BWWM Dark Rock Star Romance Books | Teasing The Tyrant {Nashville's Rebel Blood Rock Stars #2}
What comes next in the Rebel Blood series? Mickey Ford’s story in Teasing The Tyrant will sweep you off your feet just as much as Angie and Sebastian’s. I don’t want to give too much away, but you’ll love this romantic tale with its dark twists and turns as well as the guaranteed happily ever after ending.
If you enjoy dark brooding rock star alphas, pregnancy romance, strong black women and reading about the beautiful city of Nashville, you’ll love Mickey’s story…
I don’t recommend reading this book before Pretty Little Monster. If you haven’t seen Book #1 in the series yet, no fear.
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Check your rhinestone fishnet tights at the door for this madly erotic black woman white man rock star bad boy romance story. If you enjoy muscular alphas, dark enemies-to-lovers romance and steamy romantic stories with African American women lead characters, dive into Book #2… the perfect addition to the addictive series.
Romance Novel Excerpts | Teasing The Tyrant
I Am The Biggest Loser You Will Ever MeetRAIN WILSON
The last thing I want to do on Saturday night is hide out in my apartment from my cousin Meg and her best friend, Angie. Alone. Whatever, I’m always alone.
Why am I hiding out? Right. It’s mostly because Angie’s also my boss and I just betrayed her by selling secrets about her famous baby daddy to a celebrity gossip blog.
I betrayed my cousin too.
My boss is pretty cool, but she’s scary as hell and her man is ten times scarier. He’s in the band Rebel Blood — super popular, super country rock stars who inspire middle America to wave their stupid confederate flags and feel all “patriotic”. Yuck. They don’t really talk about that stuff in their music but their fans suck. A lot.
Everyone in the country loves Rebel Blood because they’re all young, extremely hot, and really country for rock stars. They’re all walking 70s revivals in the flesh. Tall. Handsome. American. They’re all old-school sexy, which works for some people I guess.
These guys are too hot for me. I would never date a guy that’s too hot. It’s just like… yuck. I’m simple. I’m basic. Give me a bald guy with a beer gut any day. Ugh. Who am I kidding.
Keith has a beer gut — and he’s freaking out about balding. He has the weirdest haircut too, like he’s trying to hide it. I don’t know how to break it to my boyfriend that everyone knows he’s balding and that ratty little ponytail isn’t making a difference.
I could never be with a guy in a band like Rebel Blood… Guys in my lane are guys like Keith. I prefer to be realistic, unlike their stupid little fans who write fan fiction about banging Seb Jefferson. I read a crazy fan fiction once where some girl imagined having all three guys at once.
Yikes. The fan fiction pretty much stopped when Seb Jefferson got engaged to my boss. The tabloids are still going bananas over the ‘mystery girl’. Is she a model? Is she a celebrity? Everyone’s dying to know and the truth is ten times crazier than the rumors.1
I’m not jealous or anything, but I want to know Angie’s secret for snagging a tall, rich and sexy man. Famous people are obviously all completely fucked up, but still…
Angie’s the only other woman I know as dark-skinned as I am. Well, Angie is darker than me, but still. She has the world’s most desirable fiancé. My mom always told me that I was too dark to find a good man. Angie proved her wrong. Meg also thinks my mom’s wrong, but Meg… she just doesn’t get it.
My cousin thinks the world just opens up for me and I can just get a man better than Keith, but she doesn’t understand.
When I was twelve, I told my mom I had a crush on a white boy in my class and she just laughed at me. She said I needed to just be grateful that any man would put up with my black ass, especially the way I spend time in the sun.
I tore up the drawing I was going to give to him and I stopped having crushes on white boys. Forever.
Sigh. My mom might be dumb as hell, but she’s probably right. Plus, Keith’s beer gut is sexy. In it’s own way. At least it covers up the “Put Mouth Here” tattoo above his crotch.
Meg just thinks I’m a loser who needs to “stay off the internet” and “put myself out there more”. She’s not even wrong.
I am a loser. But this job at Angie’s bar isn’t making me any less of a loser. My coworker Elijah hates my guts and I don’t ever know what to say when people at work make conversation. They all went to Vanderbilt or University of Tennessee and they talk about college stuff.
I only pretend to know what they’re talking about when they say ‘hegemony’ or ‘equity’ or any of those words. I don’t want to get caught being ‘problematic’.
I only learned about that stuff on social media and honestly? I don’t really get it. Say the wrong thing and they’ll call me toxic. I’ll never forget what happened to Sara after her first day at the bar…
She was immediately “canceled” and had to quit because she said that the homeless man outside made her uncomfortable. Elijah called her classist. Marissa said her privilege was showing. And I kept quiet to stay out of trouble because that same homeless guy pinched my ass one day after the lunch shift.
I learned to keep my mouth shut at work when I didn’t know what was happening. But then everyone hates me for being quiet. Black girls aren’t meant to be quiet, so they get confused that I’m not sassy or entertaining enough, like it’s my job to entertain people because I’m black.
Work sucks. But whatever. My new apartment is at least a great place to hide out. Maybe if I went to college, I’d have friends. Elijah has tons of friends from Vanderbilt, even if he’s annoying about going there and always brings up his stupid student loans.
