Winning Nia: A Second Chance Rock Star Romance (EBook)

✓ A secretly soft, tattooed British rock star
✓ A stubborn heroine refusing to be won a second time
✓ A surprise second chance with a tempting offer she can’t refuse
✓ Sparks flying despite a broken heart ten years past
✓ And two awesome, Ride-or-Die BFFs

CHAPTER ONE
“Oh, that’s a great idea! Block half the road, why don’t you!” I shouted at the taxi who had stopped in front of me without warning. His passengers merrily climbed out of the car, not a care in the damn world for how slowly they moved. “It’s not like the rest of us have places to be.”
Turning on my indicator, I dragged in a deep breath and tried to relax. The clock said I had thirty minutes, but thirty minutes in Cardiff city centre rush hour traffic meant very little. It’s fine. The studio was ten minutes away in normal traffic. I moved into the other lane and raced away from the asshole taxi driver, willing myself to leave the stress in the middle of the road with him.
I’d been looking forward to this audition for a month. At this point, I didn’t want it, I needed it. Wedding photography was a great filler, and I had my regular gig nights at two local music venues, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t quit finance and piss my father off just to scrape by each month.
In the last few years, I’d held tight to my camera, even as my father demanded I follow the plan and grow up. When I finished uni, I retired my camera skills to part time to appease him. I followed his plan and hated every single moment of it. Without the filter of a lens, the world seemed so stark. I didn’t want to live like that, trapped in shades of grey, bored out of my mind, waiting for death.
Six months ago, I’d decided enough was enough. I couldn’t live with a part of me missing any longer.
I parked outside the studio and stared up at the building with a furrowed brow. This couldn’t be it. On the outside, it looked like any ordinary industrial estate, complete with a metal garage door and a red steel door. Only the sign gave away the fact a music studio lay beyond the brick facade.
I rechecked my equipment before approaching the building. Partly because I was paranoid something would go wrong, but it also gave me something to focus on. Auditions always made me nervous — not because I didn’t think I was good at my job, but mistakes happened.
This particular audition was worse. It meant too much. My hands shook as I let myself in, and I had to give myself a pretty stern talking to. The instructions said I was meant to meet the band’s manager in the reception area, but I didn’t even know his name. It was all so cloak and dagger and I couldn’t understand why.
I stopped dead in my tracks in the lobby. The interior did not match the industrial estate exterior. Huge metal doors didn’t scream chic modern with marble floors, mood lighting and a polished, smiling receptionist. No way was I still in the industrial estate.
“Prynhawn da. How can I help you?” The pretty receptionist asked from behind her massive glass welcome desk.
Fixing a confident smile on my face and gripping my equipment bag tight enough to hopefully hide the tremor, I approached her desk. “I’m here for the band photography audition.”
She turned to her computer and started tapping at her keyboard. “Nia Thomas?”
I nodded, struggling to keep my eyes on her. There was a wall of framed records behind her. Every major Welsh band had a place up there. I itched to study them closer.
Was Rhiannon up there?
I squashed the thought.
“You can take a seat in the waiting area, while I call to see if they’re ready for you.” She pointed to a corner with a white leather sofa and a coffee table to the right of the desk.
I did as I was told, picking up a music magazine as I went. Mindless reading, exactly what I needed to forget how important the next hour would be for my career.
When I finally bit the bullet at the start of the year, I’d been full of dreams and optimism. Despite my years of plugging away in the music scene in my free time, I naively thought landing contracts with music mags would be easy.
Now, my savings were dwindling, and if I didn’t make some kind of progress soon, I’d not only be faced with asking my father for help, but I’d lose a part of myself.
I’d barely flipped through half the magazine when someone cleared their throat. A woman smiled down at me. Her red hair flowed over her shoulders in waves that I would have been envious of, if I could actually stand having long hair. Mine was cut into a short blonde bob. My hairdresser almost cried every time I returned for a trim because it kept getting shorter.
