We all need a little….REDEMPTION

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New Release from Robin Covington!

Emory Cabell is leaving the lies behind her.

Finding out that huge chunk of your life has been a lie and that you’re the half-sister to America’s country music queen is game changer. Determined to meet the sibling she never knew and compelled to pursue the music career she’s always wanted, Emory leaves her small town and heads to Nashville. Thrown by the bustle of Music City and the cutthroat dealing of the business, she finds unexpected shelter in a musical partnership with country music’s baddest bad boy.

Zane has his eyes set on the prize.

Known as a man who never stays the night, Zane is reliable only when it comes to his music. Years of paying his dues has gained him the coveted lead guitarist spot on the “must see” music tour of the year. Hoping this gig will lead to his own single recording contract, he agrees to write a few songs with Emory but he’s blown away by the sexual chemistry sizzling between them and leveled by his feelings for this quiet woman with the beautiful soul.

Can love be more than just a line in a song?

Darkness and light…they should not work. But one night in her bed proves they’re hotter than the number one single they wrote together. When the spotlight sheds light on all of Zane’s past sins, Emory struggles with trusting him with her heart.  When a duo-only recording contract threatens everything Zane has worked towards and challenges everything he thought he knew about himself, he recklessly betrays her trust. With his life at a crossroads, will he choose the music or the future with a woman whose love might just be his redemption?

See where it all began with book 1 of the Nashville Nights series, Temptation.

Get More information at: Goodreads  | AmazonBarnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

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CAN YOU SAY EXCERPT??

With wet hair, a travel mug of coffee and a KIND bar in hand I throw my bag into the trunk of the cab and pile into the back with my guitar and direct the cabbie to head to the parking lot near the rehearsal spaces of Kit’s record label. When I pull into the lot, the buses are lined up and people are wandering around the lot like zombies looking for brains.
My blood pressure spikes as my feet hit the pavement and the familiar jolt of excitement builds up in my chest until I fully expect it to shoot out my fingertips. I love writing and performing, going on the road for several months and the prospect of playing in huge, sold-out arenas is giving me a boner that’s making jeans tight. And on this tour in addition to the lead guitarist spot I get to be an opening acts in many of the cities.
I can almost feel the pen in my hand as I sign the recording contract.
“Mac, are you ready my man?” I roll up beside the drummer, Mac Giles, and we fist bump both grinning ear-to-ear. Mac is a road junkie like me, loves the crowds and playing to a full house. We’ll be riding together on the band bus along with the bassist, Aaron Rice, and the keyboardist, Mike Leonard. With these four guys I predict lots of X-box tournaments and jam sessions and I can’t fucking wait.
“Zane, this shit is going to be awesome.” He nudges me with one of his beefy arms and grins. “Sold out tour mother fucker.”
I grin back. “Sold out tour mother fucker.”
“Did you even roll out of your own bed this morning?” He eyeballs me as we make our way over to our bus. “What did you do? Give her a nine-inch wake-up call and make it home in time just to shower and grab coffee?”
“Something like that,” I answer, refusing to kiss and tell my playmate’s secrets. “I packed last night so it was all good.”
“If you get as much tail as you did last summer, your dick is going to fall off,” he warns, his smile evil as he continues. “And I’ll be there to soothe all the sad “pick collectors.”
“That was just that group of rabid fan club girls in Utah and I know better than to leave my stash lying around where they can get their hands on it.” I lost an entire case of custom-made copper guitar picks when my hookup in Salt Lake City stole them and then sold them on E-bay. I will never make that mistake again. “Those picks aren’t fucking cheap.”
“Those Utah girls were freaky,” Mac smiles as he shakes his head. We played three nights there and it was everything you hear about concert tours.
“Well, apparently what they say about the quiet ones is true,” I say and stop when I bump into his large frame. “What the fuck, Mac?”
I turn my head to where he is slack-jawed staring and I understand exactly what the hell it is. Emory Cabell. Backup singer. Exquisite guitarist. Honey blonde with legs that go on for miles and breasts that would fit perfectly in my palms.
And Kit Landry’s new-found baby sister.
We both ogle as she bends over and tries to lift a heavy suitcase. Emory is wearing cutoff jean shorts, a little red t-shirt and flip-flops. Her legs are endless and the cutoffs are just short enough to give a hint of the sweet little curve of her ass.
“Oh my God,” Mac says, his voice strained with the tension I feel in my body.
“Fuckin-A.” I shift slightly to redistribute the half-hard boner in my jeans and barely bite back the laugh that is bubbling in my chest. God was not kind when he put Emory Cabell on my path. She’s a walking wet dream pulled right out my fantasy archive and she’s so off-limits that she might as well live on Alcatraz but my dick is ignoring the memo.
We watch for a few moments longer as she struggles with the multiple pieces of luggage she’s trying to get on the bus she will share with Kit and the other back-up singer, Sandra. I shove my own duffle at Mac, ignoring his grunt of pain as it plows into his abdomen.
“I should go help her,” I say.
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I think I should.”
“Just remember than helping her with her luggage does not involve either of you taking off your clothes.”
“And that is a fucking shame,” I say and walk towards her.

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