Morgana Bevan's Blog

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I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to hit pause. It happened slowly through deadline after deadline, late nights, and the quiet dread of opening a blank document.

For a while, I told myself I was just tired. That if I got through this book, or that edit, or that one more launch, I’d be fine. That I could rest after. But “after” never came. And eventually, I stopped feeling stressed at all... which, if you’ve ever been truly burned out, you know is the red flag that means you’ve gone too far.

So I’m doing something that doesn’t come naturally to me: I’m stopping.

I’ve cancelled Rockstar Crush and Craving Leah. I don’t know when I’ll release another book under this name. I’m not setting timelines or making promises. I need a break from publishing, from pressure, and from pretending I can keep running on empty.

This doesn’t mean I’m done. I’m just being honest with myself and with you. I want to come back to writing with joy. But to get there, I have to step away from the expectations and let myself breathe for a while.

If you’ve supported me, shared my work, bought a book, or just quietly followed along, thank you. Truly. That support has carried me further than you know.

And if you're reading this while facing your own burnout, please know: you don’t have to earn rest. You’re allowed to stop before the crash. You’re allowed to step back.

— Morgana x

Some couples make sense. Others make headlines.

Musicians and love stories have always gone hand in hand. The passion. The heartbreak. The inevitable comeback tour. Some of the biggest names in music have lived out their own second-chance romances—messy, dramatic, and impossible to look away from.

In Rockstar Regret, Cerys Evans and Nick Davies know all about unfinished business. Best friends growing up, they had an unspoken connection until grief, fame, and bad decisions tore them apart. Now, years later, Nick is back, and thanks to some strategic meddling from his dead best friend’s mother, he and Cerys are trapped in a farmhouse full of memories by a flash flood. Old wounds reopen, sparks fly, and suddenly, they're right back where they started—only this time, they might not walk away.

Sound familiar? Here are some real-life rockstars who, like Nick and Cerys, couldn’t quite quit each other.

1. Stevie Nicks & Lindsey Buckingham – Fleetwood Mac’s Ultimate Will-They-Won’t-They

No list of musicians who should’ve been a romance novel would be complete without these two. Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham started out as a couple in the late ‘60s, joined Fleetwood Mac together in 1974, and spent the next few decades breaking up, making up (musically, at least), and writing some of the most iconic breakup songs in history.

They fuelled Fleetwood Mac’s greatest album, Rumours, with their off-stage drama. “Go Your Own Way”? Written by Lindsey about Stevie. “Dreams”? Stevie’s answer to Lindsey. They went through every messy stage of love — devotion, heartbreak, anger, lingering feelings — and somehow always ended up circling back, whether it was on stage or in the studio.

Much like Cerys and Nick, Stevie and Lindsey had a connection they couldn’t erase, no matter how much time passed. Though unlike Rockstar Regret, their story didn’t end with a happily ever after — just decades of unresolved tension and a million-dollar music legacy.

2. Pink & Carey Hart – The Breakup That Didn’t Stick

Pink and motocross racer Carey Hart met at the 2001 Summer X Games. They dated on and off for a couple of years before splitting in 2003. But by 2004, they were back together, and in 2005, Pink proposed to Hart during one of his races with a pit board that read, “Will you marry me?”

They got married in 2006, but the second-chance arc wasn’t done. By 2008, they had split again, only to work through their issues and reconcile. Since then, they’ve built a solid family and relationship, proving that sometimes love just needs a reset before it gets things right.

3. Justin Timberlake & Jessica Biel – Breaking Up Before the Glow-Up

Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel started dating in 2007 and were together for four years before splitting in 2011. At the time, Timberlake told Vanity fair that "She is the single-handedly most significant person in my life. In my 30 years, she is the most special person." (Which, let’s be real, is an ex who isn’t really done.)

Sure enough, a few months later, they reconciled, got engaged by the end of the year, and married in 2012. Sometimes a breakup isn’t the end. It’s just a pause.

4. Pamela Anderson & Tommy Lee – The Ultimate Impulsive Marriage

What happens when a rockstar and a bombshell fall hard and fast? Chaos, scandal, and an unforgettable romance.

Pamela Anderson and Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee had one of the most infamous rockstar relationships of all time. They met in December 1994 and got married just four days later. (Yes, four days!) Their impulsive wedding on a beach in Mexico set the tone for a whirlwind relationship full of passion, drama, and very public ups and downs.