“Nia?” she asked. Kindness radiated from her, putting me at ease without effort. “Hey, I’m Alys. If you follow me, we can get you set up.” She gestured to the hallway leading off reception.
I blew out a breath as I stood. Time to win the dream job. Do not fuck this up, Thomas.
Multiple doors lead off the hallway. All of them had red light boxes above the doors indicating there were at least six studios in this building. Impressive. Only two of them were currently active.
“You can set up now. The guys will be here soon,” Alys said as I followed her into a room.
The recording studio stretched further back than I’d expected. In the control room, a couple of black sofas were lined up against the walls while a sound desk and wall of glass divided the room from the wood panelled studio. Bright colourful rugs broke up the wooden floor and musical instruments were lined up around the edges. You could fit an orchestra in the room and still have room to dance around.
I stopped ogling the space and turned back to Alys. “I was led to believe their manager was a guy?”
Alys nodded. “Oh he is, but Matt’s been a little distracted lately. He tapped me in for meet-and-greets while I’m free.” Alys leaned against the desk, studying me like she might crack all my secrets without a word. “Sorry he didn’t update you.”
“It’s fine. Have you been with the band long?” I asked, distracted but curious. Setting my bag down, I started setting up, laying out my equipment on a free stretch of counter to the side of the sound desk.
“Not that long,” Alys said. I glanced up at the odd note in her voice. She grinned. “It’s complicated.”
My brows rose. “You’re seeing one of them?”
She chuckled as I continued laying out my prime lenses. You never know when you need to switch things up for a narrower 50mm shot.
“Guilty as charged. I spent a couple of months as Matt’s assistant, too. Hence complicated.”
“You don’t work for them anymore?”
“Technically, no. My TV career calls too loudly.” She pulled a face. “Plus, it’s a tad weird to be working for your boyfriend.”
Nodding, I plucked up my camera body and attached my 35mm. “Knowing I earned every opportunity I receive is important to me, too. I get it.” With the strap safely secured around my neck, I held it up to Alys. “Do you mind if I snap some test shots while we wait?”
“Of me?” She blushed when I confirmed but agreed all the same. “Go ahead.”
I snapped some test images to check the light levels. Fiddling with the settings to adjust them to the darkened space, I frowned at the light sources. I could have done with some extra lighting, but every single light was switched on, and all of them were ambient, chill-out lighting. Was this meant to be inspiring?
I lined the shot up, focusing on Alys while blowing out the background. She’d positioned herself perfectly next to one of the spotlights. It illuminated her, while everything else faded to black with subtle hints of gold and lifted the whole image to another level. We chatted about inconsequential things like the fact the studio was surprisingly well hidden as I moved around the room.
Time ticked by unnoticed. I captured her smile and the way it lit her blue eyes. She had a wonderfully expressive face, and I couldn’t help but sink into the process, shaking off my nerves and just enjoying it.
“Red, looking for a new career already?” Someone asked behind me, amusement dripping from their tone.
I lowered my camera and turned to the source of the voice. Craning my neck, I took him in. The guy was over six foot, built, with shoulder length blond hair. Sharp blue eyes laughed at me, and I frowned at the newcomer. Something about those eyes tickled my memories.
And then Dan walked into the room.
My heart hit the floor along with my stomach. I should have known somehow that I was auditioning for Rhiannon.
How many up-and-coming bands did Wales have?
I should have fucking known. It would have gutted me, but I wouldn’t have hung my hopes on this job. I wouldn’t have sent my portfolio in the first place.
“Dammit, Nia,” Dan muttered. His green eyes creased with amusement. “I was all prepared to rub it in. Thanks for ruining my fun.” His lips pursed with an exaggerated pout, drawing a chuckle from my tight throat. He still towered over me, and his auburn hair hadn’t lost any of its shine. The beard was new.
“You’re still shit at betting I take it?” I asked, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. Somehow I managed to keep my face and voice deadpan despite the unpleasant surprise slapping me in the face.
I peeked at the blond again as the pieces clicked into place. Ryan. He pulled Alys into his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. I’d known of Ryan in school, but it was secondary school and everyone knew of everyone in our small Valley’s town.
