Rocker: Part One - Victoria Foxxe - darmowy ebook

Candie Newton is a curvy beauty who has her life under control. She spends her nights as a singing bartender at the "Dirty Thirty", a rowdy rock-n-roll bar. The last thing she expects is for him to walk through her door. Nick Ortiz is one of the hottest men in Hollywood. Candi can't believe her eyes when he shows up at her bar. The dark-eyed star simply sizzles with the promise of adventure.Things become even wilder when he decides to pursue Candi. Unsure of what to do Soon Candi finds herself on a sexy emotional roller coaster ride. Will our curvy rock-n-roll bartender open her heart? Or will her insecurities keep her from choosing the love a lifetime?

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Rocker: Part One

Victoria Foxxe

Published by Knight Press Inc., 2017.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.


First edition. September 9, 2017.

Copyright © 2017 Victoria Foxxe.

Written by Victoria Foxxe.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page









The music was loud and the crowd rowdy. It was a typical night at The Dirty Thirty. I'd worked here a long time and loved it. The bar boasted spirited regulars, live bands, and a huge dance floor to shake your booty. The tips weren’t half bad either. The drunker people became, the more they tipped. This night started out just like any other. I was behind the bar serving drinks, and some jerk was bugging me.

"Can I get a Coors?" I smelled him before he spoke. Axe body spray, cigarettes, and beer breath are a pungent combo.  

"Bottle or Tap?" I slung my towel over a shoulder and took my bad-ass stance. That usually kept the guys in line.

"Tap.” His greedy leer made me nauseous. I needed to get rid of this guy, and fast.

I pulled the beer and gave him the glass. Without warning, he reached over the bar and touched me. "So, you busy later?"

I removed his greasy paw, "I don't date anyone from the bar. There are lots of girls here tonight. Ask one of them out."

"Oh come on, don’t be like that." He reached for me again.

I yanked away. "No, I'm not interested."

"You ought to be glad that I’m paying attention to you at all.”

I locked eyes with him. "I may be big darling, but I'm not desperate." Then I went back to fixing drinks. He mumbled something under his breath and walked away. Yeah, he was a real charmer. Because I'm a size eighteen guys assume I’m easy. They learn fast, nothings further from the truth. My name’s Candi Newton. I’m a twenty-five year old bartender from Oakland California.

People always tell me, “You have so much confidence!” It wasn’t always like that. One day I woke up and decided that I was somebody. From then on I never looked back. I wanted to get out there and live! I also discovered my love of singing. I was afraid to perform in front of people for a long time. Then one night I sang at “The Dirty” on a dare. It was the best decision ever. Before long, I was working at the bar and performing. Last year, the local newspaper even did an article on me titled, “Candi, The Rock 'n Roll Bartender.” My boss had it framed and placed on the wall.

"Hey girl!" my best-friend Jen shouted. Then she dashed behind the bar and gave me a big hug.  We’d known each other since highschool. When she came back to town, I got her a job here at The Dirty Thirty.

"So, are you going to sing tonight?" she asked me.

"If the crowd asks for it," I shook my hips.

"Honey, you know they will!" she snapped her fingers. That's what I like about Jen she was sassy. Tonight was “Band Camp.” That's when different performers got on stage doing their thing. I was a house favorite. I didn't have a band of my own, but I'd been known to join whoever was brave enough to play. "Come on Candi you gotta sing," Jen grabbed my wrist in a vain attempt to pull me from behind the bar.  I was about twice her weight. There was no way I was going anywhere I didn't want to.

"Get your ass up there!" Frank gestured from his seat at the end of the bar. My boss, Frank Nelson, was a big guy and few people argued with him. In reality he was a pussycat, but I liked to pretend that he scared me.

"Yes sir," I gave him a mock-salute. Jen pulled me towards the stage and I hopped onto it. There was a band of nervous kids up there. Their faces brightened when I walked up. I grabbed the mic and did my thing.

"Welcome to The Dirty Thirty!" I screamed. When the crowd recognized me they went berserk. Then someone started a chant of: Sing, Sing, Sing. Soon the entire bar joined in.

"Alright I'll do it." I loved nights like this. The crowd was raring to go. Jen's voice piped up loud above the din, “Hit Me with Your Best Shot!" Not to brag but that’s my signature song. A little Pat Benatar should start the night off right.

"Are you guys sure you want to hear that?" I asked. They screamed a loud encouragement.

"Alright then, you twisted ­my arm," Then I told the kid holding the bass, "Dude, I sure hope you know this tune. Because if you don't this gang will eat you alive!"

The scrawny kid gripped his instrument, "We were kinda hoping to play some original stuff."

"Trust me," I pointed at him with the microphone. "If you don't play it, you're not going to get to play anything else."

"Don't worry we know about this place," a strange confidence emerged on his face. "We made sure we learned some of the oldies.”

Oldies? These kids today had no respect for the classics. I screamed, “Hit it" and to my surprise this inexperienced band didn't miss a beat. The intro and key were perfect. I sang the hell of that song like I always do. At heart I'm a rocker girl, always have been always will be. I sensed the crowd loved it and I hammed it up to please them. I know I’m bigger than average. But at size eighteen, I shook my ass like we were having an earthquake. When we finished the crowd went absolutely nuts. I stepped off the stage and went back behind the bar. On the way, I'm quite sure more than one guy copped a feel of my ample backside.

As I poured drinks, a deep masculine voice spoke. "You're a fantastic singer, Candi.” An Adonis swaggered up to the bar. He was over six feet, with dark hair, and the most striking blue eyes. He wore a sleeveless shirt and fashionably ripped jeans. His exposed arms were well muscled and tanned. Holy mother, his pants hugged him tight enough to see his religion. I spotted a dragon tattoo on his upper shoulder. Sex and trouble radiated from his eyes.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," I rested my arms on the counter.

"This place is fun," he replied. "It's been a while since I've been in Oakland."