A Hero for Her – Line of Duty Read Online Nichole Rose

Categories Genre: Erotic, Insta-Love, Romance, Suspense, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)

The curvy songbird brings him peace. The broken Army Ranger gives her hope. But can love heal his haunted mind and save her life?

Ronan Gallagher
When I left the Army, I left behind pieces of myself.
The things I did haunt me. So do the friends I lost.
I thought I’d always be broken until I took a job protecting Winter Pyke.
This curvy songbird touches parts of me that haven’t seen the light in years.
But a crazy fan has made her life a living hell.
That’s a feeling I’m all too familiar with.
And I won’t allow her to live the way I have for so long.
I will save her…and then I’m making her mine.

Winter Pyke
All I’ve ever wanted to do is sing.
I never expected it to come at such a high price.
The world knows my name, but I’ve never felt more alone.
Especially with a madman threatening to kill me.
Enter Ronan Gallagher, the former Army Ranger my manager hires to protect me.
I feel safe in his arms, and I’m falling fast.
But Ronan is fighting a battle of his own.
I’ve never been much of a soldier, but I want to be for him.
If he can fight for me, I’ll fight for him too.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One


"Bartender, pass 'em around. Jack for me, Jim for my friends," I sing into the microphone with Gwen London, shimmying my hips and stomping my feet as the sold-out crowd sings along with us. "I'm on a mission to drown him out again. Line 'em up, we'll drink 'em on down. A shot to forget his whiskey voice. One to dry these amber eyes. Bartender, pass 'em around."

Gwen dances along beside me, glowing under the bright lights on the festival stage. She's been on fire tonight. Then again, she usually is when we're on stage together. We've been headlining the This is My Country festival together for the last three months. I thought Riley Jamison was crazy when she asked me to headline with Gwen. Success is still new to me. Gwen is a freaking legend in Nashville. She burst onto the scene four years ago and smashed every record set in front of her.

Two years ago, I was a nobody, busking on the sidewalk and playing in bars between two part-time jobs and going to school full-time. And then Bentley and Cami Reynolds walked into the bar where I was playing. Within a week, I'd been signed with Riley Jamison's management company—Saunders Management. My life has been a whirlwind ever since.

It's impossible to feel like an imposter next to Gwen though. She's been amazing to me. If the whole world was whispering my name before the festival, they're shouting it now. I have Gwen to thank for that. She makes me look like a rockstar every night.

I launch into the last verse of the song, belting it out like I really know what heartbreak feels like. Unless losing the last piece of chocolate cake counts, I don't. But I've gotten good at faking it the last two years. I sing about love and lost love like I've been through both a time or two. But the only thing I truly understand is yearning, the desperate ache to belong…somewhere. To belong to someone.

I've been on my own for most of my life. Don't get me wrong. I have parents. They just cared more about appearances than they did about me. When I decided to pursue music, they couldn't get rid of me fast enough. Good girls don't run off to become big stars. If I'm lucky, I hear from them every few months. Usually when they've seen me on the front of some gossip magazine and want to remind me that they're disappointed in me, my choices, blah, blah, blah. They never ask if what they read is true. I don't think they want to know that it isn't. The truth wouldn't suit their agenda and preconceived notions.

I belt out the last line of the verse and then launch into the final chorus with Gwen. She dances over to me and we sing into the same microphone, hamming it up for the crowd. They cheer and stomp, dancing along to the upbeat breakup anthem.

Sweat drips from my blonde hair, plastering it to my head. It's hot as Hades under the stage lights with so many people crammed into one place. Not even the breeze blowing through the outdoor arena does much to cool it down any. I sing the last notes, fanning my face.

Yeesh. Maybe I need to start training for marathons before I do tours.

"And keep them coming!" Gwen shouts, raising one hand in the air, as the band plays the outro and I reach for a bottle of water.

The crowd roars their agreement, making me smile.

"Y'all give it up for my girl, Winter," she says. "She may be five foot nothing, but the girl can sing her butt off, can't she?"

I blush when the crowd roars in response.

"These heels may look adorable, but they were not made for dancing," she says, kicking the red heels off. "My feet are killing me."

"I told you to wear boots!" her husband, Cyrus, shouts from the side of the stage, earning laughter and cheers from everyone close enough to hear him.

"As if I'm taking fashion advice from a man who wears exactly two colors," she sasses, smirking at him, which makes the crowd laugh again. "But you do make black look good."

Cyrus shakes his head at her.

I love them together. He usually has their twins, but since we're playing so close to home tonight, he left the kids with his sister so he could be here for her without having to wrangle two thee-year-olds. It's obvious how much he adores her. The way he looks at her makes me ache.

Everyone I know is happily in love—Olivia and Kasen, Addison and Clayton, Gwen, Cami, Riley and Cash. I'm the odd curvy girl out. I don't know why that's bugging me so much lately. I just feel…alone.

Even in a crowd of people, I'm an island. Everyone knows my name, but no one knows me. They know my music or who I'm wearing or where I've eaten. They want photos or autographs. They want to be seen with me. But very few want to know me. Those who say they do tend not to be the most stable of people. They send me creepy, inappropriate messages. It's exhausting, honestly.