“Blow will absolutely blow you away. Scorching-hot chemistry woven into a very poignant story of addiction.”—Sawyer Bennett
Bodhi McKnight has always had everything handed to him on a silver platter: fame, success, money, women. The raven-haired, blue-eyed hottie’s parents are Hollywood A-listers, and when he’s asked to join the all-male band Virtuous Paradox, his star shoots even higher. But so do expectations, leading Bodhi down a destructive path of addiction—until a drop-dead gorgeous guardian angel shows him her sizzling brand of tough love.
When Bodhi ends up in rehab, he doesn’t expect to meet someone as cool and down-to-earth as Kimberly Gordon. Unfazed by his rock-star persona, Kim would rather go horseback riding than fangirl over Bodhi, which is an unfamiliar—and refreshing—feeling. Kim’s the type of person he’s been looking for his entire life: someone who cares about him, not his career or his famous parents. When Bodhi falls, it’s fast and hard. He just hopes that he’s strong enough to protect their love from all the pressures and temptations of the outside world.
Praise for Blow
“Heidi McLaughlin never disappoints. Blow is a sexy, forbidden love story about the dark side of fame, addiction, and finding the light at the end of the tunnel. I couldn’t put it down.”—Nicole Jacquelyn, author of Unbreak My Heart
“Heidi McLaughlin’s Blow is a beautifully romantic story of redemption and triumph—fame at its darkest, but humanity at its brightest.”—Sarah Robinson, author of the Kavanagh Legends series
“Blow will absolutely blow you away. Scorching-hot chemistry woven into a very poignant story of addiction.”—New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett
“Hot, sexy, and completely addicting. Blow has definitely turned into one of my all-time favorite reads!”—New York Times bestselling author, L. P. Dover
“Blow will be your newest addiction! Real and raw, Heidi McLaughlin delivers another emotional hit!”—Stacey Kennedy, USA Today bestselling author of the Dirty Little Secrets series
Includes an excerpt from another Loveswept title.
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
The crowd chants an abbreviation of our name, over and over again. VeeP . . . VeeP . . . VeeP . . . echoes throughout the venue as Brayden, Carson, and I stand side by side with our arms raised high in the air. We exit stage left with me bringing up the rear of the three-man train, and I stumble into Carson when he pulls up short.
“Let’s go back out there,” he says with a shit-eating grin on his face. I shake my head and bypass him, heading right for my assistant, Aspen.
“Come on, man. One last time,” Carson pleads. I roll my eyes, but Aspen is the only one who can see my face. “Listen to that audience. We sold out. Let’s give them one more song.”
Aspen has what I need. I can see the little brown bottle filled with white powder resting in the palm of her hand. It beckons me. Calls my name, ready to invade my system. The nose candy that keeps me awake and able to perform is within arm’s reach, and I have to have it.
I extend my arm to Aspen, who drops the vial into my waiting hand. Even holding it gives me a thrill, although the feeling is short-lived when I’m instructed to turn around and get in line.
I turn, ready to give Carson a piece of my mind, but our manager, Rebel Van Zandt, is standing right there, eyeing me. Rebel’s the baddest in show business and you’re risking your life if you dare to disobey her. Given the opportunity, she’d rip me from limb to limb and watch me bleed out slowly just to get her kicks.
Virtuous Paradox was an unlikely group at the beginning, but we’ve taken the world by storm. What started out as a test quickly turned into a phenomenon. Rebel chose me, along with Brayden and Carson, to form this band. One hurdle back then was I’d never performed in public aside from the yearly Christmas party my Hollywood director father and movie star mother threw. Rebel had seen me sing and apparently was sold. I thought it was a joke until she put the three of us up onstage, took our photo, and asked us all what we saw.
To me, it looked like two dudes with amazing talent, plus me. Yeah, I have charisma, sex appeal, and striking blue bedroom eyes. But that’s not talent. When I saw myself standing next to them, I felt like I didn’t belong. Rebel vowed to prove me wrong.
And she has.
She made promises that I thought could never be reached: number one hits, music videos, the female population lining up to have their picture taken with us, fathers lining up to buy our concert tickets and posters of our ugly mugs soon to be plastered on every teenage girl’s bedroom wall.
We’re household names. Everyone has heard of us. They may not like us, but when our songs come on the radio and they’re alone in their cars, they’re singing along. I know they are. They move their shoulders to the beat, hold their hands up in the air, and shake their butts like they’re the ones performing our songs. When it’s over, they go back to hating us, and that’s okay, because for every one person who doesn’t buy our music, there are ten others buying every copy.
I owe it to the fans to go back out there one more time. There are thirty thousand screaming, horny women all begging for a piece of the action, and we’re going to give it to them.
“What the heck ever,” I say as I stand in formation. We’ve been touring for a year, nonstop, and this is our last show. I’m exhausted, sore, and ready for this to be all over. We’ll have a month off before we start recording our next album. We get thirty days to rest and get back to work. What’s the point of being the best if you can’t take time off to enjoy it? How about a trip to Cancun, where I can entertain some co-eds? Anything?
The lights dim and the band starts up, causing a level of screaming that I’ve never heard before. Carson looks back at me as if he’s telling me that he was right. He’s excited. I get that, but I’m also ready to be done. I’m more than ready to go home and sleep in my own bed. As soon as he turns I bend down and pop the lid off the vial, insert it into my nostril, and breathe in deeply. I pinch my nose shut, letting the coke work its way into my system, while looking around to see if anyone noticed me. The last thing I want is for someone to see me snorting coke and get all righteous on me. I’m not addicted. I can quit anytime I want. I just don’t want to. Being high and performing under the lights is an awesome trip. Why would I give that up?
Everything about my performance is robotic. I’m going through the moves, singing the lyrics, and doing what I need to do so I can get the heck out of here. If Carson, Brayden, or even Rebel wants yet another encore, they’re on their own. I’m ready to party and put this tour behind me. And with Aspen waiting in the wings, a night of getting messed up is inevitable.
Soon we’re once again standing in the center of the stage with our arms raised. We take a bow, wave, and take another bow. I’m waiting for Brayden to move toward the exit, but he’s not going. He’s standing there, waving like a damn fool.
“Yo, Bray,” I say, trying to get his attention, but he’s lost in the moment. I get it, I do. But this isn’t our first show. The high of performing has worn off; it’s time to drop the curtain and get messed up.