Hendrix
Caldwell Brothers #1
Caldwell Brothers #1
By: Chelsea Camaron & M.J. Fields
Loveswept
Perfect
for fans of J. S. Scott and Emma Chase, Hendrix introduces the wild and sexy
Caldwell boys—three brothers who are living up to their legendary names in
Detroit Rock City.
Hendrix
Caldwell wants nothing more than to revitalize the family bar—and tear down
every last reminder of his no-good father. But business isn’t the only thing on
his mind. An explosive encounter with a stranger at a charity masquerade is
just the distraction he craves, with no names and no strings attached. For
Hendrix, sex is casual, and love is a four-letter word. His commitment is to
his brothers, his bar, and his bike. So why can’t he stop thinking about the naughty
Cinderella who rocked his world, then left him—and her panties—behind?
Olivia Hemmingway knows fairytales are for little girls. Drowning in debt and
hiding a shameful secret, she won’t be saved by a knight in tattooed armor, no
matter how mind-blowing their one-night stand may have been. Olivia never
expects to meet her masked lover again. But when she takes a job at Hendrix
Caldwell’s bar, her sexy new boss seems all too familiar. And once the lights
go out and the music is turned up, the sparks between them burn hotter than
ever.
My mind was blown after reading Hendrix!
My one warning is keeping your Kleenex handy, you will need it. Hendrix Caldwell and
brothers has had an awful childhood. His father was physically abusive to them all,
but their mother protected them until they
were old enough to fight back. Then after their mother dies from cancer,
Hendrix and his brothers Morrison and Jagger kick their father from their lives
and set about turning their family dive bar into a biker bar.
Olivia (Livi) had a rough childhood,
split up two parents. She spent school time with her mother and the summers with her dad.
Until something horrific changes her for good, Livi changes into a different person,
when vows to always be in control and to never allow anything to be taken from
her without consent again. Now as she leaves college a fledgling social worker,
not even able to keep the utilities of, in her slum apartment.
So she was forced to get another job and that is when she spotted a job of a bar tender at the
new bar Caldwell's Dive.
But I honestly don't think either Livi or Hendrix expected to have the sparks fly
between them. But
it all comes to a head when someone from the past comes back to
haunt Livi; Hendrix is there to protect Livi and helps her through the trauma
of her past.
When I say this book blew my mind! It truly did! I have honestly never read
a book like
this and now I need to read the rest of the
Series…like right now! I love the Caldwell Brothers, their characters are
simply divine! Honestly they are perfect! Even with Jagger and Morrison's womanizing,
I honestly can't wait for their stories.
The writing is amazing, I found no plot holes and the story is smooth and quite honestly it is so very moreish! With
all that being said, I can only give Hendrix one score! 10 out of 10!
When you think of Motor
City, you think of poverty, but what Detroit lacks in class and elegance, we
make up for in dive bars. You got the 2-Way Inn on Mt. Elliott, Nancy Whiskey
on Harrison, Old Miami on Cass, Greenwich Time in Cadillac Square, Kwicky on 8
Mile, Marshall’s on Jefferson, Jumbo’s on 3rd, the Painted Lady up in
Hamtramck, My Dad’s Place on Kercheval, and Caldwell’s on Atwater.
You know the kind of
places I’m talking about—windowless joints
on the corner with the High Life sign blinking because
you know the sign is as old as the paint-chipped building it hangs off. The
blinking sign beckons you. You have to go inside to see what the hell is going
on ’cause you can’t see in the windows, and it sounds like you may be missing
something if you don’t.
They are boarded up tight,
because they got busted out two nights ago when the place got robbed by the
fucking thugs who walk up and down the streets, selling candy one minute and
panhandling two hours later. The pieces of shit are inventive—I’ll give them
that—but my suggestion is get a fucking job, slob.
Back in the day, when the
auto factories dominated the area, things didn’t look so broken down. It was
alive and kicking. The area was still peppered with bars. Bar owners were
making mad cash, too.
At the end of every
street, there was a joint that served ice-cold High Life on tap and two-dollar
shots. There was entertainment and fun to be had everywhere. You could always
get a decent, quick meal on your lunch break, a live show at night; and the
bartenders made you feel like you belonged, like you were family.
My pops won the title to
Hooligans at a dogfight. With it being a great location in the Rivertown
district near Chene Park, he truly got a prize that time. He was instantly
banking money and banging women. That’s when he met Mom.
