COVER REVEAL - SOUL SISTERS: Scarlett by Nicole James
Title: SOUL SISTERS: Scarlett
Series: Soul Sisters #2
Author: Nicole James
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Designs
Release Date: September 9, 2021
BLURB
What happens when twin sisters switch places? Scarlett and Charlotte have been estranged for years, and the secret that tore them apart pushed them into two very different life paths. One became a rock star and the other a biker chick. Can walking in each other's shoes mend their relationship and heal old wounds?
The exciting conclusion to the Soul Sisters Duet.
When Rocker Charlotte Justice proposed exchanging places with Scarlett, the owner of Badlands, a biker bar outside Vegas, Scarlett thought she'd get a chance at the limelight she felt was stolen from her, and perhaps escape the devastating grief she's been living with ever since she lost the love of her life.
So on a whim, they decide to switch places like they did when they were kids.
What harm could it do?
Scarlett has no idea that taking Charlotte's place will lead her to answers she's sought all her life, not to mention meeting the one man who might be able to heal her broken heart. Will the billionaire that's fallen for her stick around when she reveals she's not the rock star she's pretending to be?
Flying blind in her new role, Scarlett will have to navigate the cut-throat, and sometimes backstabbing world of concert promotion, recording labels and unscrupulous managers. It's not all signing autographs, choosing pretty costumes and playing with the band.
Scarlett will learn more about her rock star sister than she ever imagined.
Will it be enough to bring them back together, this time closer than ever?
And this time will love conquer all?
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EXCERPT
CHAPTER THREE
Lane Grantham—
I hate winters in New York. I’ve had enough of overcast skies growing up in London. Perhaps that’s what drew me to the sunny southwestern United States to start up the first in a line of boutique hotels here in Las Vegas.
It’s so opposite of the Grantham Hotel brand that I’m sure my proper father would be rolling over in his grave. Father was a Londoner, born and breed. His father was the Earl of Grantham. Unfortunately, father was born the second son, and therefore didn’t inherit. But he was born with a superb mind for business and started a very renowned and successful line of hotels, the flagship being the Royal London Grantham Hotel in Kensington.
Quite a mouthful, I know.
My biggest fear is that I’ll never be able to fill my father’s shoes. He was absolutely driven. I’ve done my best to keep the ship righted, but carrying on as CEO of the Grantham Hotels hasn’t been easy. Thankfully we have a good team to rely on. My sister has been very involved, as has her husband, which has taken the weight off my shoulders greatly, and allowed for me to branch out with my passion project—this new line of boutique hotels with a more eclectic feel than the staid traditional British hotels our brand is famous for.
Hotel Blue is my baby.
And shocking my father’s right hand men, I chose the American capital of sin in which to debut it. I’m betting the bank that my instincts are right. I’ve secured all the major financing for this one on my own, and its success here in Las Vegas is paramount to the success of the entire endeavor.
I stare out over the Strip, bustling with activity as the sun slides behind the mountains in the distance. The view from my corner office on the fortieth floor is magnificent.
Behind me, my sister clears her throat, and I turn.
“Well?”
“Well what?” I reply.
“Have you met her yet?”
“Who?”
“Charlotte Justice of course. Don’t be obtuse, Lane.”
“I’m not being obtuse, Miranda. And no, I’ve not had the pleasure.”
“You haven’t introduced yourself yet? Seriously? Time is wasting. She’ll only be in town for a few weeks, and then you’ll have missed your chance.”
There’s a giant photo of our special act down in the lobby. I pass it every time I enter the building. Her run starts at the end of the month. The first two shows are sold out and the final one is almost as well.
It was Miranda’s idea to book Charlotte Justice, and give her free use of one of our prime suites, as well as space for rehearsing for her upcoming US tour. Publicity she claims will pay off. I trust Miranda’s judgment, but I’ve never heard of Charlotte Justice or her band. Not that I’m up on the latest music scene, I’m not. I stand behind my desk and stare down at the picture, shoving my hands in the pockets of my Savile Row suit.
The woman in the photo is drop dead gorgeous, though not my usual type. The kind of woman I’ve been dating of late, usually in Manhattan, are sophisticated working women or more usually social climbing society bitches looking to land a man with a home in the Hamptons, preferably with two-hundred feet of ocean frontage. Or a man with a royal lineage and a dukedom to go with it.
