Rising Stars Duet Book 1
Blurb
This isn’t a love story.
This is a heart torn in two.
Lee
It’s my senior year at a new school, and I’m done with drama.
No distractions. No complications. Just me and the dream I’m clinging to—becoming a drummer in a rock band.
Then he walks back into my life—the broody bad boy—the one who broke my heart before he even knew he had it.
And Logan, the golden boy who sees through the cracks in the walls I’ve built, won’t stop looking at me like I’m worth saving.
I swore I wouldn’t let anyone in.
But now I’m falling for two guys who could either put me back together . . .
Or break me all over again.
Zach
Eight years. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw her.
But one look at Lee, and every feeling comes roaring back.
Only now we’ve got a band, a future we’ve both dreamed of—and maybe a chance at something real.
But just when it feels like everything is finally falling into place, I can feel her slipping through my fingers.
She says she loves me.
So why does it feel like I’m losing her all over again?
Logan
Lee is an enigma—drawing me in like no one ever has.
The more I get to know her, the more I see the cracks beneath her fire.
I should walk away. She’s with someone else.
But I can’t. Because every second with her feels like fate . . .
And I’m starting to believe the one thing she can’t see:
She was never his to lose.
She’s mine to fight for.
Three hearts. One choice. Will falling in love cost them everything?
Reckless Souls is a spicy, emotional love triangle filled with longing, heartbreak, and first love. Told in multiple POVs, it’s book one in the Rising Stars Duet and ends on a cliffhanger. Book two, Fearless Hearts, delivers the explosive conclusion and the HEA.
Why readers are obsessed
- Because they get the teen angst, small-town drama, and heart-wrenching first love they craved in One Tree Hill, Dawson’s Creek, and Friday Night Lights—only hotter.
- Because the book delivers the raw emotional intensity fans love from Jay McLean, Ginger Scott, and L.A. Cotton—messy love, flawed characters, and heartbreak that hurts so good.
- Because the love triangle is actually done right—the broody bad boy and the golden boy athlete both steal your heart . . . and make you desperate to know who she’ll choose.
What readers are saying
Readers praise the emotional intensity and drama-filled love triangle, praising the author’s ability to balance romantic tension with well-executed emotional arcs.
One five star review says: “Love this book and all of the drama packed inside. Did not expect the end coming. Oh, and completely team Logan!”
Genres
coming-of-age, contemporary romance, first love, high school romance, love triangle, new adult, new adult & college, rock star romance, romance, romantic suspense, small town, sports romance
Tropes and themes
- childhood sweetheart
- broody bad boy musician
- twin flame
- touch her and die
- virgin heroine
- he falls first and harder
- unrequited love
- teen drama
- all the feels
Triggers
A content warning is available due to mature themes and potential triggers.
Book details
- ASIN: B0CLL1LM5H
- ISBN-13: 978-0648603504
- Publisher: Blue Bower Publishing
- Publication date: 29 December 2023
- Print length: 332 pages
Other books in the series
- Fearless Hearts – Book 2
Previous covers
Start reading Reckless Souls now
Chapter one
Lee
The color is wrong. It’s green, green, and more green. As Mom drives down the highway toward my new school, we’re surrounded by trees and boxed in by mountains that reach so high they block the sky.
I miss the beach. I miss the expanse of golden sand and endless turquoise seas. In a few months, I’ll miss the warmth.
“Sit up straight!” Mom snaps, jolting me out of my reverie. “You’ll get a hunchback from how much you slouch.”
My gaze slides from the dense shadowy forest flashing past the passenger window, to my mother, her hands tight on the steering wheel as she peers out the windshield. She is flawless, and the fact that she has to nag me to be as dedicated to my appearance as she is frustrates her to no end. To keep the peace this morning, I’m wearing the white eyelet top and pink capris she bought so I would “fit in” for my first day of senior year.
“Stop fidgeting.” She huffs her annoyance out through her nose. “How many times do I have to remind you what is appropriate for a young lady?”