They divorced in 1998 but remained tied to each other for years. They co-parented, reconciled multiple times, and Tommy even claimed in 2008 that they were giving things another shot. While their love story didn’t end with forever, they defined the "I can't quit you" energy of rockstar romances.

So What’s the Lesson Here?

Some love stories crash and burn. Some take a detour before finding their way back. Some involve way too many breakup songs, public drama, and strategically placed snowstorms.

Nick and Cerys? Their story isn’t over yet.

Find out how their second chance plays out in Rockstar Regret — a steamy, short rockstar romance packed with history, heartbreak, and a whole lot of unresolved feelings. Out February 20th.

Some people think love should happen naturally. I think those people have never met a stubborn fool who can’t see what’s right in front of them.

Love doesn’t always arrive wrapped in a neat little bow.

Sometimes, it needs a push. A nudge. A full-blown strategy if necessary.

And if you think that sounds manipulative, you clearly haven’t lived in a small town, where everyone knows your business and half of them are personally invested in your love life.

Take Nick and Cerys, for example.

Nick was my son’s best friend. Cerys was my son’s girlfriend. The three of them were inseparable — until Gareth died, and everything fell apart.

Nick ran. Cerys stayed. They both pretended like the past didn’t matter, like they weren’t walking around half-empty without each other. And when Nick finally came back to town? He was ready to keep dodging her forever.

Not on my watch.

If you, too, have two people in your life who are meant to be together but too thick-headed to admit it, allow me to share some proven techniques for fixing the mess they’ve made.

1. Control the Setting (Or: Make Escape Impossible)

If left to their own devices, people will run from their feelings. Best friends turned lovers? Exes who still have unresolved tension? They’d rather flee than face it. That’s where you come in.

The trick is to choose the right setting — one that encourages talking, forces them into proximity, and, if you’re lucky, has a bit of nostalgia attached.

A small family gathering? Works every time. They can’t make a scene in front of Mam.A “surprise” dinner? Excellent for polite, forced conversation.A storm that develops into a flash flood and traps them together? Unbeatable. (Fine, I can’t control the weather, but if I could, I would.)

Make it easy for them to accidentally reconnect and impossible for them to leave without at least a conversation.

2. Guilt Is a Powerful Tool (Use It Wisely)

Listen, I’m not saying you should emotionally manipulate people into falling in love. What I am saying is that sometimes, people need a reminder of what they’re about to lose.

Nick spent eight years avoiding Cerys. And what did it get him? Nothing but regret. So when he showed up for lunch, looking at her like she was still the best thing in his world, I made sure to press on the bruise a little.

A well-timed “Gareth would have wanted this” or a pointed sigh about how they used to be so close? Just enough to make them think. To make them hesitate before running away again.

And hesitation is all you need. Doubt their stubbornness, and they’ll start seeing what’s in front of them.

3. Keep Their Hands Busy, So Their Mouths Start Working

If you sit two emotionally constipated people at a table and expect them to suddenly open up, you’ll be waiting until you’re in the grave.

Give them something to do.

Cooking together? Perfect.Fixing something? Works like a charm.Taking care of an animal? Unbeatable.

People talk when they’re distracted. They let their guard down when they think they’re focused on something else. Before they know it, they’re arguing, teasing, or remembering why they used to love each other.

And once that door opens, it’s much harder to slam shut again.

4. Public Pressure Can Be… Useful

Is it a little cruel to get the whole town involved? Maybe. But do you want results or not?

In a small town, people love a love story. And if you casually plant a few ideas, they’ll run with it.

“I always thought they’d end up together.”“You two make such a great couple.”“Look at them, like an old married pair.”

The key is repetition. The more they hear it, the harder it is to ignore.

Because no matter how much people protest, they hate being the last ones to figure things out.

5. Let Them Think It Was Their Idea

This is the most important step. If they know they’ve been set up, they’ll dig their heels in out of sheer spite. So, you have to make it seem like fate.

Let them run into each other “by chance.”Act surprised when they finally get together.Look completely innocent when someone accuses you of meddling.

Then sit back, pour yourself a cup of tea, and enjoy your victory.

The Final Step: Let Them Think They Won

They’ll fight you. They’ll swear they’re over each other. They’ll roll their eyes and complain about your meddling.

