Friday, July 31, 2015






Title: The Truth of Tristan Lyons
Series: Legendary Rock Stars #4
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Rock Star Romance
 Release Date: July 27, 2015




Blurb


Heartbreaker.



I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.



I need a break. I want to be alone. I'm not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I'm not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she's here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren't they?



Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.



Until her.







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Excerpt



The
Truth of Tristan Lyons
excerpt © L.B. Dunbar

I
wanted to know who she was. Scratch that, I didn’t care who she was. I wanted
to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes.  They knew no shame. 
“Hey,”
I said grabbing her upper arm. “How did you get in here?”
She
seemed caught unaware of my approach and screamed loudly, pushing at my chest
hard enough, the sheer surprise forced me to let go of her.
With
her hand on her chest and her breasts rising and falling in great agitation, I
was able to see her big blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and
catch her breath.
Standing
up almost as quickly as she bent over, she spoke to me through delicious
looking pink lips.
“Who
the fuck are you?” she growled.
“Who
the fuck, are you?” I returned.
“I’m…”
“You
know what, never mind. You need to go,” I said, cutting her off and reaching
for her upper arm again. “I don’t know how you got in here, where you came
from, or how you found me, but you need to go.”
I
began to tug her toward the front entry, her feet sliding in her flip-flops
across the tile flooring. She pulled back, and the force made her skid on an
angle across the slippery surface as I dragged her. She continued to glare at
me quizzically, leaning away from me.
“I
don’t know what you are talking about?”
“Did
you follow me, is that it? See me in the airport?”
“What?”
“Okay,
I love you too, now you need to go. Okay?”
“What
are you talking about?”
“Don’t
pretend you don’t know who I am?”
“I
don’t.”

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