Something True by Sabrina Stark

Lawton by Sabrina Stark

How New Release!

Something True (Joel Bishop, Book 2)

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Coming soon to Amazon, the exciting conclusion to Joel and Melody's tumultuous love-story that began with Something Tattered.

To groupies galore, he's Joel Bishop – the sinfully hot fighter who's too hard to hold. But to Melody Blaire, he's the soulmate she sent packing to save him from ruin. Or so she thought.

Now trouble's back, and there's only one way to fix it – by confessing all to the guy she loves. But does Joel still love her after the kill-shot she sent to his heart? And if not, why is he still so protective when it comes to her?

Add in some crazy brothers, shifty lawyers, and enough ups and downs to make Melody scream, and you've got all the ingredients for a fun, romantic tale of young and lasting love.

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Chapter 1 - Sneak Preview

I gave the guy at the door a desperate look. "But why can't I go in?"

The guy was huge, nearly seven feet tall and half as wide. He crossed his beefy arms and said, "Because I don't know you."

I craned my neck to stare up at him. "So?"

"So you don't get in."

Well, that was helpful

It was nearly midnight, and I was huddled outside the nondescript warehouse with a dozen other poor slobs who'd gotten here too late to get inside without a hassle.

But in my own defense, I was three hours from home in an unfamiliar city. My GPS was on the fritz, and I'd gotten lost somewhere between Zippy's Title Loan and Marvin's Pistol and Pawn.

Behind me, I heard a female voice say, "Hey, are you gonna move or what?"

I turned to look. The voice belonged to a buxom brunette in a black mini-skirt and matching bustier. She was showing a lot of skin, and I gave an involuntary shiver. It was mid-November, and we were north of Detroit. It wasn't quite freezing, but it was long past bustier weather.

Where was her coat? Cripes, I was wearing a coat – a long one, too – and I was still freezing. Either she was immune to the cold, or she was willing to die, literally, to look like a high-class call girl.

She gave me a nasty smirk. "You see something you like?"

Embarrassed to be caught staring, I looked down, only to feel my heart leap out of my chest. Oh, my God. I did, in fact, see something – or someone, depending on how I looked at it.

The something was the slick black-and-white photo clutched in the girl's manicured hands.

The someone was the guy in the photo – and not just any guy.

My guy.


In the photo, he was shirtless and glistening. His hair was damp, and his eyes were dark. The photo appeared to be some sort of publicity shot, like something a movie star might sign for a fan.

But Joel wasn't a movie star. He was an underground fighter -- not that I'd realized it the first time we'd met. That was how long ago?

Eight weeks.

Six of those weeks had been utter bliss. I'd slept in Joel's arms. I'd kissed him a million times over. I'd felt his hands on my ass and his lips on every private inch my suddenly warm body.

And now, I could hardly breathe. My eyes were still glued to his image. It was a perfect likeness from what I could tell in the dim light of the warehouse parking lot.

His body looked amazing, practically a work of art, with all those chiseled muscles and interesting ridges in all the right places. But it wasn't just his body, or even his beautiful face, that I was desperately missing.

It was him, the incredible person I'd discovered underneath that tough exterior. He was warm and funny, and surprisingly sensitive, especially for a guy who made his money by beating the crap out of other fighters.

My stomach sank as a terrifying realization hit home. He was probably doing that right now, inside that big gray warehouse, just a few feet away.

I had to see him.

And I had to stop him.

But how? Right now, I could barely move. I knew why. It was because of the photo. I couldn't bring myself to look away. But then, suddenly, it was gone, yanked back by the girl holding it.

She made a sound of annoyance. "What's your problem, anyway?"

I looked up. "What?"

"Well, first, you're staring at me. And then, you're staring at him. What are you? Desperate or something?"

Yes. I was desperate. Stupidly, I mumbled, "I, um, know him."

"Oh yeah?" She gave me a not-so-friendly smile. "Well, I'm gonna know him, if you know what I mean." Her voice rose. "So back off, sister. I'm not freezing my ass off for nothing."

I could hardly think. "Huh?"

"Yeah. You think I'm dressed like this for my health?" She thrust out her chest. "I'm giving him a good eyeful of these."

I looked. They were quite nice, perfectly round and nearly overflowing from the tight bodice of her bustier. I had to wonder, would Joel really be getting an eyeful?

Oh, God. What if it was worse? What if he'd be getting a handful? Or – my stomach gave a sudden lurch – a mouthful?

I didn't know what to say, but I did know that the thought of Joel ogling, touching, or licking any other girl was a dagger straight into my own chest. I loved him. And he loved me.

I was sure of it, even now – because when it came to that kind of love, it didn't simply go away, just because everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

The girl's annoyed voice broke into my thoughts. "Hey! I wanted him to look, not you."

Startled, I looked up. "What?'

"I said, these—" She gave her goodies a little jiggle. "–are for him." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Not for you."

Instantly, my face burst into flames. It belatedly occurred to me that for who-knows-how-long, I'd been staring straight at her chest.

I was losing it, totally.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I was, um, thinking of something else."

"Sure you were." She gave a toss of her long, dark hair. "Pervert."

Well, that was a first.

From a few feet away, the big guy blocking the door called out, "Hey! Chickies! If you're waiting for Bishop, you're in the wrong place."

I turned to look. Bishop? Oh. Of course, he meant Joel. That was, after all, Joel's last name.

God, what was my problem lately? It was like my entire brain had turned to mush.

Then again, was it any wonder? Joel and I had parted on such awful terms, and I'd spent the last two weeks frantically searching for him. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop wondering where he'd gone or what he was doing.

I had to find him.

Here, I thought I had found him. But the guy at the door had just said otherwise. Was he serious?

I was just about to ask when Miss Bustier beat me to the punch by demanding, "What do you mean we're in the wrong place?"

He flicked his head toward the side of the building. "Groupies over there."

I looked to where he'd indicated. Around the side of the building, I spotted a big set of double doors. Outside those doors stood a gaggle of girls who were all decidedly underdressed.

The way it looked, Miss Bustier had some serious competition. As for me, I wanted no part of that scene. I only prayed that Joel didn't either. 

I turned back to the guy and said, "I'm not a groupie."

Miss Bustier called out, "Yeah. Me neither."

The guy gave us a bored look. "Uh-huh. Do what you want, but I'm telling ya, if you wanna catch him, that's where he'll be."

And just like that, Miss Bustier was off in a flash, hustling in her high heels toward the side entrance. And heaven help me, a moment later, I was scrambling after her.

(End of Sneak Peek)

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Still need to read the first book?

Get 'Something Tattered' (Joel Bishop Book#1).



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