New Release: Blissful Tragedy by Amy Gale

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, New Adult Romance
Release Date: February 20, 2014
Digital ISBN -10: 1631120050 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-005-3
Print ISBN 10: 1631120069 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-006-0
Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html
Blissful Tragedy:
Sometimes love is more than tragedy or bliss.
Ambitious 22-year-old Lexie Waters is intent on taking the advertising world by storm.  When she’s offered the soon to be open position she’s been vying for at a swanky advertising agency, there’s only one last summer separating her from dreams of corporate success.  Still bitter from catching her boyfriend cheating, she heads out for a night of fun to see her favorite band, Devil’s Garden, but fun turns into utter embarrassment when she insults the enticingly confident lead singer, Van Sinclair.  Van is intrigued by Lexie’s ability to resist his charm and secretly obtains her cell number.  Shocked but eager to get to know this captivating rocker, Lexie accepts Van’s invitation to see his next show, which requires an overnight stay.  The overwhelming feelings that follow take them both by surprise, and with two months left before starting her sought after new position, Lexie joins the tour. As she’s catapulted into the world of groupies and wild parties, she questions Van’s commitment to her. So what happens at summer’s end when time runs out?
About Amy L Gale:
Romance author by night, pharmacist by day, Amy Gale loves rock music and the feel of sand between her toes.  She attended Wilkes University where she graduated with a Doctor of Pharmacy degree. In addition to writing, she enjoys baking, scary movies, rock concerts, and reading books at the beach.  She lives in the lush forest of Northeastern Pennsylvania with her husband, six cats, and golden retriever.
How to contact Amy L Gale:
Amzie13793@aol.com
 
 
 
 
Excerpt of Blissful Tragedy:

CHAPTER 1—THE CONCERT

An eerie silence takes over the dark night sky. I stare straight ahead and breathe slowly, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. The crisp, cool, spring air caresses my body and heightens my senses. I shiver slightly. The bone-rattling drum beat pulsates through my chest. I jump up from my seat as the guitar screams its heavy ear-splitting shriek, like a choir of electric angels. A frenzy of loud cheers emerges, piercing through the calmness as hundreds of fans leap to their feet. The bright lights focus on center stage. I take a deep breath and stare at the silhouette slowly being illuminated.
Van Sinclair stands so close that if I lunged forward, I’d crash into six feet of pure muscle. My eyes fixate on his light-brown, shoulder length, perfectly messy hair that frames his chiseled face. Then, they travel down to the tight black T-shirt that clings to every sculpted muscle of his torso, flaunting them in just the right way. My lips part and chills flood my body causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I hold in a deep breath and slowly exhale as he grips the microphone stand, pulling it close to his body. He closes his eyes and begins to belt out the lyrics. His raw powerful tones, both decades old and brand new at the same time, resonate through the night sky. Hot lights shining down on the stage highlight a bead of sweat that runs down his arm, over the impeccably detailed dragon tattooed on his left bicep. He lifts his head and looks into the crowd. My heart races as I stare into his exquisite emerald green eyes, mesmerized.
“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” Brooke yells into my ear, breaking my trance. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”
“You can say that again,” Sydney agrees.
Breathless, all I can do is nod.
Devil’s Garden is promoting their best album yet. Even though the two-thousand-seat amphitheater is not the largest of venues, it’s sold out tonight. A wall of bodies closes in, pushing us toward the stage. The hard wood against my palms keeps the crowd at bay. Can it keep me from being crushed for the whole two hour set? My skin glistens as the three of us sway, moving to the music. Wait, is Van Sinclair watching me? Yeah right, like that would happen.