you what.”

Uh oh. Those words are never the bearer of good news.

“If you ask him out, I’ll go with you to that exhibition you’ve been raving about.”

My eyes widen. “You will? It’s at the Getty.”

She shrugs. “Sure. I can drive.”

I study her. She’s not cracking her knuckles or shuffling her feet. In other words, she’s not lying. This is awesome. I’m dying to go to the William Blake exhibition, but the Getty is in LA and I have no way to get there. I don’t have a car and money is tight.

“But you have to ask Dylan to the dance.”

“He’s just going to say no.”

“You don’t know until you ask.” The bell rings. “Gotta go.” She doesn’t rush off, though. Nope. She stares me down. “Ask him.”

I scowl at her back as she saunters off. Easy for her to say. She’s dating the coolest kid in school. Meanwhile, the only date I’ve gone on was with a football player who wanted me to do his English Lit homework for him. He didn’t get an A in English last year.

I slam my locker shut and make my way to the library. Enough about boys. I have a history test I need to study for. Good grades are my ticket out of this town.


My heartrate increases at Dylan’s shout. But I ignore him. He’s not trying to catch my attention. Why would he?

“Hey, you!”

I slow and scan the hallway. It’s empty except for the two of us. Is he actually speaking the me?

I stop and wait for him to catch up to me.

“M-m-me?” I squeak.

“Indigo said you wanted to speak to me.”

How dare Indigo? She knows I would never ask Dylan out and yet she sends him over to me?

“At least, I think it was you,” Dylan says when I don’t speak because I’m too busy figuring out ways I can kill my best friend without getting caught burying her body.

Dang it. What to do? I can walk away. I’d be humiliated but what’s new? Or, I can ask him out and he’ll say no. In which case, I will also be humiliated. It appears humiliation is the special of the day. It often is.

I glance up at him from beneath my lashes. He’s gazing down at me in confusion.

“Do you need help?” he asks.

“Um, no.” I blow out a breath and force myself to speak the words. I can do this. I’m shy not a coward. “Do you want to go to the dance with me?”

He shoves his hair out of his eyes. If I weren’t a scaredy-cat, I’d gaze into those ocean blue eyes instead of ducking my chin to study the floor. Trust me. The floor isn’t very interesting. I’ve spent enough time studying it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.”

Probably because I mumbled. I wince. I know better than to mumble.

I clear my throat. “Do you want to go to the dance with me?”

Now he probably thinks I have a speech impediment considering how slow I spoke. Gah! I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I be a normal girl and speak with a normal voice at a normal tempo?

“The dance this Saturday?”

I nod.

“Sorry, I can’t.”

His phone beeps and he glances down at it and winces. Without another word, he rushes away. Meanwhile, my face is hot enough to set off the fire alarm.

I creep into the library and find a spot in the back away from everyone where I can wallow in my humiliation alone.

Never again. I will never ask a boy out again. And I certainly won’t crush on Dylan – the ‘nice guy’ – anymore.

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