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About Lick: Stage Dive 1
Waking up in Vegas was never meant to be like this.
Evelyn Thomas’ plans for celebrating her twenty-first birthday in Las Vegas
were big. Huge. But she sure as hell never meant to wake up on the bathroom
floor with a hangover to rival the black plague, a very attractive half-naked
tattooed man, and a diamond on her finger large enough to scare King Kong.
Now if she could just remember how it all happened.
One thing is for certain, being married to rock ’n’ roll’s favorite son is sure to be
a wild ride.
For Hugh.
And also for Mish, who wanted something without zombies.
Contents
About Lick: Stage Dive 1
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Acknowledgements
About Kylie Scott
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
I woke up on the bathroom floor. Everything hurt. My mouth felt like garbage
and tasted worse. What the hell had happened last night? The last thing I
remembered was the countdown to midnight and the thrill of turning twenty-one,
legal at last. I'd been dancing with Lauren and talking to some guy. Then BANG!
Tequila.
A whole line of shot glasses with lemon and salt on the side.
Everything I’d heard about Vegas was true. Bad things happened here, terrible
things. I just wanted to crawl into a ball and die. Sweet baby Jesus, what had I
been thinking to drink so much? I groaned and even that made my head pound.
This pain had not been part of the plan.
“You okay?” a voice enquired, male, deep, and nice. Really nice. A shiver
went through me despite my pain. My poor broken body stirred in the strangest
of places.
“Are you going to be sick again?” he asked.
Oh, no.
I opened my eyes and sat up, pushing my greasy blonde hair aside. His blurry
face loomed closer. I slapped a hand over my mouth because my breath had to be
hideous.
“Hi,” I mumbled.
Slowly, he swam into focus. He was built and beautiful and strangely familiar.
Impossible. I’d never met anyone like him.
He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties—a man, not a boy. He had long,
dark hair falling past his shoulders and sideburns. His eyes were the darkest
blue. They couldn’t be real. Frankly, those eyes were overkill. I’d have swooned
perfectly fine without them. Even with the tired red tinge they were a thing of
beauty. Tattoos covered the entirety of one arm and half his bare chest. A black
bird had been inked into the side of his neck, the tip of its wing reaching up
behind his ear. I still had on the pretty, dirty white dress Lauren had talked me
into. It had been a daring choice for me on account of the way it barely
contained my abundance of boobage. But this beautiful man easily had me beat
for skin on show. He wore just a pair of jeans, some scuffed black boots, a
couple of small silver earrings, and a loose white bandage on his forearm.
Those jeans … he wore them well. They sat invitingly low on his hips and fit
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