most important thing in his life—his band—just as he was falling in love. A
year has passed, and Oblivion is returning from hiatus. And Nick is ready to
ask Lila to spend forever with him, even if he won’t have his best friend at
his side for the ceremony.
to find his way back to the thing that sustained him in his darkest hours, then
grew to be his biggest demon. Margo has been at his side, but she’s tired of
him denying his dreams. With her help, he’s ready to admit it’s showtime.
for his best friend…and face him on the stage that united them so long ago.
the driver’s seat in Owned, and the ride’s gonna rock. This is the final book
in the Lost in Oblivion rockstar series.**
Simon’s chest constricted. The crash of piano and soaring blend of Margo’s strings was as powerful as it was haunting. He’d been expecting a lively jaunt. Jazz had demanded Frank Turner for more than half the ride up from the city.
But no. It was a passionate and sweeping song that had more in common with an epic battle of man and nature. In his head it felt like there should be a piano on top of a cliff a la 90’s Bon Jovi videos in MTv’s heyday.
Jazz’s fingers dove up and down the keys and Margo followed her as if she was tethered to every note. The song got bigger and bigger and he itched to match it.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found the urge to sing. He sang lately out of spite. To prove that he could. But the actuality of the pull had him so out of sorts that he had his hand on the doorknob to the room before he knew what he was doing.
Jazz looked over her shoulder when the door opened. Her purple tipped lashes fluttered so wide they touched her eyebrows. He quietly sat on the stool with the winding arm. Tension fried the edges of every nerve. Why the hell did his fingers ache? He looked down at the white of his skin under his nails from the death grip he had on the arm.
He could do this.
He released the chair arm.
It wasn’t the box.
The room he’d practiced in before.
He was used to the closet in Ripper Records. It gave him cold sweats, but he was used to it.
Here he was in front of Jazz. Sitting right beside her.
In front of strangers.
In front of Margo. He kept the music separate from her for so long, it was odd to have her in his space.
Jazz handed him her notebook.
He took it with shaking fingers. He cleared his throat. “Play it through from the top?”
Jazz nodded. He hummed his way through it once, scanning her lyrics as he followed along. When they went through it a second time his brain was on fire to join in. He wanted his voice to match that sound.
Around the last quarter of the song, he let the words out in a whisper. Margo brought down the power of her strings to account for his sheer cowardice.
He cleared his throat. “Again.”
He closed his eyes and let the music take him. This time there was a guitar added into the lilting opening of the song. His voice was rough with disuse.
No, don’t concentrate on that.
He needed to find the heart of the song.
Jazz’s words were heartfelt, but they weren’t quite his. He followed instincts that had never steered him wrong before. He changed the bridge and let his voice soar up with the epic battle of violin and piano.
His voice evened and went bell clear as he climbed up an octave he hadn’t touched in two full years. He bowed his head as Gray came in with the guitar solo that hadn’t been there the first few times through.
But it was right.
Logan piped it in from the main studio.
Gray and Margo merged until there was nothing but a breathtaking crescendo. He stepped in. His voice ached with the loss that was burned into the lyrics. His head fell back as he brought it full circle with the final verse, and finally…the bridge.
The room was silent.
He was terrified to open his eyes. He avoided both of the girls as he twisted in the chair and went out the door and past a stunned Gray. He couldn’t look at Margo. Not now. He couldn’t watch when the disappointment filled her big brown eyes.
He took the stairs two at a time and scanned the area for the nearest exit.
music and men, so she figured why not write about both? When she’s not writing,
she’s screaming at men’s college basketball games on TV, playing her music too
loud or causing trouble. Sometimes simultaneously.USA Today bestselling author Taryn Elliott is
obsessed with rock stars, men, and her unending playlists–maximizing these
things seemed like a very good idea. When she’s not writing, she’s losing hours
to hot men on TV, and/or a graphic design project. Multitasking is her middle
name.They decided to combine forces and found that hey…this writing deal is even
more awesome when you collaborate with your best friend.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl