Genre: Contemporary Romance
She can't remember. He can't forget.
Eva Baumann is invisible. Sebastian Weiss is famous. In a perfect world Eva would be fearless and Sebastian would be guiltless.
It's not a perfect world.
Singer
songwriter Eva Baumann has a celebrity crush on Sebastian Weiss. He’s
perfect to love because there was no way they could ever be a thing.
She’s a nobody. He’s a heart throb. Hiding an infatuation is easy for
her because, since her accident, hiding is what she did best.
Sebastian
Weiss’s band climbed the charts, seemingly overnight, and he’s finally
living the dream. All he has to do is write enough songs to produce a
second album. The bad news is he hasn’t written a new song in over a
year.
Sebastian stumbles into the Blue Note Pub in time to hear
Eva Baumann perform a hauntingly beautiful song. Could this girl be the
answer to defeating his writer’s block?
Eva and Sebastian begin a
complicated writing relationship that leads to more. But Sebastian has a
secret that will devastate them both.
Buy Now on Amazon
Excerp:
Gabriele had dared her to do this. “Just walk in, sign your name, and
play a song for heaven's sake.” It was easy for her to say. Eva
Baumann's sister didn't understand what it was like to be afraid. What
it was like to be invisible. Gabriele oozed confidence, tall and lithe
like a runway model, lighting up every room she entered. She was pretty,
talented, smart.
And not handicapped.
Eva eyed the graffiti-marred entrance of the Blue Note Pub and watched
as other musicians and-patrons strolled into the darkened room. Music
pumping from the sound system escaped into the narrow corridor of
four-story stone buildings every time the heavy wooden door opened and
closed. Eva carefully set down her guitar case and rested her hand over
her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow. The muscle pulsed erratically,
and her stomach wanted to dry heave.
Eva gripped her cane with white knuckles. She'd learned to master the
uneven sidewalks with careful steps, but the cobblestones were still a
nemesis, especially in colder months like March. The rubber knob
on
the tip of her cane had to center on a stone, otherwise she could lose
her balance and fall. It was necessary to wait for a break in traffic or
to continue to the corner for a walk light before daring to cross the
street.
She took a deep breath. She could do this. This
was
just an irrational fear—not real. Nothing bad would happen to her in
that room. It was filled with people who loved music as much as she did.
It was loud and crowded and dark, and no one would expect her to talk.
When they called her name, she'd focus on the small stage, blocking out
everyone in the room out until she safely stepped up. Then she'd just
close her eyes and pretend she was at the street church playing to the
people who came
for the soup they provided.
She could do this.
A cold wind blew hair across
Eva's face
and she snapped to attention just as the little green man flashed on to
indicate it was safe to walk. She lumbered across with a guitar in her
left hand and her cane in her right. The weight of her instrument pulled
her shoulders forward, her back arching slightly under her winter
jacket. She caught her reflection in a store window and frowned. She
looked like a crazy, old lady, not a nineteen-year-old girl.
Eva tucked her cane under her left armpit and reached for the door. It
swung open sharply, a patron had exited at the same moment, and she was
shoved against the wall, nearly losing her balance.
“Excuse me,” the guy said. He held the door open, waiting for her to go
in. She wanted to turn around and head straight home, but the guy's eyes
stayed on her, waiting. The cold air whooshed inside.
It would be impolite not to pass through. “Thank you,” she said softly.
She leaned on her cane and entered. She'd been to the Blue Note before.
Gabriele and her British boyfriend Lennon Smith had dragged her out one
night, so she knew what to expect. There was a bar to the right and
table seating to the left. A poster on the wall read: “If you want to
chat with your pals while the band is playing, take your conversation
outside.” The air smelled of beer and cigarette smoke clinging to damp
wool jackets. At the back of the
midsized room was a small stage lit by two lights hanging from the ceiling.
Her stomach churned, and once again she questioned herself. Why had she
come? What did she have to prove? Why did she care so much what Gabriele
thought? She stared back at the door.
“Hello,
ma Cherie. Would you like to sign your name?”
The gruff yet friendly voice stopped Eva before she could leave. She
knew the manager, Herr Maurice Leduc, by reputation, but had never
spoken to him before. “I don't know,” she answered.
“Well—” His eyes darted to the guitar in her hand. “I just thought since
you lugged that thing in with you.” He pushed the sign-up sheet closer.
Eva didn't have the heart to deny the man. She took the pen and scribbled her name.
“Wonderful,” Herr Leduc said with a sincere grin that filled a round
face. “I look forward to hearing you play...” he glanced down at his
sheet, “Eva Baumann.”
