Wreck: Hawke

Book 4 in the Rockstar Series

ISBN: 978-1517695668

304 Pages/76,531 words

Published October 25, 2015

Hawke Evans is the drummer for the Grammy winning Sphere of Irony. The quiet, tattooed and pierced hottie behind a pair of geek chic glasses is hiding a seriously troubled adrenaline junkie with a death wish.

Abby Kessler is studying psychology at UCLA. Her desire to help those fighting mental illness stems from a life-changing incident in her past.

When Abby meets Hawke backstage at a local club, she’s instantly attracted to his bad boy good looks. But when she discovers the damaged man beneath the beautiful exterior, she’s compelled to make up for past mistakes.

How long will it take for Hawke to realize his reckless behavior isn’t only endangering him, but the hearts of those around him?

How long will it take for Abby to see that she can’t help someone who has no desire to be fixed?


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Dear Heather C. Leigh, I LOVE YOUR WRITING! I just have one complaint, your books are so awesome, when I get to the end I find myself always needing more!


5 stars!! Hawke is so amazingly hot, and well him being a drummer in the band, doesn’t hurt him either!! Great writing and the book was so much fun to read!



“Evans! Did you hear a single word I said?” Gavin’s voice plus the sharp elbow he jabs in my side tears my mind away from my wandering thoughts and my eyes from Abby’s ass.

“What?” I turn to face Gavin, who is glaring at me.

“We were talking about what Ross said earlier. Maybe booking some gigs in other cities.”

“Oh. Sure, whatever you guys decide is fine with me.” Like I ever have anything to add to the business end of conversations. I pick up my drink and take a long swig, my eyes finding their way back over to Abby. When I catch sight of her, my hand falters, and I nearly mimic Adam by spilling my beer everywhere.

Abby isn’t where I last saw her. Now she’s over by the bar, chatting with some asshole, preppy, frat-boy type who keeps finding excuses to touch her arm, her hand, her waist. Inexplicably aggravated, I slam my glass onto the table and dig my fingers into my jeans.


The word echoes loud and clear in my mind, causing me to grip my glass so tight my knuckles hurt. What the fuck? Since when do I give a shit what girls do and who they do it with?

I’m too far away and it’s too loud to hear Abby laugh, but I’m riveted as she reveals two rows of perfect white teeth. Her tousled blonde hair spills around her stunning face, causing a few pieces to stick to her full lips. She casually swipes them away with a brush of her fingers. When preppy douchebag raises his hand and tucks some of Abby’s hair behind her ear, I nearly lose it.