My family has the blue-blood pedigree, and billions. When our parents passed away in a very tragic private plane crash, my sister and I inherited everything, fifty-fifty. Though even splitting the bulk of it all, we’re still each worth billions. It’s insane how money can make people react to a person. They become completely different people when they find out my net worth.
I long for those I’ve known since childhood. Though they can be stuffy snobs, at least I understand them. American women on the other hand, are a whole different animal.
“Well?” Miranda draws me from my thoughts.
“I don’t need this now, sister. I’ve a great deal on my plate already.”
“Yes, you do. Especially now. You’ve been working ridiculous hours. The hotel is open and everything is going smashing. And with the added bonus of the publicity we bring in with having Charlotte Justice perform for our debut concert series, things can only get better. Soon you’ll be competing with all the big guns on the Strip.”
I shuffle through some papers, grunting a reply.
“Lane Grantham, are you ignoring me?”
“Trying my best.”
She folds her arms and huffs.
I glance up. “Why are you so set on playing matchmaker? And this woman of all people?” I lift my chin to the media photo on my desk.
“Because she’s different from those insipid women you’ve been dating. I saw several interviews of her when she was in London on her European tour. She’s a breath of fresh air. I think she’s perfect for you.”
“Really? And why’s that?”
“Just give it a try. For me?”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“A lifetime of happiness?”
“Or should I ask, what’s in it for you?”
“Perhaps some nieces and nephews and a sister-in-law I won’t actually hate.”
“You hated Celeste? That’s a strong word.”
“She was a bitch, and if you had married that woman, I would never have forgiven you.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Okay, here’s a deal even you can’t refuse. Go on three dates with this woman, and give it a chance, an honest real chance, and I’ll sell you something you’ve been pestering me for all year.”
That has my attention, and my hands still because I immediately know what she’s offering. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Three dates of my choosing. I’ll arrange them, you just get her to show up.”
“And?” I want her to say the words.
“And I’ll sell you Royal Faction.”
Even after the words leave her mouth, I’m not sure I believe her. “I thought you were training him for the Triple Crown.”
“I am.”
“And yet you’d sell him to me?”
“I want your happiness, brother, is that so hard to believe?”
“Something’s happened. Does he have a ligament injury? A fracture? You’re just trying to foist him off on me. Be honest.”
“I’m being honest. Your dream horse is perfectly healthy.”
I stare at the woman in the photo. “Three dates with this woman, that’s all it takes?”
“Yes. And you have to be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
She actually huffs at my answer. “You can be quite miserable, Lane. Half your staff is afraid of you.”
“They are not.”
She quirks a brow. “No? Ask Patsy.”
Patsy is a close family friend who has know the two of us since our school days. She’s the best personal assistant I’ve ever had. She actually worked for my father before he died. She’s the one person, other than Miranda, that I trust implicitly. She also doesn’t take any shit from me.
I press a button on my phone console. “Patsy, come in here please.”
A moment later the woman walks through the door.
Miranda doesn’t even wait for me to speak.
“Patsy, tell my brother how the staff is afraid of him.”
She smiles. “It’s true, I’m afraid. Absolutely terrified.”
“This is a joke, right? I mean, I know I can be demanding, and all right, gruff at times, but terrifying?”
“Yes, sir. It’s quite true, I’m sorry to say.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t bloody know. Thank you, that’s all.”
Patsy winks at Miranda and exits.
“What was that about?” I demand.
“What?”
“That wink? She winked at you.”
“Oh, Lane, don’t be paranoid. We’re not plotting against you.”
I drag in a long breath and slump back in my chair, running my hand over my chin. My staff is terrified of me, and my sister is playing matchmaker. Any other bombshells about to be dropped on me today?
“So, is it a deal?”
I meet her eyes. I’ve wanted Royal Faction since he was a foal. My sister stole him right out from under me at Keeneland's September yearling sale.
Royal Faction was one of the most coveted yearlings as an offspring with the blood of several former derby and triple crown winners in his blood. Perhaps I’d have a real shot at the Derby with him.
“Deal.”
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AUTHOR BIO
Nicole James is a USA Today and Wall Street Journal
bestselling author who loves writing about hot alpha men who'll do anything for
the women they love! Her stories are filled with struggle, conflict and real
human emotion. She is the author of the Evil Dead MC series, the Brothers Ink
Tattoo series and more.
Nicole loves to hear from her readers! You can contact her via e-mail, her website contact form or on her social media accounts.
Nicole loves to hear from her readers! You can contact her via e-mail, her website contact form or on her social media accounts.
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