Ignore them.

Because once they’re finally together, once they realise you were right all along, they’ll still never admit it.

And you know what? That’s fine. Because they’ll be happy.

And at the end of the day, that’s what really matters.

Even if you are the one who made it happen.

Speaking of Stubborn People Who Needed a Push…

Cerys Evans and Nick Davies took far too long to figure things out, but you can watch it all unfold in Rockstar Regret.

A rockstar. A cheesemaker. A flood. And one very determined mother figure.

Rockstar Regret releases February 20th. Pre-order now and watch these two fools finally, finally get it right.

A Takeover from Cerys Evans

Let’s get one thing straight: I did not ask for this. One minute, I was elbow-deep in curds, minding my own business, when Meinir strolled in with that look in her eyes — the one that meant she was up to something. Before I could argue, she was handing me a plate and practically shoving me into a chair, all smiles and suspicious generosity. The next thing I knew I was trapped in a storm with the last person on earth I wanted to see.

Nick Davies.

You might know him as a rising rockstar. I know him as the boy who disappeared when I needed him most.

So, in honour of the utterly miserable predicament I find myself in, here are ten things I would genuinely, wholeheartedly rather do than be stuck in a storm with the one man capable of making me wish I was outside in the rain.

1. Clean the cheese cave with a toothbrush.

Ever tried scrubbing down a stone-walled, moisture-controlled cheese cave? No? Well, it’s a thrilling exercise in futility. Mould waits for no one, and neither do I. Hand me the toothbrush; I’d rather battle bacteria than my feelings.

2. Chase an escaped sheep through the village.

There is no dignity in running after a rogue ewe at full tilt while the local kids place bets on how long it will take before I land face-first in the mud. But even that level of humiliation is preferable to being stuck indoors with Nick and his stupidly handsome face.

3. Rewire the barn. In the dark.

Risk of electrocution? Minimal. Risk of biting my own tongue off rather than engage in another tense, loaded conversation with Nick? Considerably higher.

4. Listen to Meinir lecture me on the importance of taking time off.

She means well, but the woman is relentless. A solid hour of hearing about how I "need to live a little" is still better than spending one second in awkward silence with the person who once knew me better than anyone and now feels like a stranger.

5. Milk a particularly aggressive cow.

There’s always one. The kind that looks at you like it’s plotting your untimely demise the second you step into the milking shed. Bring it on. A solid hoof to the shin is preferable to making small talk with Nick about his glamorous life while I pretend I don’t care.

6. Attend a wedding where I’m the only single person at the table.

You know the ones. The couples exchange knowing glances, and some well-meaning aunt tries to set you up with her accountant's cousin's neighbour. It’s excruciating. But at least no one at that table once held my heart and then left without a word.

7. Hand-churn butter.

Listen, there’s something satisfying about working a churn until your arms feel like jelly, but it’s also the single most tedious thing I can think of. Still, I’d rather be wrist-deep in dairy than navigating the minefield of unresolved history currently flooding this kitchen.

8. Let the village gossip rework my dating profile.

Gwen at the post office is convinced she could "fix" my love life. Her version of me is, apparently, delightfully independent but also ready for love (I am neither). But even that horror show sounds more appealing than listening to Nick explain why he never came back.

9. Stand in the middle of a field during an actual lightning storm.

Dangerous? Yes. But at least Mother Nature doesn’t pretend she’s got my best interests at heart before letting me down spectacularly.

10. Admit that maybe, possibly, deep down, I still care.

No. Not happening. Absolutely not.

And yet, here I am. Stuck. Trapped by the relentless storm outside and the even worse one brewing in my chest. I’d love to tell you that I’m unaffected, that his presence doesn’t unravel something deep inside me. But we’ve already established that I’m a terrible liar.

It’s fine. It’s probably fine. Just a few hours. I can survive this. Right?

If you want to know how this disaster unfolds, pre-order Rockstar Regret now and watch me suffer in real time.

Some people get a say in their love life. Others live in a small town.

If you’ve ever been single in a place where everyone knows your name, you’ll know that matchmaking isn’t a choice, it’s a sport. The older ladies keep score. The prize? Seeing you paired off and producing grandchildren, whether you like it or not.

