Every dream comes with a price…
Dallas
********
Sacrifice.
I’m familiar with it.
I've had to leave behind everyone I cared about—my sister, my
best friend, my band, and my high school sweetheart—in order to chase my dream
of making it in Nashville.
But when Robyn Breeland walks back into my life, it’s as if the
universe has decided to give me a second chance. I’m just not sure it’s one I’m
willing to take.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Robyn
********
Heartbreak.
I practically majored in it.
Dallas Lark was the first boy I ever loved and the one who'd
shattered my heart into pieces. But I’ve moved on. Working in promotions at
Midnight Bay Bourbon, I’m too busy to sit around moping over my ex. But when my
company decides to sponsor his tour, I’ll have to face him whether I’m ready to
or not. Dallas is determined to drive me to distraction, and my body begs me to
let him.
Trouble is, my heart can’t tell the difference between a second
chance and making the same mistake twice.
"You
taste like maple syrup. I’m never going to be able to look at pancakes the same
way again.” Dallas’s tongue tangles with mine and I can’t get enough.
We’re spiraling quickly out of control. I need to breathe before I pass out.
“Dallas,” I mumble against his mouth. “We shouldn’t do this. Not here.”
The driver can hear us, could glance in the rearview and get an eyeful.
“It’s a ten-minute drive to the hotel. I’m probably going to spontaneously combust before then.” I laugh against his lips. “You’re a big boy. I think you can handle it.”
I slide off his lap, leaving my legs draped over it, though, and lean my head on his shoulder.
“I can’t wait to show you just how big of a boy I am, and how well I can handle it.”
“Behave yourself,” I whisper in the darkness.
“Can’t,” is all he says, sliding his warm fingers beneath my skirt and between my thighs.
“Dallas.” I squirm as he dips beneath my panties.
“I haven’t forgotten, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “I remember exactly how tight and hot and wet you are. I remember each and every place you like me to touch you. I am a dying man waiting to hear those sweet whimpers you make when I slide inside you.”
I whimper right then, because damn. He feels so good, smells so good, tastes so good. He’s familiar but at the same time, new, differ- ent from what I remember. Rougher around the edges, broader, and behaving more boldly than he ever has with me.
The boy version from my memories was sweet, polite, and some- what distant. The grown-up version of Dallas Walker Lark is all hard edges, and intensity—sin wrapped in sugar sprinkled with lust. And I want to savor every single bite.
We’re spiraling quickly out of control. I need to breathe before I pass out.
“Dallas,” I mumble against his mouth. “We shouldn’t do this. Not here.”
The driver can hear us, could glance in the rearview and get an eyeful.
“It’s a ten-minute drive to the hotel. I’m probably going to spontaneously combust before then.” I laugh against his lips. “You’re a big boy. I think you can handle it.”
I slide off his lap, leaving my legs draped over it, though, and lean my head on his shoulder.
“I can’t wait to show you just how big of a boy I am, and how well I can handle it.”
“Behave yourself,” I whisper in the darkness.
“Can’t,” is all he says, sliding his warm fingers beneath my skirt and between my thighs.
“Dallas.” I squirm as he dips beneath my panties.
“I haven’t forgotten, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “I remember exactly how tight and hot and wet you are. I remember each and every place you like me to touch you. I am a dying man waiting to hear those sweet whimpers you make when I slide inside you.”
I whimper right then, because damn. He feels so good, smells so good, tastes so good. He’s familiar but at the same time, new, differ- ent from what I remember. Rougher around the edges, broader, and behaving more boldly than he ever has with me.
The boy version from my memories was sweet, polite, and some- what distant. The grown-up version of Dallas Walker Lark is all hard edges, and intensity—sin wrapped in sugar sprinkled with lust. And I want to savor every single bite.
One of the absolute craziest things about writing Loving
Dallas was the fact that it was like having two male leads. Dallas himself says
it best in the chapter where he explains to Robyn about "Person
Dallas" and "Performer Dallas." The recording label he is
hired onto quickly turns charming Dallas Lark from Amarillo (think: country
cutie Easton Corbin) into the sexy, sharp-tongued Dallas Walker, a drifter with
a shady past (think: country music outlaw Eric Church). I thought it might be
fun to compare the two sides of my guy side by side!
STYLE
First up, even though he's really just one man, Dallas has a
completely different style when he's on stage. If you were to see the laid back
crooner around town, he'd be clad in a well worn-in flannel button down and his
favorite pair of jeans and cowboy boots. There will likely be trucker hat
providing some shade over his baby blues. However, stop in to see a show and
you might not recognize him! On stage Dallas Walker rocks an
edgier look including Aviators, leather jackets, and biker boots. Vintage rock
band tees are a staple in the wardrobe of this version of Dallas!
