Every hit song starts with one thing... heartbreak.
Wingwoman, an all-new steamy, country rockstar romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Katana Collins is available now!
As a country rockstar, I know one thing for sure: Every hit song starts with one thing... heartbreak.
She had two weeks to find my next muse...
...or she, herself, had to become it.
As a country rockstar, I know one thing for sure: Every hit song starts with one thing: heartbreak.
I've got six weeks to write my next hit album or else I'll lose everything: My label. My ranch. My horse rescue.
In order to save everything else, I have to lose the most important thing of all: My heart.
Which means that to write this album, I need a muse.
This is where hiring Hope Evans comes in. Professional Wingwoman and matchmaker extraordinaire.
There’s one problem – my muse has decided it wants Hope.
Another problem? Hope refuses to be The One.
So I made her a bet. She has two weeks to find me a muse... or she herself has to become it.
If she loses our bet, she’ll be losing her heart.
Because hearts like mine don't love...
They shatter.
In fact, I'm counting on it.
She had two weeks to find my next muse...
...or she, herself, had to become it.
As a country rockstar, I know one thing for sure: Every hit song starts with one thing: heartbreak.
I've got six weeks to write my next hit album or else I'll lose everything: My label. My ranch. My horse rescue.
In order to save everything else, I have to lose the most important thing of all: My heart.
Which means that to write this album, I need a muse.
This is where hiring Hope Evans comes in. Professional Wingwoman and matchmaker extraordinaire.
There’s one problem – my muse has decided it wants Hope.
Another problem? Hope refuses to be The One.
So I made her a bet. She has two weeks to find me a muse... or she herself has to become it.
If she loses our bet, she’ll be losing her heart.
Because hearts like mine don't love...
They shatter.
In fact, I'm counting on it.
“Why don’t you just spit it out already, Josh?”
Momentary surprise lifted his face, but disappeared as quickly as it came on. “I need a muse.”
“I’ve always been partial to whiskey brown eyes. A girl who can have a killer comeback ready at any moment, and who can be just as comfortable around me in heels as she is in flip flops.”
He’d just described me.
“She has to be willing to ride a horse.” My gaze flicked to his crotch for only a fraction of a second.
How was I supposed to tell her I’d found her already? That she was my muse.
Ask any of the great artists … the best muse is one that’s complicated.
If I knew men… and I think I did… there was one thing that would bother any ex. Seeing his ex-fiance trading up with a bigger and better celebrity. Especially one that craved the spotlight as it sounded like her ex did. It sent my mind whirring with ideas.
”Move those hands or I tie them up.”
“I won’t last last long if you keep that up.”
“And in reality, we’re gonna be picking hay out of places where the sun don’t shine for days to come.”
“Good girl,”
“He looked at me in a way that I got the impression he not only saw me… but also knew me. Maybe even more than I knew myself.”
Hope’s lips formed an o-shape and I couldn’t help but notice the sheen of moisture across them. Wet. Ready. Ready for me.
“You have sixty seconds.”
- “Sixty seconds? Guess I better make them count.”
Could I do this? Say yes to one of my clients? For the first time in my career, could I allow myself to be the woman, not just the wingwoman?
I wanted to kiss her. Make her forget this world existed.
As I leaned down, her gasp filled the space between us and her whimper was the last thing I heard before I took her mouth, kissing her hard.
Publicly.
For all to see.
His potent scent surrounded me and I could taste the remnants of peppermint from his toothpaste as he groaned and hugged me closer, deepening the kiss.
Now, more than ever, I needed to stick to the plan. Fall in love. Let Hope destroy my wasted heart. Give the producers the songs they needed— my blood on the sheet music.
Hope Marcoux-Evans: Professional Wingwoman. I’m like your specialized dating co-pilot. A cockcomplice. A cooter recruiter. Take your pick. Basically, I’m a matchmaker, but I take my job one step further. My clients are the bait and I’m the fishing pole, directing that chum through the fish-filled ocean that is the dating world. And I am damn good at my job.
Learn more about Katana Collins and her releases by visiting her websites:
https://katanacollins.com
Momentary surprise lifted his face, but disappeared as quickly as it came on. “I need a muse.”
“I’ve always been partial to whiskey brown eyes. A girl who can have a killer comeback ready at any moment, and who can be just as comfortable around me in heels as she is in flip flops.”
He’d just described me.
“She has to be willing to ride a horse.” My gaze flicked to his crotch for only a fraction of a second.
How was I supposed to tell her I’d found her already? That she was my muse.
Ask any of the great artists … the best muse is one that’s complicated.
If I knew men… and I think I did… there was one thing that would bother any ex. Seeing his ex-fiance trading up with a bigger and better celebrity. Especially one that craved the spotlight as it sounded like her ex did. It sent my mind whirring with ideas.
”Move those hands or I tie them up.”
“I won’t last last long if you keep that up.”
“And in reality, we’re gonna be picking hay out of places where the sun don’t shine for days to come.”
“Good girl,”
“He looked at me in a way that I got the impression he not only saw me… but also knew me. Maybe even more than I knew myself.”
Hope’s lips formed an o-shape and I couldn’t help but notice the sheen of moisture across them. Wet. Ready. Ready for me.
“You have sixty seconds.”
- “Sixty seconds? Guess I better make them count.”
Could I do this? Say yes to one of my clients? For the first time in my career, could I allow myself to be the woman, not just the wingwoman?
I wanted to kiss her. Make her forget this world existed.
As I leaned down, her gasp filled the space between us and her whimper was the last thing I heard before I took her mouth, kissing her hard.
Publicly.
For all to see.
His potent scent surrounded me and I could taste the remnants of peppermint from his toothpaste as he groaned and hugged me closer, deepening the kiss.
Now, more than ever, I needed to stick to the plan. Fall in love. Let Hope destroy my wasted heart. Give the producers the songs they needed— my blood on the sheet music.
Hope Marcoux-Evans: Professional Wingwoman. I’m like your specialized dating co-pilot. A cockcomplice. A cooter recruiter. Take your pick. Basically, I’m a matchmaker, but I take my job one step further. My clients are the bait and I’m the fishing pole, directing that chum through the fish-filled ocean that is the dating world. And I am damn good at my job.
Learn more about Katana Collins and her releases by visiting her websites:
https://katanacollins.com
MY REVIEW
Hope's in Texas keeping her head down but also taking on some clients for her wingwoman business, when she catches the eye of a gorgeous country star. Josh needs a muse, some inspiration to complete his upcoming album. He took one look at Hope and started feeling all kinds of things. She. She's the one he wants to be his muse, but she's not about to get involved with another guy like him. How can he get her to see she should be his inspiration? Well, challenging her to find him one, or she take on the role herself, should be the perfect way.
Though Wingwoman is lots of fun, there are heavier threads when Josh's baggage becomes an issue. I appreciated this contrast, and really felt for not just Josh, but even more for Hope when his issues hurt her so much. I do so love it when a damaged hero finds healing and love with a fabulous woman, and Wingwoman is a great example of why I love this trope so much with their witty dialogue, delicious chemistry, and the way they fell so hard for each other.
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