“Uhm Dan,” I cleared my throat while I searched desperately for the badass who could handle this situation. “He’s not — James isn’t…”
Dan pressed his lips together, his uncertainty clear for me to read. The man’s eyes had always been too expressive.
Backing up a step towards the door, I said, “I think I —”
“Nia!” A familiar lilting voice interrupted me.
I stiffened. My heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and dread. I couldn’t explain the excitement; it shouldn’t have been a factor.
Yes, the reason I would have turned this job down was a man. I never thought I’d be one of those women who avoided her exes with passion, but it had merit. No stress, no reminders of the way he threw you away without a second thought, or how he then strung you along on a sham of a long-distance relationship for a year before ghosting.
Irritation bit through me, and I gritted my teeth against it. I needed to be polite for an hour, and then I never had to see him again. Except you want the job…
Shit.
I hadn’t seen James in years, but I’d done enough internet stalking in that time. I knew what waited for me if I turned around. He’d been a lanky, clean-skinned boy the last time we’d seen each other. Now he was ripped, with black ink flowing down his left arm and his short dark blond hair neatly swept back. He’d well and truly changed.
Unlike me. Aside from quitting my safe job for freelance life, I had done nothing daring. My hair was still the same shoulder-length, light blonde. I’d toyed with dying it brown, but Sophie had talked me out of that disaster waiting to happen. I couldn’t imagine my icy-blue eyes paired with any other colour. My dress sense hadn’t even changed — sometimes I’d throw in a pop of colour here and there, but I was happy with my neutrals. They matched best with my trusty ankle boots.
One minute, we’d had a standing phone date, every night at nine on the dot, and he spent his days distracting me with an endless stream of texts. The next, he vanished. At first, I’d assumed balancing university work and the band was too much for him. So I waited, expecting him to surface eventually. That didn’t happen.
Instead, when he came home for Christmas, he meticulously avoided me. I’d go in the front door of his family home with his sister—my best friend, Sophie—and he’d slip out the back with some made-up story or another. By then, I’d assumed he’d changed his mind about making things work between us. Neither of us had needed to tell his family we’d broken up. The tense atmosphere spoke volumes. I used to love going to their house for Christmas; it was fun and festive there, unlike mine.
I never went back after that. I never wanted to see the pity on his mother's face again. Instead, the girls and I had met anywhere but our houses. We continued the tradition to this day.
Turning around might have been the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. Forget fighting fourteen-year-olds for front row shots at a gig. Gathering the courage to face James Tyler was worse. I forced myself to do it.
Studying his newly filled out, muscular frame as he grinned at me from the doorway, those resentments reared their head. They put a bitter tang in my mouth. So maybe I’d been lying to myself the last few years; I wasn’t over it. And I was definitely not ready to deal with him and the soft, appraising gleam in his gaze.
My eyes lingered for far too long, memorising the new shape of the only man who had ever had a grip on my heart.
“It is you! I was hoping I’d run into you at some point.” James stopped in front of me. His eyes dipped in a lazy perusal of my very basic jeans and Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. My body heated with the ghost of passion past.
I willed the awareness away. “Matt didn’t give you a list of names for these auditions?”
James scratched the side of his neck, a guilty glint shining in his eyes. “Okay, you caught me.”
With the full force of his mischievous eyes on me, I was almost transported back to easier times. Before The Brightside had taken off and taken his cousin with them, leaving him behind, before he’d followed Dan to Glasgow because why not, before he’d crushed me with his silence.
Even after all these years, he had a devastating effect on my body. There was a light in his brown eyes that scared me. Okay, scared wasn’t the right word, more like unnerved. He was looking at me the way he used to look at his guitar: with endless hope.
“When the label asked if we knew any local photographers, we couldn’t not give them your name.” He glanced at Ryan. “Right, guys?”
They all nodded dutifully while their drummer, Jared, wandered into the room with another guy. This one, I definitely didn’t recognise. He tipped his chin to the guys and went straight to the sound desk.
