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Pandemic Sorrow series by Stevie J. Cole (#1-2)
Requirements: ePUB Reader | 453 kb / 333 kb
Overview: I have been a fallen angel, a vampire, a confused twenty-something year old struggling through a crappy job, a jealous and deranged x-lover of a damned soul, and currently I'm an internationally sought after rock star with a slight addiction problem. All thanks to the characters I have written.
Genre: Romance
Jag (#1): My name's Jag Steele. I’m the lead singer and guitarist to the band Pandemic Sorrow and I have a drug problem—well, I mean it's not really a problem—unless you count the fact that I almost made my heart explode from all the blow I shoved up my nose a few weeks back... That was my introduction during my first stint in rehab. I'm a f*ck-up. If you ask anybody who I am there’s a list they will go down: Famous, rock star, legend, drug addict, womanizing man-whore… but if you asked me, I wouldn’t have the first idea of what to say, because I don’t know who Jag Steele is. Really, I’m living every other damn person's dream, and all I want is reality. Roxy Slade, that girl was my reality. My brutally flawed and beautifully broken reality. And she f*cking hated everything I stood for. To her I was just one of those guys, and she’d rather be buried alive with poisonous snakes than give someone like me a piece of toilet paper to wipe their ass with. Brutal. Life. Is. Brutal. And it is just a giant pain in the ass, which is why I chase after anything to make it numb, anything that can fill this void. I just want anything that can make me not feel.
Rush (#2): It’s my job to play music, to make girls wet, and then to screw a select few of them. I’m a professional rocker. I’m rich, I’m famous, I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I have everything, except control. The industry owns me. And the only thing I have a minuscule grain of control with is women, but not that dominate, tie you up and gag you kind of control. No, I want to govern how I make them feel. I need them to feel like a goddess while I’m in them, and I love being able to control the fact that they’ll never really have me. Love is complicated. It is bullshit. And even if I thought I needed it, the rules of being a rocker won’t allow it. Sex is all I need. I don’t need love. But for some reason I want her. For some reason I can’t get her out of my mind. And lately, every time I’m with any girl besides her it feels wrong. I can practically have any woman I want, but I can’t have her. She’s off limits because she’s part of that industry that owns my ass. Sex was all I had. And sometimes I thought maybe love was all I needed…with her.
Download Instructions:
Jag: https://www.tusfiles.com/cemsopjskyuo
http://www.solidfiles.com/d/5ae34ae5c9
(Closed Filehost) https://hugefiles.net/787dpkgkdev0
Rush: https://www.tusfiles.com/e8d7b3w5krk6
(Closed Filehost) https://hugefiles.net/pb74hlfaegsn
Requirements: ePUB Reader | 453 kb / 333 kb
Overview: I have been a fallen angel, a vampire, a confused twenty-something year old struggling through a crappy job, a jealous and deranged x-lover of a damned soul, and currently I'm an internationally sought after rock star with a slight addiction problem. All thanks to the characters I have written.
Genre: Romance
Jag (#1): My name's Jag Steele. I’m the lead singer and guitarist to the band Pandemic Sorrow and I have a drug problem—well, I mean it's not really a problem—unless you count the fact that I almost made my heart explode from all the blow I shoved up my nose a few weeks back... That was my introduction during my first stint in rehab. I'm a f*ck-up. If you ask anybody who I am there’s a list they will go down: Famous, rock star, legend, drug addict, womanizing man-whore… but if you asked me, I wouldn’t have the first idea of what to say, because I don’t know who Jag Steele is. Really, I’m living every other damn person's dream, and all I want is reality. Roxy Slade, that girl was my reality. My brutally flawed and beautifully broken reality. And she f*cking hated everything I stood for. To her I was just one of those guys, and she’d rather be buried alive with poisonous snakes than give someone like me a piece of toilet paper to wipe their ass with. Brutal. Life. Is. Brutal. And it is just a giant pain in the ass, which is why I chase after anything to make it numb, anything that can fill this void. I just want anything that can make me not feel.
Rush (#2): It’s my job to play music, to make girls wet, and then to screw a select few of them. I’m a professional rocker. I’m rich, I’m famous, I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I have everything, except control. The industry owns me. And the only thing I have a minuscule grain of control with is women, but not that dominate, tie you up and gag you kind of control. No, I want to govern how I make them feel. I need them to feel like a goddess while I’m in them, and I love being able to control the fact that they’ll never really have me. Love is complicated. It is bullshit. And even if I thought I needed it, the rules of being a rocker won’t allow it. Sex is all I need. I don’t need love. But for some reason I want her. For some reason I can’t get her out of my mind. And lately, every time I’m with any girl besides her it feels wrong. I can practically have any woman I want, but I can’t have her. She’s off limits because she’s part of that industry that owns my ass. Sex was all I had. And sometimes I thought maybe love was all I needed…with her.
Download Instructions:
Jag: https://www.tusfiles.com/cemsopjskyuo
http://www.solidfiles.com/d/5ae34ae5c9
(Closed Filehost) https://hugefiles.net/787dpkgkdev0
Rush: https://www.tusfiles.com/e8d7b3w5krk6
(Closed Filehost) https://hugefiles.net/pb74hlfaegsn