In Rockstar Regret, Meinir Williams takes her matchmaking duties seriously. Too seriously. She’s had enough of Cerys Evans hiding in her cheese room. So, she does what any self-respecting Welsh mam would do. She invites her to lunch and “forgets” to mention she’s also invited Nick Davies. Her son and Cerys’s ex-best friend. The boy she'd secretly loved since she was a teenager. The man she now can’t stand.

Meinir would call it fate. Cerys would call it an ambush.

Now, let’s say you’re in her shoes. You live in a small town. You’ve got a well-meaning but relentless matchmaker in your life. Would you escape? Or would you be married off before you knew what hit you?

Take the quiz and find out.

1. You pop into the local shop for milk. The owner gives you a knowing look. "You know who's single? My nephew. Lovely boy.”

A) You fake a phone call and flee.
B) You ask a few polite questions, then disappear before they can set anything up.
C) You panic and pretend to be in a serious relationship with the milk.
D) You smile, nod, and next thing you know, you’re on a date.

2. Your aunt invites you for dinner. The extra place at the table should’ve been your first clue. Then in walks their “lovely new neighbour.”

A) You text a friend: "HELP. EMERGENCY."
B) You make it your mission to be as awkward as possible.
C) You stare at your plate and wonder how long they’ve been plotting this.
D) You sigh and make conversation. Might as well see where it goes.

3. The village Christmas fair. You turn a corner and — bam — there’s your ex. Standing suspiciously close to Meinir Williams. She sees you. She grins. You’re doomed.

A) You fake a dramatic faint and hope for a swift exit.
B) You loudly say, "Oh, fancy seeing you, darling!" and kiss them on the cheek just to watch the matchmaker squirm.
C) You run. Just turn around and run.
D) You give in. Meinir always wins.

4. Your meddling neighbour starts dropping hints. “You and so-and-so would make a lovely couple.”

A) You pretend you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.
B) You start dropping hints right back — about their love life.
C) You develop a sudden and intense interest in moving abroad.
D) You consider it. Maybe she’s got a point.

5. You think you’ve escaped. Then disaster strikes. You’re stuck in a flash flood. With your ex. In a one-bed cottage.

A) You claim the bed and let them sleep on the floor.
B) You make a pillow barrier and enforce strict rules.
C) You accept your fate. Meinir will be smug.
D) You give in and let the tension simmer. Nothing warms a cold night like a little… rekindling.

Results:Mostly A’s – The Escape Artist

You’ve got instincts. You see matchmaking coming from a mile away. You dodge, deflect, and disappear. But be warned — people like Meinir love a challenge. You’ll slip up eventually.

Mostly B’s – The Chaos Gremlin

You don’t run. You fight. You turn matchmaking into a game, throwing curveballs at the matchmakers just to see what happens. Keep it up, but remember—one day, you might bluff your way into a real relationship.

Mostly C’s – The Reluctant Participant

You never mean to get involved. Yet somehow, you always end up smack in the middle of things. Deny it all you want, but you’re only one snowstorm away from a second-chance romance.

Mostly D’s – The Matchmaker’s Dream

Meinir would love you. You’re easy. One nudge, one not-so-subtle dinner invitation, and you’re walking down the aisle before you realise what’s happened. At least you’ll get a good shepherd’s pie out of it.

So? Did you survive, or did Meinir Williams just ruin — sorry, improve — your love life? Tell me in the comments. And if you’ve ever been caught in a real-life matchmaking scheme, I want all the deets.

Speaking of small-town meddling, forced proximity, and questionable decisions—Cerys and Nick have got all that covered in Rockstar Regret, landing on February 20th.

Pre-order now and get ready to witness Meinir’s most ambitious matchmaking attempt yet.

Nick

I hadn’t seen it coming. Hell, I hadn’t even suspected it.

The manipulative genius of Meinir had completely blindsided me. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing through the old farmhouse. My heart skipped a beat, and not in the good way. Being alone with Cerys Evans? Terrifying didn’t begin to cover it.

The woman had made it her mission to remind me of every mistake I’d ever made. Her glares could freeze hell over, I swear.

I stared at her, trying to reconcile the woman before me with the girl I’d known. Her hair was longer, pulled back in a practical braid, but a few wisps had escaped to frame her face. She’d always been beautiful, but there was a sharpness to her features now, a hardness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Was that my fault too?