“Did it blow up in your face yet?” Jared asked, pushing past James and heading for the sofa at the back of the room. He dropped onto it, phone in hand and a scowl on his face.
James eyed me. “Not yet.” His focus fell to my T-shirt again. “Does the t-shirt win her any points, Ry?”
Everyone focused on me and I glanced down at the dancing penguin plastered across my chest. “Why? Are you a big Fleetwood Mac fan?”
“Where do you think we got our name?” James asked.
I searched my memory for the information and came up blank. “The Welsh Goddess?”
“Inadvertently,” Dan said as Ryan muttered, “Not quite.”
“Ryan had a thing for Stevie Nicks’s voice,” James explained. “The song Rhiannon helped him find his way back to music.”
Understanding widened my eyes. “So you’re also a fan of Fleetwood Mac.”
Ryan nodded. “Just a little.”
“Shall we start with you in the booth, Ryan?” The sound engineer asked, mercifully diverting everyone’s attention from me. “We still need to lay down the vocals before we can move on.”
Ryan agreed before his eyes fell on Dan. “You’re in charge. Get Nia started.”
James spluttered. “Why can’t I get Nia started?”
Ryan cut him a hard look that cowed James into silence. He walked into the recording room and stepped into a smaller booth which butted up onto the glass of the control room.
I gripped my camera as I turned to Dan. “How do you want to play this?”
“You still want to audition?” James asked, surprise dripping from his tone.
“I’m here, so why not?” At least, right now I still wanted it. Who knew how I’d feel once the shock had worn off and I had time to weigh up the cons.
Dan collapsed onto a sofa, sprawling out on the cushion. “Just start taking photos. I think Ryan wants to review them all afterwards and pick the best ones to send to the label.”
“Jesus, Dan, way to make her comfortable.”
Dan’s brows rose but he didn’t comment. James turned back to me with a harried look in his eyes. If it wasn’t for the uncomfortable situation and the fact it was him, I might have laughed.
“Do you know everyone?” James gestured around the room, not waiting for me to respond. “You already know Dan, of course.” He rolled his eyes at the bassist. “Jared.” He pointed at the thin drummer, who was steadfastly ignoring everyone around him and typing furiously at his phone.
“Stop bugging her! She is not going to answer you,” Alys muttered. Jared’s eyes flicked up at her, but his attention went back to his phone. She shook her head and turned her back to him.
“The redhead giving Jared a run for his money is Alys, the reason we’re all here.”
“We’ve already met, James. I let her in, remember?” Alys smirked at James before taking a seat on a swivel chair. She spun to face the clear glass dividing us from Ryan. He wore headphones and was singing into the microphone. The sound played low over the suite’s speakers but it couldn’t dull the effect of Ryan’s voice. It turned gravely as he worked through an emotional verse, scraping my nerve endings and giving me chills.
“Rob, here, is the magician who makes us sound incredible.” The sound engineer, who’d entered with Jared, glanced away from a desk of complicated dials and nodded at me with a welcoming smile.
“And this completes our tour.” James opened his arms.
I unclipped my bag. “Shall I get started?”
James frowned. “You want to work already?”
“Isn’t that why I’m here?”
I ignored his puppy dog eyes and picked up my camera, focusing on switching out the lenses.
His gaze burned against my skin as he tracked me around the room. It had been a long time since I’d been caught in the grips of his intense attention. If I’d known I would run into him, I might have been prepared. One could dream, at least.
Instead of giving him attention, I got to work. Alys stared at Ryan behind the glass with a singular focus, the love in her eyes clear to see, and I immortalised it in one shot. Ryan’s eyes were open now and fixed on Alys. With the background fading out, it almost looked like they were two lovers separated in the dark.
If his voice hadn’t moved me, the expression of pain on his face would have. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sang about losing the love of his life. Still, he didn’t miss a single note. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful.
The song ended, and Ryan wiped his eyes. The sound engineer pressed one of many buttons and leaned into a microphone.
