A Song for Us

Praise for Teresa Mummert’s
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling series

WHITE TRASH Damaged

“Continues the sweet and poignant love story between Cass and Tucker. The new struggle feels realistic as Cass tries to adapt to life on the road with her rock-star boyfriend. . . . Fans will be thoroughly pleased with the epilogue.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“An emotional story that tugged on my heart strings. The story flowed seamlessly and beautifully from each page.”

—
A Bookish Escape

“I devoured it cover to cover!”

—
SMI BookClub

WHITE TRASH Beautiful

“A fresh take on the Cinderella fairy tale. . . . Fans of the rock star genre will want to give this one a go, as this Prince Charming is a hot, tattooed musician. . . . Readers will meander
through the dark and dangerous tunnel of Cass’s life and, subsequently, cheer her on when she comes out the other side.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“An incredibly moving story . . . I felt like I was right there with Cass. You feel all her emotions to the point where you’re connecting with her so much, you feel like you are her. [Mummert’s] best book to date!”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Molly McAdams

“Enthralling . . . I felt a strong pull to Cass from the first line in the book . . . an emotional roller coaster that I never wanted to get off of. I couldn’t put this book down.”

—Amanda Bennett, author of
Time to Let Go

“I loved it! . . . This story is filled with heartache and hope. Heartache for circumstance and life in general, but hope for a future.”

—
Romantic Reading Escapes

“It took exactly a few pages to realize I had no hope of pulling away. . . . I listened to my heart and devoured this novel.”

—
RebeccaBerto.com

“I loved this book. . . . Mummert put a lot of depth and soul into her characters.”

—
Contagious Reads

“I was HOOKED on this book.
White Trash Beautiful
is a gripping, emotional, and surprising tale.”

—
My Book Addiction

“Dark, edgy, emotional . . . I didn’t want it to end!”

—
Belle’s Book Bag

“An emotional story full of hope, love, fear, and despair. . . . The romance was sweet and earnest. . . . I was burning through the pages. . . . Teresa Mummert is a wonderful writer.”

—
Fictional Candy

“
White Trash Beautiful
is the first book I have read by Teresa Mummert, but it is definitely not my last! I loved every minute of it even though parts of it broke my heart. . . . Just writing this review makes me want to read the book again.”

—
Smardy Pants Book Blog

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Thank you to all of the readers who took Cass and Tucker’s journey with me. A special thanks to my husband and children. You’ve spent many hours without me in order for me to follow my dreams. I wouldn’t have written a word if not for your encouragement and support.

I
DIDN’T DESERVE TO be here but would gladly do it all over again.

I squeezed the dark bars in front of me until my knuckles turned white and my palms threatened to bleed, layers of paint chipping and sticking to my damp palms. The minutes felt like hours and my skin began to crawl with the waiting. I wasn’t a bad person and sure as shit wasn’t cut out to be locked in this shit hole. I’ve always heard that before you seek revenge you should dig two graves. This was mine. A place where I was locked away with my own thoughts that threatened to drive me insane. A place where I was forced to watch life pass me by and all I had were memories to cling to.

The walls were a deep gray that matched the floor. The only furniture
was a metal bed attached to the wall and a toilet. Everything felt dirty and layered in grime. It was sickening.

Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. I should have been able to control my rage, but a man can only take so much.

ERIC

Five Days Earlier

I
’
M NOT WEARING
a fucking tie, Tuck,” I growled as I tried to knot the silky fabric around my neck. I yanked it off and tossed it to the ground in frustration.

“You just need to learn how to tie it, Eric.” Cass smiled as she patted me on the shoulder. “You would look good all dressed up.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up the light blue scrap of fabric from the ground, determined to figure out how to wear it. Tucker laughed and shook his head. I owed it to Cass to try to be on my best behavior. She went through hell to plan this wedding around our schedule, and I wouldn’t screw that up for her. We stayed in Southern California after our last gig, and she went to work ironing out the details with only two weeks until we go back to work. Each of us had his own job
to do. I chose the church. It was small but sort of quaint, and the pastor talked my ear off for an hour about young love. I knew he wouldn’t judge their decision to marry young.

“How come you listen to her and not me?”

“Because Cass is prettier than you,” I joked, and Tucker rolled his eyes. “Seriously, why can’t we just dress the way we always do? You want to start off your marriage with a lie?”

Cass’s hand connected with the back of my head.

“Oww!” I yelled, then rubbed the tender spot. I knew she was stressed out about the ceremony, and it was too hard to resist messing with her. She had been trying her hardest to get Dorris to attend, but her health was failing and Cass finally gave up two days ago. I held out hope some of our friends would show, but it had been months since I’d talked to Sarah and I assumed Filth was touring and didn’t have the time.