She sang, played guitar,
and had a decent following as a one-woman show. He was thirty, and she was
twenty-two. She sang at his bar every Wednesday night and eventually tended bar
three nights a week. Like many of his barmaids, she fell for his bullshit, and
that ended up with her pregnant with me in less than two months from the time
they met.
He moved her into his
apartment above the bar and embraced becoming a father. He wanted to do it
better than his old man had. Isn’t that the truth in life, just do it better?
Don’t we all strive for that?
Eventually, the novelty wore
off. He started fucking around on her. When she confronted him, he beat her
down emotionally. She busted her ass keeping the bar clean, and he busted his
ass drinking the profit. Two more boys later, and she was busting her ass to
raise their three kids on top of keeping his business afloat.
When the economy in
Detroit deteriorated, he lost what was left of his mind. He started coming
after us for stupid shit like spilled milk, a LEGO on the floor, you name it.
Hell, the wind blowing in the wrong direction had him on us.
Mom started stepping in
with, “Boys, go to your room.”
Sure, we did as we were
told, but we heard the shit. We heard him hitting her. It was no better than
seeing it, either. We were helpless as the sounds of each blow became
increasingly deafening to our tiny ears. Funny how, in the moment, adrenaline
kicks in and instincts go into overdrive. Every noise becomes louder, clearer,
and sticks with you longer. I can still hear that shit in my sleep.
As I grew older and stood
taller than him, I began to step in. He and I would go at it, fist to fist,
until one of us wasn’t moving. At first, it was me. Then, when I was seventeen,
it was finally him. Fucker knew it, too.
I begged Mom to move out,
but she refused to leave her home and family. She made excuses for him, said
that was how he was raised.
He stopped coming at us
when I busted his nose. I hated the bastard, and when Morrison was big enough,
I moved the fuck out. Still saw Mom every day, though. I couldn’t go a day
without seeing her or my brothers. I needed to make sure they were okay, but I
also knew, if I stayed, I would kill him and be in the state pen within a year.
He lost Hooligans because
the fucking asshole bet against the wrong underground fighter. Who was the
fighter he bet against? My brother, his own son. Who did he lose it to? Me.
Fucker didn’t even know it was me until a week later, either.
I let him stay in the
apartment above the bar, not for him, but for Mom.
I had been working for a
contractor, fixing up old warehouses and making them into apartments for years.
Even made enough to buy my own place.
I fixed up the second and
third floors, making them livable. Wide-open space, two bedrooms, two baths on
the second floor, the third is my loft. The first floor is a badass garage. It
is where I spend the rest of my money—on my
tools, my toys, and my rides.
I roll over to find my pit
bull, Floyd, is hogging the bed as usual. She—yes,
Floyd is a she—is an obvious bed hog.
When I found her, she had
on a pink, spiked collar that was digging into her neck. I squatted down and
peeled it off the poor girl, and she let me. Then, she took off, and I followed
her to an abandoned warehouse, walking into a fucking scene that makes my
stomach churn to this day. Fucking dogfights.
My dad loves those
godforsaken fights, while I despise them.
I called a cop friend I
knew from high school while in an outside alley and then waited. When the
fuckers running the circuit were taken in, along with the spectators, I watched
the SPCA take the dogs. Floyd looked at me, I looked at her, and I knew she was
mine.
“Floyd, seriously, bitch”—I laugh as she licks my face—“get down.”
USA Today bestselling
author Chelsea Camaron grew up turning wrenches alongside her
father, which just so happened to inspire her Love and Repair and The Hellions
Ride series. When she’s not writing, you can find her playing with her kids,
attending car shows, going on motorcycle rides on the back of her husband’s
Harley, snuggling down with her new favorite book, or watching any movie that
Vin Diesel might happen to be in. She lives in Louisiana with her husband and
two children.
MJ Fields is the USA Today
bestselling author of the Love series, the Wrapped series, the Burning Souls
series, the Men of Steel series, and the Norfolk series. A former
small-business owner who recently became a full-time writer, Fields lives in
central New York, surrounded by family and friends. Her house is full of pets,
friends, and noise ninety percent of the time, and she wouldn’t have it any
other way.
Want more Caldwell Brothers?
Pre-Order Book Two: MORRISON
Releasing Dec 1st, 2015
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