I’d come back to the farm to see Meinir, like I always did when I passed through town. It had become a tradition, something I felt I owed her after Gareth’s death. A small penance, perhaps, for not being there when it mattered most.

I hadn’t expected Cerys. And if I’d known she was going to be here, I probably would’ve run the other way.

Coward.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. My fingers itched to grab my drumsticks, to fill the quiet with a rhythm, any rhythm. Instead, I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from fidgeting.

Part of me wanted to fill it with words, explanations, apologies — anything. But what could I say that I hadn’t tried to say a hundred times before? Every rehearsed line felt hollow now.

I shifted in my seat at the old wooden table, wishing I was anywhere but here — back on stage, mid-set, drumsticks whirling in my hands as I got lost in the beat.

“So...” I said, trailing off awkwardly.

“So,” Cerys echoed, suddenly very interested in the pattern on her plate.

“Remind me never to play poker with that woman.” I forced a chuckle that sounded hollow even to my own ears.

She grunted, but continued to study her plate like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Did you have any idea she was planning this little ambush?”

She turned her head just enough to glance at me, her green eyes sharp. “If I had, do you think I’d be here?”

Fair point.

She let out a derisive snort. “She’s meddling where she’s not wanted.”

I bit back a sigh. Talking to Cerys these days was like navigating a minefield — one wrong step and everything blew up in my face.

“Look, I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I just wanted to see Meinir before heading back on tour.”

“Well, you’ve seen her,” she said, her tone icy. “No one’s stopping you from leaving.”

Ouch. But true. Yet even with that knowledge, I didn’t move from my seat.

“Probably not wise for me to drive the country lanes when it’s bucketing it down.”

She shrugged, folding the tea towel with precise movements. “You’re a big boy. I’m sure a bit of rain won’t melt you.”

Her words stung more than they should have. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the retort that threatened to spill out.

There was no point in arguing. Not with her. Not after all these years.

I cleared my throat, desperate to break the suffocating silence. “So... how’s the cheese business?”

Cerys stiffened in her chair, her movements slow and deliberate as she picked up her cup. She arched an eyebrow, finally glancing up at me. “It’s fine.”

“Just fine?” I offered a tentative smile. “Meins mentioned you’ve been winning awards.”

Her expression remained guarded. “She exaggerates.”

“Still, it’s impressive. You always had a knack for it.”

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t know. You haven’t been around.”

There it was — the dagger slipped between the ribs. I resisted the urge to rub my chest where the phantom pain settled. I’d had years of practice hiding my emotions from the press, from fans, from myself.

“Fair enough, but I always knew you had it in you.”

She snorted, a sound caught between derision and amusement. “Right. Because you’ve been so involved in my life lately.”

I winced internally but didn’t let it show. The urge to flee warred with the need to make things right, somehow. But how do you mend eight years of silence and blame?

“Look, I know I haven’t been around much, but—”

“Save it,” she cut me off, pushing back from the table. The legs of her chair scraped against the stone floor, the sound grating on my nerves. “I don’t need your half-assed apologies or your pity. I’m doing just fine without you.”

She stood, gathering the plates with sharp, efficient movements. The clink of china seemed unnaturally loud in the tense quiet. Her hands trembled ever so slightly. Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking.

“Here, let me help.” I reached for a dish.

Our hands brushed, and we both jerked back as if burned. For a split second, I was seventeen again, sneaking glances at Cerys across the classroom, my heart racing every time she smiled. But those stolen looks were always tinged with guilt. She was Gareth’s girl, utterly off-limits. I’d buried those feelings deep, channelling them into my music.

Now, her eyes held no warmth, just a weary resignation that cut deeper than any glare.

“I’ve got it,” she said, her voice clipped. “You’d probably just break something anyway.”

I bit back a sigh and slumped back into my chair. This was going nowhere fast.

I should just leave.

My eyes followed Cerys around the kitchen, efficiently clearing up. The half-eaten shepherd’s pie sat in front of me.

Part of me wanted to shovel it down, fulfilling my promise to Meins so I could bolt. But another part, the part I’d been trying to silence for years, knew I owed Cerys more than that. Still, I found myself picking up my fork, pushing the food around my plate as I searched for something, anything, to say.