I’ll never go to college. I’m too poor to afford it and too dumb to get a scholarship. My mom laughed when I asked for help getting financial aid.
Keith would never let me go to college anyway. He says that college girls get bad ideas. Keith isn’t the best boyfriend, but he always comes back to me. That’s loyalty. Even after cheating, going back to his baby mama, and all that stuff… he just comes back. Always.
I’m not like Meg. I’m not smart enough to claw my way out of the hood. I can’t even find an apartment that doesn’t have roaches. I’ve just learned to live with them. I caught myself talking to a roach in the shower once about 90 Day Fiancé. I think that was rock bottom. Who am I kidding? My whole life is rock bottom.
The only thing that will get me out of my dismal life is the story I just sold to Celebz Leaked — the gossip blog that nearly ruined my boss’s life.
The person behind Celebz Leaked only goes by a screen name.
The Tyrant
The Tyrant doesn’t want to let me out of my contract. The Tyrant knows because of Meg, I can get in anywhere in Nashville’s social scene, especially with Meg’s new contacts to Rebel Blood.
The Tyrant knows my phone passcode, my social security number and where I went to high school. The Tyrant knows that I have access to important people because of my cousin — that makes me important. Useful.
I was losing my usefulness up until 2 years ago. Meg moving back to Nashville was the best thing to happen to me because damn, my cousin is connected.
I can’t tell anyone who The Tyrant is or I will die.
I don’t know who scares me more: Keith or The Tyrant. I want to escape both of them forever, but I’m totally trapped. The worst part is knowing that I can’t hide in this apartment forever or even for long.
I ought to tell someone that I know who it is now. I know The Tyrant’s true identity. If I even think the name to anyone else, The Tyrant will know I told and then The Tyrant will slit my throat. This is not some Gen Z joke, okay. The Tyrant will literally slit my throat.
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Don’t forget no one will actually care that you’re dead, Rain.
Sorry, Meg, but I choose my life over saving Mickey Ford’s any day. He’s a scumbag, just like Sebastian Jefferson and the rest of Rebel Blood.
They’re gross white, redneck-American celebrities who profit off our outrage by doing offensive things on purpose. I hate them more than anything. Their records are so stupid.
Love songs are just what guys like Keith use to trap you.
I don’t even care about getting my stupid Limited Edition Rebel Blood vinyl records back from Keith. I only started collecting them because Mickey Ford’s ex used to post them all to her social media. I don’t even like Rebel Blood, but I followed her and all the band members in case there was any good tea.
Keith sends me another text. Ugh. He is so thirsty. My mama told me that a 34 year old man would be good for me and that Keith would mature soon but he hasn’t matured at all. I’m 18, he’s 36, and I’m ten times more grown than he is.
If I even talk to Keith, he’ll find some way to get back together with me… or worse… move into my damn apartment again.
Meg tried to warn me about these “hobo-sexuals” but I thought she was a bitter thirty-something woman jealous of my youth. She never liked the fact that Keith was so much older but I shouldn’t have judged her.
Sorry, girl! In my defense, Meg is bitter. At least she was, until she left the life of single ladies for the freaky-dick ex-con she’s pretending not to be in love with. She’s lucky. I tried to get a boyfriend, but all I got was a Keith…
There’s a loud thud at my door and I realize that I’ve failed at hiding. I’m not even surprised because I fail at literally everything. I don’t want to open the door. My new place is only a studio (and it has even bigger roaches) but it’s mine, and I don’t want to let anyone in. I pull the blanket over my head and tell myself that the brushing on the back of my neck is my hair and not another cockroach.
When I hear the voice on the other side of the door, I know there’s no way I can hide forever. It’s The Tyrant. I climb out of bed and throw on a hoodie as The Tyrant pounds again.
“I know you’re in there…”
Why is no one else scared of looking into The Tyrant’s eyes? They eyes always scare me. I never liked eyes that weren’t brown. They always made me uncomfortable. I don’t know how Angie does it with Seb.
I’d freeze right up with these redneck demon eyes staring at me. I’ve just never seen it for these white boys.
I throw the door open with a scowl. I know The Tyrant has absolute power over me, but I have to act tough.
“What do you want?” I snap, rolling my head as much as possible.
There’s no point in me asking how The Tyrant even found me. It’s what The Tyrant does.
“You were right. He’s in Ithaca. I have our team on it and honestly, Rain. It’s going to be huge.”
“What do you mean it’s going to be huge?”
“You got his location and we have a story and will prove once and for all that Mickey Ford’s a fucking fairy. Let’s see how his fans like him once they know the truth.”
I roll my eyes as dramatically as I can afford to without pissing The Tyrant off. The Tyrant’s use of the slur disgusts me almost as much as the passion behind it.
“It’s 2021. No one cares if people are gay anymore.”
The smug words fall out of The Tyrant’s mouth next, “They might care if he’s been lying about having AIDS.”
“He doesn’t have AIDS,” I say, as if The Tyrant gives a damn about the truth.
“All we need is an element of truth. And anyway, Mickey Ford can make this problem go away.”
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