“That sounded great, Ryan. I think we can wrap this one up,” Rob said, his cheerful voice lifting the sombre air which had quickly invaded the room.
Ryan nodded and removed the headphones. As he pushed open the door connecting the studio to the suite, Alys sprung out of her chair, threw her arms around his neck, and clung to him. They whispered to each other, their heads pressed close together and their faces wet. I couldn’t resist snapping one last picture before I turned my back to give them privacy.
James watched me with an intense stare. The moisture in his eyes gave me pause. Had he put us in their place in his head? The song certainly had some minor correlations, but it didn’t sound like Ryan had lost Alys on purpose.
James cleared his throat and smiled over my shoulder. A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and I turned to face the smiling frontman, the nervous energy reigniting in my gut.
“Can I see what you’ve shot so far?” Ryan asked, his eyes on my camera.
The photos felt like an invasion of their privacy. I pulled up the last shot of them. After wrapping the strap around my wrist, I handed the camera to Ryan. His eyebrows rose but he didn’t comment.
I chewed my lips as he and Alys flicked through the pictures. I watched their expressions like a hawk. What I was searching for, I have no clue.
“These are incredible,” Alys whispered, her wide-eyed gaze latching on to mine. “I can’t believe we look like this. I mean, I know we do, but the emotion and — I have no words.” She threw her arms around me in a startling hug.
“Can you send me these?” Ryan asked, his voice soft.
I nodded while I awkwardly patted Alys’s back. Surely she had to let go soon?
James must have sensed my unease, because before I knew it, his hand was burrowing between our bodies and pulling me out of Alys’s grip.
“Alright, Al, let’s not asphyxiate her before she’s finished her audition or taken me back,” James said, his tone teasing. His hand spread against my stomach, pulling me back against his front. I frowned at his words, even as a shiver raced through me at the intimate press of him against me. My body almost sighed, tricked with the memories of happier times. His other arm wrapped around my waist, and he rested his chin on my head, exactly like he used to when we were between classes in school. My breath hitched at the reminder.
I had no clue what to do about it, and it showed, apparently. Ryan chuckled at my pained expression, and Alys gifted me a sympathetic smile, but neither did anything to help.
My brain took its sweet time coming online. Anger rippled through me, but it had nowhere to go.
That’s a lie.
I could have directed it all at the culprit. He deserved it, after all. Yet, something stopped me. It couldn’t have been the job. I was too logical to believe James and I could work comfortably side by side. Hell, I flat out didn’t want that. No, my hesitation had nothing to do with the job, and that was concerning. It meant I actually cared about James’s feelings.
“I can’t work with you wrapped around me, James,” I muttered, the smallest bite of anger coiling around the words.
“I’m pretty sure you’re finished, anyway. Right, Ry?”
Ryan nodded, but the certainty didn’t reach his eyes. “These are brilliant,” Ryan said, a note of understanding in his voice. “But they might not be enough for the label. We should run a couple of tracks and give Nia something to photograph, to be extra sure.”
James slowly released me. His hands dragged across my stomach, retreating, but eliciting another shiver. I needed to get control of my damn body before he developed more ideas. He only stepped away from me once the rest of the guys had set themselves up in the studio.
“Your guitar isn’t going to plug itself in, James,” Dan shouted from the other room, his amusement ringing loud and clear across the space.
Grumbling to himself, he left me and walked into the studio to a round of jeering laughter. Oh yeah, avoiding that pesky box of feelings was going to be so easy. Not.
“If he ever gets to be too much for you, let me know,” Alys said, squeezing my shoulder and dragging my attention from James. There was a serious quality to her voice I hadn’t noticed before. “They can get uber focused. It works for some people.” She grimaced, shaking her head. “It worked for Ryan. I think they forget some women don’t like being chased.”
My eyes returned to the studio and the waiting band. James watched me like a starving man would look at a piece of bread and I had to wonder if it would ever go away.
Did I want it to go away?
Yes, of course I did. It was too complicated to share this city otherwise. And in any case, he hadn’t stuck around before, there was no reason he would now…. All he’d talked about when we were growing up was getting out of our small Valleys town.