My legs jiggled under the table — an old habit I couldn’t get a handle on. The tension humming between us was thick enough to drown in, but I wasn’t about to run yet. Meinir could storm in any second with dessert, tell us to play nice, and maybe this would all blow over — or, at the very least, I could retreat back to the life waiting for me outside her farmhouse door.

“And, um, how’s your dad?” I asked, grasping for any thread of conversation. “Is he giving you a hard time for changing things up in the business?”

The plate in Cerys’s hand clattered into the sink. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch like a cat waking from a nap — slow, deliberate, more dangerous than it looked.

She turned to face me, her expression a mix of disbelief and bitter amusement. She met my eyes, her gaze hard. “My father passed away last year, Nick. Another funeral you missed.”

My heart sank to somewhere around the floor. “Shit, I... I had no idea. I’m...”

“Sorry?” she finished for me, the fire in her eyes sparking brighter.

A flash of lightning outside punctuated her words, briefly illuminating the kitchen in harsh white light.

“Don’t bother. Your apologies don’t mean much.” Her tone turned bitter. “I don’t know why I was stupid enough to hope you might show up. You couldn’t even do that for Gareth.”

The name — his name — hung heavy between us, cutting through the thin veil of civility we’d been clinging to. And just like that, I knew we were headed straight into the thick of it, and there was no avoiding it now.

A familiar tightness gripped my chest, the old guilt resurfacing with a vengeance. I didn’t know how to respond.

For years, I’d rehearsed all the things I could say if I saw her again, something that could explain why I stayed away without sounding like the complete coward I was. But now, staring into her fire-spitting eyes? All those words tangled up in my throat.

When I didn’t respond, she sighed and wiped her hands on a tea towel, the motion brisk.

“If you’re not going to leave, we should get that over with.” She gestured to the cardboard box I’d diligently tried to ignore.

“You mean... now?”

“Yes, now.” She arched a brow, a hint of impatience flashing in her eyes. “Unless you’d prefer to drag this out even longer. Frankly, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can both get back to our lives and never have to see each other again.”

Ouch. Not that I didn’t deserve it. Still, hearing her say it so bluntly sent a sharp pang through my chest.

“Fine,” I muttered, pushing myself up from the table. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Fine.” Her gaze fell to the worn cardboard and mine begrudgingly followed.

How could something so innocent looking contain so much potential for pain?

Cerys reached out, her fingers hovering over the dusty cardboard. Hesitation radiated from her and I couldn’t blame her. We’d spent so much time in this house growing up, spent so many hours with Gareth, experienced so many firsts together. There would only be good memories inside that box, but even knowing that with absolute certainty, the thought of opening it, of exposing those happy times to life without him…it was the last thing I wanted to do.

I couldn’t believe Meins would ever throw Gareth’s things out, but that didn’t mean I was willing to risk it.

Which left one option.

Swallow the lump in my throat and get my shit together.

Finally, Cerys took a deep breath and released the haphazard crisscross holding it shut. We each stared at it again. I wouldn’t be surprised if we each held our breath at the same time.

“We can do this in the living room,” she said, not meeting my gaze.

“Lead the way,” I said, my voice strained.

 

Rockstar Regret releases Feb 20th, 2025. Preorder now.

Let’s talk about rock star romances. Because I’m obsessed, you’re obsessed, and let’s face it — we’re all a little weak in the knees for a brooding rock star with a soft spot for that one person who can break through their carefully crafted exterior. Sound familiar? (Rockstar Regret, anyone?)

If you’ve ever wondered why this trope pulls us in so completely, grab your tea (or wine — no judgment here), and let’s break it down.

1. The Allure of a Rising Star

Unlike the seasoned, jaded stars we see in some romances, there’s something irresistible about watching a band just on the cusp of their big break. Nick Lewis and Lover's Knot are starting to make waves, but they’re not quite household names yet. It’s this in-between phase — the grit and determination, the hope and uncertainty — that adds a different kind of magic to Rockstar Regret. You feel like you’re growing with them, experiencing those highs for the first time right alongside Nick.

2. The Music That Speaks What They Can’t

If there’s one thing that rock star romances do better than any other trope, it’s the way they use music to express what words alone can’t. Love, regret, longing — it’s all poured into songs that make you feel every heartbeat and hesitation.

In Chasing Alys, Ryan Evans didn’t just tell Alys how he felt; he wrote songs about it, he serenaded her, dedicating “Run” to her during a live performance. That moment captured everything — the vulnerability, the raw emotion, the kind of love that demands to be heard.