“You’re not going to dress as a homeless rock star at my wedding,” Cass called over her shoulder as she made her way to the hotel bathroom.

“I am a homeless rock star.”

“Semantics,” she called out with a laugh.

I was happy to be a rolling stone. Cass and Tuck had been talking about getting a home of their own, and the idea made me cringe. I didn’t want things to change. I ran my hand through my hair and pushed out a sigh. Maybe the shots of Jack before lunch were a mistake. Drinking never took away my problems, but ever since our tour ended
and Sarah—the girl who had gradually become my rock—was long gone, I didn’t want to cope with reality.

It was easier to find peace at the bottom of a bottle.

“You all right?” Tucker asked, leaning in toward me and lowering his voice. His hand clamped on my shoulder. I knocked it away and took a step back from him.

“I’m fine.”

The truth was, I was far from okay. I just didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to play another gig and get lost in the music.

I glanced up at Donna, our manager. Her dark, wavy hair was pinned back, but loose curls spilled down the back of her neck. I wanted to wrap my fingers in it. I shook the thought from my head and made my way to the kitchen area of our hotel suite. Donna had been loosening up around all of us a lot more lately—it was a refreshing change from the all-business bitch who first showed up to whip our band into shape during our tour. Sometimes we’d even flirt a little. And in the months since Sarah left, Donna and I had actually grown closer as friends. Plus, she was hot when she let herself kick back and have fun.

But I couldn’t let my mind go there, especially not today . . .

Maybe the problem wasn’t that I had drank; maybe I just didn’t drink enough. I poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass and quickly drank it down, letting it burn my throat.

I sat the plastic cup on the counter and wiped a drop of liquor from my chin as Cass came to my side.

“I could use a few of those myself,” she said quietly as she leaned her back against the faux-granite countertop.

I stared at the cabinets in front of me as I clenched my jaw. I knew Cass could tell I was upset. She had become like a little sister to me, and as much as I loved her, at times I wished we could escape each other. I hated how transparent I was to her, and she never let shit go.

“Have you talked to her?” I asked after a pregnant pause. Even thinking about her made my head start to ache, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I had one of my headaches.

Cass nodded, swallowing audibly.

“She doin’ okay?”

“She . . . she said she is happy.”

I could hear the pain in her voice and I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the look of pity on her face. It wasn’t long ago I had judged Cass and Tucker, afraid of their ripping apart our band with their relationship. But now here I was, sad and sulking over someone I had no right to miss, not even wanting to think about how lost I’d be without Cass’s and Tuck’s support.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when a hand slid over my spine. Even though I’d been doing my best to avoid Donna’s most deliberate advances knowing it would only end badly for all of us, suddenly the idea of having someone touch me, distract me from my pain, even for a few hours, was all I wanted. And I wanted it more than anything else. I watched Tucker and the twins from the small kitchen area, trying not to meet her gaze. I didn’t mind sometimes blurring the lines a little, but today was different. Today I was
forced to watch others move on in their lives, build a future, and I was still lost and alone.

“You mind sharing?” Donna cocked an eyebrow at Cass, and I knew she wasn’t talking about the alcohol. I rolled my eyes and Cass gave me a sympathetic smile.

“I need to go fix my hair. I’ll talk to you later.” Cass tucked a dirty-blond curl behind her ear and headed off to the bathroom of the hotel room. It was cramped with all of us in one room getting ready, but it was downtown and had a great view of the city. Donna insisted on letting us live a few days in luxury, even if she couldn’t land us all rooms with personal hot tubs. We each had our own room, but after the wedding Cass and Tuck would be across town to get some privacy.

I slowly turned to look at Donna, who was wearing a low-cut, navy-blue dress that stopped midthigh and left little to the imagination. She smirked knowingly as my eyes finally landed on hers.

I poured her a shot into my glass and slid it across the dark faux-granite counter to her. She picked it up and raised it over her head to me before throwing it back. She scrunched her nose at the harshness of the liquor as she slammed the cup on the counter.

“Good shit, huh?” I laughed as she nodded, unable to speak. “Not much of a drinker?”

“Not yet. Pour me another.”

“What’s up with you today? Not a fan of weddings either?”

She shook her head, and her gaze dropped to the bottle. I nodded and poured her another shot, giving her a little extra this time. I slid the glass over to her again and she took it, her fingers sliding over mine.
The electricity between us was undeniable today and I tensed, hating my attraction to her. She wasn’t my type. She wasn’t anyone’s type. She was closed off and angry at the world. She used her work as an escape from living her life and enjoying herself. I also knew that any attraction she felt toward me was purely physical. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, except that she was our manager. I had to keep reminding myself of that.