I could resist James Tyler.
For half an hour, the band played, racing through their top hits. Thankfully, the lighting in the recording space was much brighter than the control room, and I didn’t have to worry about making do.
For most of it, I ignored James. Or I tried to. It felt like he went out of his way to pull focus from everyone else, and I couldn’t pinpoint how he was doing it. Whenever I’d give him my attention, he was playing his guitar, nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, I could almost guarantee that fifty percent of the photos I snapped featured him heavily.
I had to force my attention back to a smirking Ryan or Dan far too many times to count, but they all kept their lips sealed, which I was grateful for. More for my pride than a need to hide it from James. He knew he was winning. The confident grin lighting up his face said it all.
Once I’d captured enough wide angles of the band, I switched back to the 50mm and focused on them as individuals. It went smoothly until I moved back to James. Something about the closer view made every glint in his eyes and every lift of his lips more intimate. Whether he tugged his lower lip between his lips and fixed me with that smouldering look or let his eyes fall shut, enjoying the music with a small smile curling his lips, it had a devastating effect on my ability to concentrate.
When he opened his eyes, the heat there caught my breath and froze me to the spot. For a couple of moments, we were still lovers, still each other’s confidante. Desire clenched deep inside me, the ache a sharp reminder of what used to be. It also served to break the spell James cast over me with his gorgeous hazel eyes.
By the time we wrapped it up, I was ridiculously exhausted.
“I think that went pretty well,” Ryan said, stepping away from the mic with a reassuring smile. “How do you feel about it?”
I pressed the button to display the shots, recalling an image of Jared in full swing and studied it. I’d caught some light rebounding from the cymbals. It highlighted a melancholic light in his eyes I’d missed back in the control room.
I shrugged. “Pretty good.”
And it was true. I’d been working with bands since I was old enough to enter a venue. I knew my way around a stage. My abilities weren’t in question. But that didn’t mean I could convince a record label to pay me. Didn’t mean I wanted to convince them, either.
Ryan held out his hand for the camera, and I surrendered it with far less hesitation this time. James and Dan gathered to study the shots over his shoulder. Jared hadn’t moved from his kit. He sat typing furiously at his screen again.
Ryan took in the first shot, and his eyes widened. He glanced towards Jared with pinched lips. Something was clearly up with their drummer, but I shrugged it off. I wanted a job, not drama.
“I can see why you’re confident.” Ryan chuckled a few moments later. I didn’t miss the sagging of James’s shoulders. “Email me with your best picks, and I’ll get them sent over. I don’t think we’ll have to do any persuading.” He handed the camera back with a smile.
Ryan left us, muttering about needing food. There was a chorus of positive replies, but I was too distracted by the six-foot one guitarist tackling me in a bear hug. My feet left the ground as he spun me around.
“I knew you’d ace it, Shutterbug.”
That one word struck a match inside me and my body went up in flames. Not the good kind. Memories rattled at their chains.
I hadn’t heard the nickname since he’d cut me out of his life. My dad hated it. It still sent a thrill through me, even if it was accompanied by choking dread now. The last time he’d said it, he vanished the next day.
I pressed my face into his shoulder, his fresh linen scent tickling my nose. For a moment, I relished it and breathed him in. When my feet met the floor once again, he gripped my hand and tugged me towards the studio door, a determined light in his eyes. “C’mon, we need to celebrate.”
“I’m sorry, I have plans.” I shook him off and took a guarded step back.
“Okay, what are you doing tomorrow?” Eagerness vibrated from him, and at any other time in my life, I might have struggled to say no. Once upon a time, I craved his attention. Now that I had it, my feet itched to run.
“Busy, sorry.”
I started packing up my gear, resolutely focused on placing each item safely back into my bag. My skin wasn’t flushed at the feel of James’s gaze on me. He mercifully stayed silent while I finished packing. When I shouldered my bag and said my goodbyes, I didn’t look at him.
Was it cowardly to run? Maybe. Did I care? Hell no.

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