: Lily Clements
: Healing the Broken Drummer A Rockstar Forced Proximity Steamy Romance
: Publishdrive
: 9798905166204
: 1
: CHF 3.00
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 300
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB

Three weeks on a tour bus with the drummer who hasn't spoken to a woman in eight years.
She was supposed to film the band. Not crack him open.


Sienna Reyes has forty-six hours to pack three weeks of clothing, fly to Nashville, and walk onto the Mercury Skies tour bus as the band's new social media manager. The job came at her at six-forty-seven on a Tuesday morning. She said yes before she finished her coffee.


What the label did not tell her - what nobody told her until the van ride from the airport - was that the drummer's ex-girlfriend had released a song about him the previous afternoon. The song was calledEighteen. The bridge had a line that wentyou played the drums like you knew you'd lose me. The song was climbing the charts the morning Sienna walked into the green room and met the quietest member of the band, who did not stand up to shake her hand and would not let her photograph him at soundcheck.


Jude Walker has been carrying one specific heartbreak since he was eighteen years old. He has built his entire interior architecture around not being seen.


Then Sienna takes one photograph of him during soundcheck - a candid he did not give her permission to take - and refuses to delete it.


What begins as a photographer-and-subject standoff becomes three weeks of forced proximity on a tour bus through eight Midwestern cities. A viral TikTok that puts Jude's tattoo in S-tier. A rule about being filmed that becomes a conversation about being seen. A hotel room in St. Louis at midnight. A kitchenette at two AM where Jude finally tells her about Cassidy, and Sienna's response -'You don't get to be thirty-four still being eighteen about it' - cracks open something he didn't know was still capable of being cracked open.


The internet is going to notice them. Cassidy is going to notice them. Sienna is going to leave. He is going to have to come find her.


Healing The Broken Drummer is a slow-burn forced-proximity rockstar romance about the man who needed to be witnessed and the woman who walked toward him at the smallest possible increment every day for three weeks until he met her halfway.


Heat level: Open-door steamy. One full scene, earned by twelve chapters of slow burn. Lovable rom-com tone throughout. HEA.


Tropes: br />⭐ Slow-burn forced proximity on a tour bus
⭐ Grumpy drummer × sunshine social media manager
⭐ Content creator heroine with a real interior life
⭐ Sixteen-year teenage-sweetheart wound
⭐ The ex never appears on page - only the song
⭐ Found-family band
⭐ He falls first
⭐ Black moment with a real grand gesture
⭐ HEA that earns itself across two cities and a flight


For readers who love Tessa Bailey, Sarah Adams, Carley Fortune, Emily Henry, and Hannah Grace.


One-clickHea ing The Broken Drummer for a love story that takes its time, earns every kiss, and gives you a heroine who walks toward what she wants instead of waiting to be chosen.

CHAPTER THREE


The Green Room — Sienna


The first person Sienna met was Diego.

She knew this would be the case before she met him. There was always going to be a Diego in a six-piece rock band. Every band had a Diego. The Diego was the band member who walked up to a new person within ten seconds of the new person entering the room and started an inappropriate conversation. Sienna had been to enough festival green rooms in her professional life to recognize a Diego at fifteen feet.

This particular Diego had three neck tattoos and was sitting cross-legged on the floor and was looking up at her with the expression of a man who had decided, before she put down her bags, that she was going to be his favorite person on the tour.

"Hi," Diego said."Are you the new content girl."

"I am the new content person, yes."

"Why did you bring a ring light. Are you going to ring-light us. Are we about to be ring-lit."

"I am not going to ring-light you in a green room, Diego."

"You know my name."

"You're on the band's website. I did my homework on the plane."

"What position did you have me at."

"Position?"

"In the band hierarchy. Top to bottom. By the time you got to the venue. Where was I."

Sienna set down two of her bags. She did this slowly, because the slow was a kind of performance she was doing for her own benefit, and because she was twenty-eight and had been doing this for six years and she knew exactly what it looked like when a bassist tried to figure out where he stood with a new woman in his orbit, and she also knew that the answer to that question was usually *higher than he expected if she handled the next sentence correctly.* She picked up her ring-light bag again. She turned to face Diego fully.

"Diego," she said."You were third. After the frontman and the lead guitarist. I had you above the keys player and above the rhythm guitarist and above the drummer, because I had read three of your interviews and you talk about your bass tech by name, which is a thing only certain kinds of musicians do, and the kind of musician who does it is the kind I respect more than the kind who doesn't."

Diego put his hand over his heart.

"Sienna."

"What."

"I am going to marry you."

"Diego, you are going to do no such thing."

"I am going to write *Diego loves Sienna* on the inside of the bus toilet."

"Diego."

"It is going to be in Sharpie."

"Diego."

"Welcome to the tour."

There was, behind Diego, a small choking sound that turned into a real laugh. Sienna looked up. The man laughing was sitting on the couch with his arm along the back of it, beard, very tall, holding a coffee cup. She knew him from photographs. Mason Reeves, the frontman. The functional adult.

"Hi, Mason."

"Hi, Sienna."

"He's going to ring-light us," Diego said.

"She's not going to ring-light us," Mason said.

"She brought one."

"She brought one because she's a professional. Professionals own ring lights. Diego, get off the floor."

Diego got off the floor.

Mason stood up and shook Sienna's hand. His handshake was the handshake of a man who had been doing this for a long time — firm, brief, eye contact for one and a half seconds. He had a wedding ring. The wedding ring had been in seven photographs Sienna had looked up on the plane.

"Thanks for coming in on short notice."

"Marcus did not tell me what I was getting into."

"Marcus is a smart man. He's also kind of a dick."

"Paulie said the same thing."

"Paulie's right too."

Sienna laughed. She had been laughing for about thirteen seconds in this green room. The laughing felt good. The laughing was also doing a job, which she was aware of doing — she was establishing herself as someone who could keep up with a band, who was not going to be intimidated by the band, who was going to walk in and be a person rather than a tourist. The laughing was also genuine. Both things were true. Sienna had learned, over six years of working with musicians, that the trick was to be exactly as much yourself as you actually were and not slightly more, because the slight-more was the part the musicians smelled and held against you.

"Okay," Mason said."Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Diego, who you've met."

"I have met him."

"This is Asher, our lead guitar."

The lanky one on the other end of the couch raised one hand. He had the kind of face that was going to be hard to photograph because half of it was always going to be in shadow.

"Hi, Asher."

"Hi, Sienna."

"That's the whole conversation," Mason said."Asher does not say more than four words in the first conversation. Don't take it personally."

"I'm not taking it personally."

"And this is Wren, our keys."

Wren stood up from the couch. Wren was about Sienna's height with cropped silver hair, mid-forties, an expression of quiet curiosity, and the calmest hands Sienna had ever seen on a musician. She shook Sienna's hand. The handshake had warmth in it.

"Sienna. I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you'll have me."

"We'll see how glad we are in three weeks."

"That's fair."

Wren smiled, briefly. Wren had, Sienna noticed, the kind of face that didn't