I fist my hands on my thighs, curling them into tight balls to stop their tapping. My brain reminds me to keep my mouth shut, to just let her comments slide, because the last time I told her she could go to hell, she almost died.
“Dammit, Summer Lee!” Her gaze cuts to me. “I’m talking to you.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, but I’m not. The level of perfection Evelyn Reyes demands is one only she can ascend to. I’ve never been good enough in her sky-blue eyes, and I can’t wait until graduation so I can be done with her for good. But that freedom is a tease: so close, and yet, not close enough.
Her lips stay in their tight line. “You’ve had the week to settle in. That’s more than I gave myself, what with starting my new job and arranging for the repairs on my parents’ house to make it habitable to move into. So, let’s be done with the bad attitude, thank you.”
“I’m sorry.” The best I can hope for is that this apology will shut her up. She lives in her own world so there’s no point telling her that moving to Braemore is like a homecoming for me.
I look out my window and admire the Victorian buildings as we drive down Main Street. The town’s old-time charm attracts tourists all year round, and they bustle along the sidewalk or drink their morning coffee at one of the numerous cafés before checking out the local shops.
Traffic is bumper-to-bumper until we turn onto the highway, and then we’re back to trees. Mom hangs a right and crosses the river and suddenly the red brick turrets of Braemore High School loom ahead—a striking contrast against the backdrop of the mountains.
My nerves kick in as we drive up the hill and the kids start to multiply. I’m used to the uniformity of a navy-blue skirt and jacket, so the array of color is refreshing. I tug at my top, wishing I had stood firm and worn a pair of jeans and a band tee, but my style choice, according to my mother, is more to exasperate her.
As we reach the front of the school, she eases the car into the drop-off zone. “Don’t forget you’re on the bus from now on.” She flattens a manicured hand onto my canvas backpack as I lift it from the floor to my lap. “And do your best to get through today without sending anyone to the hospital.”
It’s just another dig at my behavior, at how my actions reflect on her. I call it self-preservation, so screw her for not applauding me for standing up for myself. It takes all my willpower to tell her goodbye and not slam the car door as I step onto the sidewalk.
My walls go up as I register the stares, the curiosity. I don’t want the attention, and I suck at small talk, so I’m not one to approach new people or to even smile. It left me friendless in LA, so I’m confident I can go one more year of school without friends. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and look up at the two-story red brick building, standing proud among the more modern ones. The imposing architecture is another reminder of the wealth in Braemore—wealth I associate with my old prep school, not a public school in the middle of Pennsylvania.
I trudge up the wide steps and pass through the main doors, then follow the signs to the front office. Sitting in the row of seats where I was instructed in my welcome letter to wait for my “buddy” to show, I find the hard plastic impossible to slouch in. I do my best to get comfortable as I stick in my earbuds, shuffling the drumming playlist on my phone, and close my eyes. I see myself behind the drums as I tap my thighs in time to “Moby Dick.” The beat helps me forget where I am. I’m just a girl on a stage playing with her band. My head wobbles on my shoulders and my feet bounce to the groove.
This is my happy place. Music is a language I understand, and it has defined me since Pop sat me at his piano when I was five and my fingers instinctively knew which key held which note. We spent hours playing together over the summers I stayed with him and Nan, but my enthusiasm became less and less with each passing year that my father pushed me toward a career as a classical pianist. I didn’t get to tell Dad my dream is to be a drummer. He died not knowing what a disappointment I would turn out to be.
A strike of lightning jolts my body to life as something tickles the top of my hand. I look up and my hair stands on end as I stare into a pair of intense blue eyes set amid symmetrical bone structure that would make Apollo himself envious. If this is my buddy, he is beyond gorgeous, and that’s saying something coming from LA.
“Are you Summer Lee Rays?” His rich, smooth voice is a balm to my taut nerves. My eyes catch a glint off the sun-kissed waves caressing the shells of his ears, making my fingers itch to feel sand sifting through them while I sink deeper into a sparkling dark-blue ocean.