The room consisted of a lot of wood. Tables, chairs, benches and
floors—all darkly stained, old wood. Even the ceiling had rough, open
wood beams. Eva claimed a nearby empty chair and breathed in and out,
long and slow. She was here. She'd done it. Wait until she told
Gabriele. Wouldn't she be surprised?
A server arrived, and Eva ordered a cola. The other people who shared
the long table gave her sideways glances at her childish drink and
cheered each other as they lifted their beer glasses.
Herr Leduc walked on stage and welcomed everyone. He called the first
act, a girl with long, golden hair, he introduced as Katja Stoltz.
Eva listened intently impressed with the girl's talent and the way she
took over the stage like she owned it. That was what Eva needed to do.
Own it.
The girl finished her song, and after
much-deserved
applause, she joined her friends at a table across the room. A guy in
his early twenties with a peacock tattoo along one arm stood to give
Katja Stoltz a hug. He had messy, dark brown hair and bristles on his
face, like he hadn’t
shaven in a few days. He laughed and high-fived her before sitting and draping the peacock around a thin girl with spiky hair.
A shiver ran up Eva's back. She recognized that guy. Last summer, when
she was playing guitar for the homeless, many of them had raised their
hands to God in praise. The outside metal blinds had been raised, they
always were when the church was open, and a group of guys had stopped to
watch from across the street. They began to laugh and then threw their
arms in the air, mocking the people worshiping inside.
That was the first time Eva had seen that peacock tattoo, and she'd
never forget the laughing face of the handsome boy who went with it.
Her short-lived confidence shriveled at the thought of being the guy's
next target. Oh, why did she come? She'd leave right now if she thought
she could do it without making a scene. The room had filled, and there
was no way she could slip out unnoticed with her guitar and her cane.
She sipped her cola and kept her eyes focused on each act as it was
called. Every time Herr Leduc stepped to the mic to call a name, Eva’s
heart filled with nervous dread and emptied with a flush of relief when
she didn't hear
hers.
“
Sebastian Weiss,” Herr Leduc said.
The guy with the peacock tattoo hooted, shifted out from behind his table and grabbed his guitar.
So that was his name.
He hopped onto the stage and strapped on a guitar with an over-confidence Eva envied. She wanted him to be
terrible so
that she could add self-delusion to his other obvious traits of conceit
and insensitivity, but unfortunately he wasn't. His voice was smooth
and strong, and he had great range.
She also happened to notice the flex in his biceps that poked out of the
short sleeves of his dark T-shirt and how his jeans fit nicely on
slender hips.
He finished his song and fisted the air like he just won a boxing match.
The audience went crazy. Eva couldn't help but join in the applause.
Something about Sebastian was electric. His aura and competence, his
popularity—she couldn't peel her eyes off him. His arm returned to its
position around the girl beside him who hadn't smiled once. Such a
contrast to
Sebastian who couldn't stop smiling. He seemed quite taken by the pixie girl and kissed her excitedly on the cheek.
“Eva Baumann.”
What? Eva had been so busy watching the table of cool people, she hadn't been paying attention.
Herr Leduc's accented German bellowed again. “Eva Baumann.”
Eva's heart stopped. Then raced. Her hands broke out into a sweat, and
she blinked back the tears welling up behind her eyes, which were opened
far too wide. Her head prickled hotly, and she swallowed hard. She
could sense the attention of the room, necks craning, everyone
searching, waiting for the next act to stand.
Herr Leduc stared at her, and all she could do was shake her head. He gave her a gracious nod and called the next name.
A girl with short, dark hair bounced out of her seat, and within seconds
Eva was forgotten. She took advantage of the swirl of commotion that
occurred between acts, grabbing her guitar and cane, and limped to the
entrance.
It was a terrible mistake to come, she thought as she hobbled down the
crusty street. She kept her head bowed low against the cold, and gripped
her guitar case and her cane. If she'd had a third hand, she'd swipe at
the bitter tear that slid down her cheek.
Hey!
I'm author LEE STRAUSS.
I write mixed genre ROMANCE, most recently, The Minstrel Series.
I
also write fun, lower Young Adult (teen) fiction to do with whimsical
things like time-travel, fairies and merfolk (with a nice helping of
romance!) as ELLE Strauss.
There's always a TIME for romance!!
I love to connect with my fans. I'm on
facebook and twitter:
@leestraussbooks.
For information on new releases sign up for my newsletter!
www.leestraussbooks.com
Other
trivia about me: I'm a married mother of four; I sometimes live in
Canada and sometimes Germany; I'm fond of dark chocolate, and soy
lattes; I like yoga, cycling and hiking in good weather.
contact: leestraussbooks@gmail.com