And then there’s James in Winning Nia. His songs weren’t just declarations of love — they were apologies, promises, and the kind of emotional confessions that only someone with a guitar in hand can make.

These moments make us fall for the heroes all over again because they remind us that music isn’t just entertainment — it’s a language of the heart. Ryan and James didn’t just love their women; they immortalised them, turning their feelings into melodies that will echo forever.

3. The Fantasy of Being Chosen

We’ve all had that one famous crush. The one we daydreamed about meeting in a coffee shop or bumping into at a gig. It’s the dream of catching their eye, having them see something in us that they can’t ignore — and rockstar romance brings that fantasy to life.

In Marrying Olivia, Olivia Monroe isn’t just a fan of Lewis Davies; she grew up with his posters on her wall and his songs playing on repeat. When a chance meeting at a bar puts her face-to-face with the bassist of The Brightside, sparks fly immediately. Lewis doesn’t see her as just another opening act — he sees her. Their connection is electric, undeniable, and leads straight to a whirlwind Vegas wedding. Olivia isn’t just living the dream of meeting her celebrity crush — she’s marrying him.

4. The Unpredictable Thrill of Life on Tour

Life on tour isn’t just a backdrop — it’s a character all on its own. The long nights, crowded tour buses, and adrenaline-fuelled performances create a unique intensity that pulls us in. It’s unpredictable, fast-paced, and filled with moments that make us dream of what it’d be like to be part of that world.

In Daring Ceri, Ceri Daniels’ carefully planned life gets turned upside down when she’s swept into her rockstar ex-husband Alex’s world. Joining his tour throws them into close proximity, forcing them to confront their feelings while balancing the pressures of fame. Love and life on tour are anything but predictable, and that’s why we’re obsessed.

5. The Brooding Rockstar with a Heart of Gold

Ah, the brooding rockstar. He’s aloof, guarded, and maybe a little grumpy—but the right person cracks his armour wide open. We can’t help but swoon when the cocky musician reveals that deep down, he’s just as vulnerable as the rest of us.

Ryan Evans in Chasing Alys is the perfect example. Sure, he’s confident on stage, but when it comes to Alys? She leaves him completely out of his depth. Watching him fumble, fall, and ultimately bare his heart to her reminds us why we love this trope so much. It’s the juxtaposition of swagger and softness that makes these heroes irresistible.

6. The Juxtaposition of Ordinary and Extraordinary

One of the most compelling parts of rockstar romances is the contrast between the two worlds our characters inhabit. There’s the extraordinary — the fame, the fans, the stage lights — and then there’s the ordinary — the quiet, grounded moments that remind us what really matters.

In Rockstar Regret, Nick Davies is living the dream: a record deal, months on tour, and a band that’s finally making waves. But when he comes home, all of that fades in the face of a woman who doesn’t care about who he’s becoming, only who he was to her. Cerys forces Nick to confront his past and his demons, reminding him that love isn’t about the spotlight or the crowds; it’s about honesty, vulnerability, and showing up, even when it’s hard.

7. The Grand Gestures That Prove It’s Real

Rockstars are no strangers to taking big risks, but when they fall in love, their grand gestures hit even harder. These aren’t just about sweeping someone off their feet — they’re about proving they’ll do whatever it takes to make love work, no matter the obstacles.

In Marrying Olivia, Lewis Davies leaves the familiarity of the tour and runs the gauntlet of Olivia’s small-town community. Despite knowing her nosy neighbours are sending him on a wild goose chase, Lewis doesn’t stop. He takes every wrong turn, follows every false lead, all to find Olivia and show her that he’s all in. It’s not about proving his worth to the town — it’s about proving his love to Olivia.

This kind of grand gesture makes us melt because it’s not about fame or flashy romance — it’s about showing up, putting in the effort, and being all in when it matters most.

8. The Found Family Vibes

One of the most beautiful parts of rockstar romances is the sense of family that goes beyond blood. Bands aren’t just a group of musicians — they’re a messy, loyal, sometimes infuriating family that’s always there when it counts. And when the heroine steps into that world, she’s not just falling for the rockstar; she’s finding her place in a new, fiercely protective tribe.