His hands slide into the pockets of his khaki chino shorts dotted with navy Ralph Lauren ponies, and I can’t help but notice the flex of his biceps and how well his red Tommy Hilfiger polo molds to his muscular torso.
I’ve entered an alternate reality, where obscenely attractive, rich kids don’t deem it below them to converse with other students.
“It’s just Lee,” I say, removing an earbud as I stand. I’m five-eleven, too tall for a girl. I stand out when I want to blend in. My height makes me aware of anyone taller than me, especially boys, and the one in front of me is at least six-four. In my silver ballet flats, and standing straight, I only eyeball his square jawline. “And it’s Ray‑es. Lee Reyes.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lee Reyes. I’m Logan Michaels, I’m a senior too.” He raises his hand to cover his heart. “I have the privilege of being your escort for the foreseeable future. Whatever your needs, I’m happy to oblige.”
His smarmy smile is enough to turn me off, and then he winks.
Ugh. He’s just another spoiled boy like the ones who hassled me back in LA. Those who ride life on their good looks and money and think a few smooth words will have me dropping my panties. They harassed me enough at my old school that I’ve perfected the skill of putting a conceited asshole in his place. It earned me the reputation of a stuck-up bitch, but it helped to keep the boys at bay. Mostly.
I relish the surge of power invigorating my body as I ready myself to take him down a peg. “Do you charge by the hour?”
A flicker of confusion crosses his face. “What?”
“Your escort services . . .” I ease my gaze down his tall muscular body. “What will they cost me?” Because it’s me who pays when guys with a bloated sense of entitlement take what they want.
He smirks with the assurance of a guy who doesn’t accept failure. “I’m just offering to help a distressed damsel.”
Talk about condescending. Of course, he’d refer to me as the victim. “Likening yourself to a knight in shining armor. You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you?”
His luscious mouth spreads into a grin. “Around here I am, so take a whiff, baby.”
What a pompous dick.
He tips his chin toward the stairwell at the other end of the hallway. “Are you ready to go?”
I slip my backpack over my shoulder. “Lead the way.”
He matches his pace to mine as we walk and then starts in on his spiel. “The campus has five main buildings, an athletics center, and the pool complex. If you drive to school, student parking is in front of the football field. Are you interested in any extracurriculars?”
Keen to start drumming, I want any information I can get. “I want to join the drumline.”
“You should talk to your music teacher, Mrs. Davies, but I do know the drumline practices on the football field before a game.” The bell rings and students flood the hallway, jostling past us, exuberant to get to where they need to be. Logan takes refuge behind a blue locker bank and props his shoulder against the wall. Studying me, he crosses his arms over his broad chest. “We’ll wait it out. It’ll be easier to remember your way around without the chaos.”
I leave a few feet between us and rest my back against the wall as the mayhem in the hallway continues.
“So . . . random question,” he says.
I steel myself, readying for what he’s about to throw at me.
His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips. “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”
Talk about out of left field. I study his innocent expression, looking for signs of duplicity. “That is random.”
He shrugs. “Just curious.”
The question seems safe enough to answer so I give him the truth. “I’d want to fly.”
“Flying is cool. Wolverine is my favorite Marvel character. His ability to regenerate is awesome, but I’d want to heal people too.”
“I don’t know who Wolverine is.”
His eyes bulge like I’m an alien who popped out of a spaceship to ask for directions to the nearest 7-Eleven. “You’re joking?”
Wow, he must really be into his comics to react like I’m the weird one in this scenario. “I can’t be the first person you’ve met who doesn’t read comics.”
A slight crease forms between his eyebrows. “Where did you move here from?”
“Los Angeles.”
He quirks his head to the side, his eyes probing mine. “Do you watch a lot of movies?”
“Not really.”
“That explains it.” He pushes off the wall when a few stragglers stroll past. “Come on, we should get moving.” He heads for the stairs, and when we reach the bottom, we walk to the end of the hallway and pass through an enclosed walkway, which crosses into another building.
