A Song for Rosalie (CR)

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Tropes: rockstar, surprise baby, small town, fling, new beginnings

Characters: Able Jackson / Rosalie Barlow

Setting: Monroe, LA

Heat Level: Spicy



Like any respectable rock star, I already had my first stint in rehab under my belt to make me seem more tragic, and add depth to my music. 

My manager was sure the next record was going to be a hit. One problem. I had never written a song sober, let alone twelve. So…major problem. And my manager just happened to be in the business of solving problems, even if she was half the cause sometimes with the way she ran hot and cold on me. I thought we had something. Now, as more of an observer than a participant in the situation, I realize that the something was a business arrangement and her twisted way of inspiring me to make her more money. 

Still, because this was business first and foremost, she suggested I go someplace, get away. A change of scenery. Light on distractions. Heavy on the quiet. Even better if it was far from my usual haunts and more than a day trip from the dealers dying for my business again. 

That’s how I ended up in Monroe, Louisiana. That’s how I ended up staying at a B & B described as quaint and cozy in the listing. In real speak, it was small, dated, and out of the way. Good enough. I packed up, hopped on my bike and rode like the proverbial bat out of hell to get there. 

I’m not sure how long I planned to stay, but while some found lack of wi-fi a turnoff, I found much needed silence. Where some saw old and worn out, I saw character. And where some would think Rosalie was in over her head, I for once, wanted to be the rescuer. 

She was in over her head. She was also sweet, kind, funny, and real. There was not one fake thing about her…not nails, hair, or surgical enhancements. I had forgotten women could be like that. Her conversations were real too. I never knew I could be this honest with anyone. And though my therapist at rehab warned me I was prone to addictive behaviors, I didn’t think he meant Rosalie, until I finished pumping out fifteen songs with the same ease I breathed and left her behind. 

Like with my manager, I had to step away from the situation to figure it out. Was I in love for the first time in my life? Or was Rosalie just another addiction, albeit healthier than the rest? And how could we ever truly be together when our lives couldn’t be further apart?


I was a nurturer. Always had been, always would be. 

Barlow’s B & B had been started by my great grandmother during the second world war. So many men were coming and going with nowhere to stay while passing through, and there she was with this big house her husband had built for her before he left to fight for his country and never returned. This was her idea of doing her part, including planting a giant victory garden. And I’m sure she needed the money. She had a baby to feed. 

I came from a long line of strong women with a habit of loving heroes lost to war, until there was only me. I hadn’t married. I suppose it was fear of loss. I’d also never allowed myself to love. Safer that way. The curse would die with me. I figured I couldn’t be safer than staying home, fixing up the place that had housed us for generations. 

By now, it needed a fair amount of repair. And I had little money and no help. Undeterred, I rented out the rooms and stretched the dollars so thin you could see through them. That’s how I’d managed to get new siding a year ago. Windows the year before that. Room by room, I was remodeling the interior. 

Then Able showed up. I knew who he was, even though I didn’t fan over him. I lived in the sticks, but I still had a radio. And I charged him extra because with his reputation, I needed the insurance. When he asked me, I told him the truth. And I kept on telling him the truth because it seemed like he needed that from someone in his life. 

I never meant to fall for him, or for him to catch feelings for someone like me. I wasn’t glamorous in the least, but it turned out that’s one of the many things he liked about me. And I wasn’t about to drop my life to follow him around the globe. That’s one of the many things that caused him to pause. 

We had a kiss. We had a fling. And I knew that was all we could ever have together. When he left, I worked on that stiff upper lip my mother had taught me. Thanks to his money and his help, Able left the place better than he found it. And he left me worse in ways I never expected. 

I figured I just needed time to get over the man. Six weeks later, I found out it was the time under the man that was going to truly change me. The curse lived on. And unless Able came to his senses and decided he couldn’t live without me, I’d be another generation of single mom living in Barlow’s B & B.

Only $47!

Skip to content