SWAGGER
Dallas Lark is a caring and somewhat overprotective big
brother to his little sister, Dixie. He believes women should be treated like
the ladies that they are with the respect they deserve. He says Grace and he
says ma'am, y'all!
Dallas Walker on the other hand is a little rougher around
the edge and if you get too close you might enter a danger zone where you end
up in scandalous tabloid photos alongside country music's newest bad boy!
SWEETHEARTS
Dallas Lark will forever carry a torch for his high school
sweetheart, Robyn Breeland. She is and will always be his muse.
Dallas Walker can't be tamed or tied down and women traipse
in and out of his life quicker than Billboard chart toppers change places! He
does certainly pay a lot of attention to one special lady that has yet to be
identified by media sources. Rumor has it she's the one that got away!
Which version of Dallas would be your favorite kind of book
boyfriend? Decide for yourself on 6.16.15 when LOVING DALLAS GOES LIVE!
“I’m still me,” he’d said before falling asleep.
I’d been about to snuggle down into that blissful murkiness of sleepy time when he’d said it.
No matter how much he’d changed, Dallas was still Dallas. And maybe I had a college degree and a big-girl job, but I was still the same girl he couldn’t forgive. I’d been an idiot, pushed him away so that he wouldn’t let my mom’s illness stop him from chasing his dreams. By the time I realized how unfair it was and how much I needed him, the damage was done and Dallas Lark had moved on.
I was the one who’d needed space, but Dallas ended up being the one to walk away for good.
Forget being on the same page; Dallas and I had been reading entirely different books when it came to our relationship. In mine, there was a happily ever after that involved making a life together. He wasn’t just in my story—he was my story. In his I was merely a chapter.
I’m still me.
I wanted to smack myself. Hard. Of course he was still him. And he’d still walk away, dragging my battered heart behind him while I
watched him leave. I’d hurt him, deeply. And I’d live with that regret for the rest of my life. He’d still be the guy who chose music over me, over us. He had even more reason to now that he was on this tour.
I waited there in his arms, forcing my steel walls back up between us while he drifted into unconsciousness. Once his breathing was deep and the light rumble of a snore settled into a steady rhythm, I slipped out of his bed and gathered my things as quietly as I could. Dressing quickly, I watched him, memorizing that peaceful look on his handsome face and promising myself this was a one-time thing. I wasn’t going to obsess over it. It was a life experience, one I didn’t regret but knew I’d be crazy to repeat.
I chanced one last look as I left, before I shut the door completely. The light from the hotel hallway sliced across him and he looked so . . . alone.
I closed the door and told myself this was for the best. What would having breakfast together or sharing a cab to the airport change? Nothing, that’s what.
This time, I’d been the one to leave. For the sake of my sanity and my heart, I could never fall into bed with Dallas Lark again.
I’d been about to snuggle down into that blissful murkiness of sleepy time when he’d said it.
No matter how much he’d changed, Dallas was still Dallas. And maybe I had a college degree and a big-girl job, but I was still the same girl he couldn’t forgive. I’d been an idiot, pushed him away so that he wouldn’t let my mom’s illness stop him from chasing his dreams. By the time I realized how unfair it was and how much I needed him, the damage was done and Dallas Lark had moved on.
I was the one who’d needed space, but Dallas ended up being the one to walk away for good.
Forget being on the same page; Dallas and I had been reading entirely different books when it came to our relationship. In mine, there was a happily ever after that involved making a life together. He wasn’t just in my story—he was my story. In his I was merely a chapter.
I’m still me.
I wanted to smack myself. Hard. Of course he was still him. And he’d still walk away, dragging my battered heart behind him while I
watched him leave. I’d hurt him, deeply. And I’d live with that regret for the rest of my life. He’d still be the guy who chose music over me, over us. He had even more reason to now that he was on this tour.
I waited there in his arms, forcing my steel walls back up between us while he drifted into unconsciousness. Once his breathing was deep and the light rumble of a snore settled into a steady rhythm, I slipped out of his bed and gathered my things as quietly as I could. Dressing quickly, I watched him, memorizing that peaceful look on his handsome face and promising myself this was a one-time thing. I wasn’t going to obsess over it. It was a life experience, one I didn’t regret but knew I’d be crazy to repeat.
I chanced one last look as I left, before I shut the door completely. The light from the hotel hallway sliced across him and he looked so . . . alone.
I closed the door and told myself this was for the best. What would having breakfast together or sharing a cab to the airport change? Nothing, that’s what.
This time, I’d been the one to leave. For the sake of my sanity and my heart, I could never fall into bed with Dallas Lark again.
HarperCollins Publishers: http://www.harpercollins.com/9780062366832/loving-dallas
Caisey Quinn:
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