“Feeling lost yet?” he asks.
“Nope.” The campus is huge, but I won’t admit defeat.
Coming to a stop, he opens a door and stands aside. “Never fear.” He motions with his hand for me to go ahead. “We’re here.”
As I enter the classroom, conversation stalls, and the not-so-covert glances my way are full of judgment. I hate I’m without my armor of jeans and a band T-shirt as I keep my focus on the teacher’s desk and move forward.
“Hey, Mr. Sternberg!” I stiffen at Logan’s voice behind me. “This is the new girl, Lee Reyes.”
“Find a seat, Miss Reyes.” Mr. Sternberg doesn’t look up from the papers on his desk as he scratches his head with the end of a black pen.
“We’re at the back,” Logan says.
I follow him down the aisle, and he motions for me to sit at a desk that has a black backpack on top of it. I drop my bag to the floor and slide into the empty seat as Logan takes the backpack and sits at the desk beside mine. The girl at the desk in front of him, her pastel blue hair in two messy buns on the sides of her head, turns around in her seat.
Logan nods at her. “Lee, this is Ari McKinnon.”
Butterfly wings stuck to the outer edges of her mascara-coated lashes decorate the hazel eyes boring through me. I stare right back.
“You have Spanish with Ari,” Logan says, overlooking her death glare that swings to him. “Between the two of us, we’ll get you to your classes.”
Her upper lip curls in a sneer. “I didn’t agree to that.”
His sparkling smile is just for her. “You’d be helping me out.”
“Your flash and dazzle don’t work on me, pretty boy.” She turns back to face the front of the class.
I wonder who they are to each other. He introduced her, so maybe they’re friends. Or have I found an ally since she seems impervious to his nauseating allure?
He turns his megawatt smile onto me, and ignoring him, I open my music app and play with my latest composition while Mr. Sternberg drones on about the minutiae of a new school year.
When the bell rings, everyone makes a collective dash for the door. Everyone but me and Logan. Mr. Sternberg sidesteps the stampede as he works his way around the desks to the rear of the classroom and stops in front of mine to hand me a pile of papers. “Here’s your schedule, and read the information I’m giving you. It has your locker combination and other pertinent details. If you have questions, check in with me before homeroom next week.”
“Thank you.” I bend down and stuff what he gave me into my bag.
Logan’s gaze stays riveted to me as he rises from his desk. “You have literature now. It’ll be my honor to accompany you.”
Does his charming shtick seriously work on other girls? I slide out of my seat on the side he’s standing, scowling my contempt. He needs to get the hint that I won’t tolerate his inordinate ego. “That’s your bit, is it?”
He plucks my bag up off the floor. “Just being friendly, Summer Lee.”
My teeth clamp together. He’s trying to get a rise out of me now. “Don’t call me Summer Lee.” I make a grab for my bag.
His arm jerks back, holding my bag out of my reach. “Why not?”
Like I’ll give him ammunition he can use against me. “No reason.” I stomp to the front of the class and glare at him, daring him to make the next move.
He ambles past me, and I seethe at his audacity to keep hold of my bag so that I’m forced to walk with him down the hallway. He exchanges hellos and slaps on the back with half the guys we pass as their eyes give me the once-over, but they have nothing on the girls, who lick their lips as they size up Logan and then eye me with disdain.
It’s a bad start to my first day. There’s no chance of going unnoticed when I’m walking the halls with someone who may very well be the King of Shits at Braemore High.
“And we have arrived.” He stops five doors down from homeroom and offers me my backpack.
I snatch it with both hands and hug it to my chest. “I would have managed if you’d told me where to go.”
“That’s not how I roll.” He walks backward, a huge grin on his face. “I’ll come collect you after class, Summer Lee.”
“Lose my schedule, stalker.” I spin on my heel and enter the classroom, hoping that’s the last I’ll see of his pretentious ass.