Would any of you be interested in reading and reviewing The Runaway Rockstar? This book was originally published as That Song in Patagonia. Here's the blurb:
When Adrienne discovers her husband, Seb, has been unfaithful, the illusion of her perfect life is indelibly shattered and she flees.
Nick, a shop owner who suddenly finds himself the center of media attention, follows.
They both escape to Latin America for different reasons. Adrienne is tired of turning a blind eye to her husband’s affairs. Nick trails after her, not only because he’s become an overnight YouTube sensation and he doesn’t know how to handle it, but also because he’s secretly been in love with Adrienne, his cousin’s wife, for years.
Two people with hurting hearts and unrealized dreams explore the streets of Buenos Aires and the South American countryside, and it changes them both forever. And what they find in each other is something that might just heal them both.
Still on the fence?
Maybe this excerpt will seal the deal:
From Chapter One
Nick stared in horror at the computer screen. “How did this happen?” His voice, usually so deep and melodic, came out in a croaky whisper.
“Come on,” Steph elbowed him, “you have to admit this is amazing for business!”
Nick pulled his gaze away from YouTube to give her what he hoped was a terrifying glare. She was like a sister to him. He had backed her when her parents had thrown a fit about her purple hair and multiple piercings. He had chased off her loser boyfriend. He loved her and thought the feeling mutual, but all those warm fuzzy feelings were evaporating as he watched himself singing on the internet and realized she was the one to blame.
Steph grinned back at him, wiped her hands on her apron, and pointed her chin at the line snaking around the counter of Bar de Música. “They don’t just come here for cocoa, you know.” She patted his shoulder and practically skipped out of the office.
He watched her join Jon behind the counter and say something to the guy next in line, who threw back his head and laughed.
Nick told himself they weren’t laughing at him. Were they? He glanced at the computer. According to the views counts, so far about a thousand people had watched the video of him singing at his cousin Pedro’s wedding. There had to be millions of amateur videos of people singing at weddings—why would a thousand people choose to watch him? Of course, it didn’t help that his cousin’s bulldog, Lester, dressed in a tux, gave Nick his rapt attention, his big head swinging in time with the music. How had Nick not noticed this at the time? He replayed the video, curious about what else he’d missed.
Jon strode into the office. “Are you still obsessing over that?”
Nick shook his head, closed the laptop with a sharp click, and pushed away from the desk. “Nah.”
“I don’t know why you want to hide your talent beneath a bushel.” Jon was studying to become a youth pastor and liked to spout Biblical phrases. “You have a gift. You have to let it shine.”
Nick interrupted before Jon could start singing, “This Little Light of Mine.” “No, I don’t. What I have to do is keep this shop afloat.” Nick thought about going out and wiping down tables—his standard go-to when his accounts were all caught up—but the fear that some of the guests had seen the video froze him. He paced across the room.
Concern flashed in Jon’s eyes. “We’re doing fine, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Nick stopped and clapped a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re doing great.” In fact, they were doing much better than he’d projected when he’d opened the café. He’d patterned the shop after his uncle’s in Uruguay. Like any standard coffee shop, they served hot beverages and a smattering of baked goods, but what set them apart from a Starbucks was their open microphone for musicians, poets, and comedians. They also sold vinyl records and vintage sound systems.
Nick’s thoughts drifted to Jose and he fought a wave of homesickness. But moments later, the sound of his own voice jolted him back to the here and now. He glanced at the closed laptop before bolting out of the office.
He halted behind the counter and stared at the TV screen in the corner of the room. All the patrons in the shop turned to stare at him before bursting into applause and cheers. Stunned, Nick backed away. Moments later, without any real recollection of how he’d gotten there, he found himself in the service closet wedged between a shelf of cleaning supplies and a hamper of dirty aprons. He pulled out his phone, sank into a squat, typed in YouTube, and found the video of himself and Lester.
Five thousand views.
How is this happening? His head spun. There weren’t even five thousand people in Jose’s entire village. He let this process before he climbed to his feet. So, five thousand views. Everyone was watching Lester. Not him. And as Steph had said, this would be good for the shop. Publicity was publicity.
He checked his reflection in the mirror and smoothed his thick dark hair, before squaring his shoulders and heading back into the fray. The number of patrons had at least doubled. The shop had an occupancy capacity of three hundred, and while they were nowhere near that number, they still had twice as many guests as was typical for a Thursday afternoon.
He glanced outside at the weak January sun attempting to singe the edges of gray clouds. The rain was good for business. But so, apparently, were musical dog videos.
A blinding light flashed, making Nick blink. Had someone just taken his picture?
If this looks like your cup of tea, let me know and I'll send you copy via Amazon once it's live.
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