Whether it’s the teasing banter backstage, the late-night pep talks, or the unspoken support when things get tough, these found families remind us that love isn’t just about two people — it’s about the people who surround them and cheer them on. It’s in the way bandmates step in to help fix a mistake, offer a shoulder to lean on, or quietly celebrate their successes from the sidelines.

9. The Angst That Makes the HEA So Much Sweeter

The beauty of rockstar romances is the delicious angst — the miscommunications, the moments of self-doubt, and the longing that builds tension with every page. It’s those moments where you feel the characters’ pain and root for them to figure things out that make the happy ending so much more rewarding.

In Chasing Alys, the tension comes from Alys’s refusal to let herself fall for Ryan. After being burned by a past relationship, she’s guarded, hesitant to trust again, and determined not to lose herself to another man. Ryan, who’s used to winning people over easily, struggles with how deeply Alys gets under his skin. Watching him put himself out there — writing songs for her, chasing her when she pulls away — and seeing Alys fight her own feelings creates the kind of slow-burn angst we can’t get enough of. It’s their journey through vulnerability and uncertainty that makes their eventual HEA so satisfying.

10. The Power of Redemption

Rockstar romances don’t shy away from flawed characters, and that’s why we love them. These stories aren’t about perfect heroes — they’re about messy, complicated people learning from their mistakes and proving they’re capable of more.

In Rockstar Regret, Nick Davies doesn’t come home as a changed man. He’s still grappling with his choices, his guilt, and the pain he’s carried since Gareth’s death. But instead of avoiding the people and memories that hold him accountable, he stays. He faces Cerys, who refuses to let him off the hook or allow him to hide behind his fame.

Nick’s redemption isn’t about grand gestures or sweeping declarations. It’s about the quiet moments — sitting at the kitchen table, going through Gareth’s belongings, and finally confronting the grief and guilt he’s tried to outrun.

These kinds of stories remind us that redemption isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing up, doing the hard work, and proving that love and forgiveness are worth fighting for.

Rockstar romances pull us in because they’ve got it all — drama, passion, and love that feels larger than life. But at the heart of every story, it’s not the fame or the fans that matter. It’s the relationships, the struggles, and the moments that remind us why we believe in love in the first place.

If you’re craving a story with all of this and more, don’t forget that Rockstar Regret releases on February 20th. Nick and Cerys’s story will have you rooting for second chances and love that’s worth fighting for.

Cerys

Meinir Davies was like a well-aged Caerphilly — sharp, a bit crumbly, and impossible to ignore. If I could box her up and ship her off to a fancy London cheese shop, I would.

No, really, I would...

Oh, who am I kidding? She owned the land my cheeses called home, and worse, she was my late boyfriend’s mother.

But bloody hell, some days she made me want to tear my hair out and run screaming into the hills of the Brecon Beacons. And today? She’d outdone herself. I swear, that woman could try the patience of a saint — or a stubborn Welsh cheesemaker, which might be the tougher test.

The meddling pain in my ass had topped herself today. I never thought she’d manage to strike getting me to socialise outside the farmer’s market off the list, but she’d done it. Probably been plotting this longer than it takes to age a decent Cheddar, the crafty old goat.

I just wanted to do my job, get the next batch of Snowdonia Blue into the ageing room, pack some orders, and maybe clock out before the sunset for the first time in a bloody year.

But no, Meins hadn’t agreed with those plans and had twisted my arm into lunch with that knowing look of hers. The one that made me feel like a naughty schoolgirl caught sneaking extra bara brith.

Had she spilled the beans on who she’d invited to lunch, I might have put up more of a fight.

Might have rubbed my fingers raw testing cheese textures to avoid it. Might have mysteriously developed a case of cheese cave fever. Anything to avoid... this.

But I hadn’t, and now I stood in her old farmhouse kitchen, staring at the one man who could still make my heart do a jig worthy of the Eisteddfod with just a look.

Nick bloody Lewis.

I’d rather face a cranky ram than deal with this. At least the ram would be honest about wanting to knock me on my ass.

Nick stared back at me — or more at the spot to the right of my shoulder — appearing just as shocked as I felt, his blue eyes wide and darting between me and Meinir. The kitchen suddenly felt as stuffy as my ageing room in midsummer.

Christ, is the room shrinking?

“Cerys,” he said, his deliciously gruff voice curling around my name exactly as it had in school. Only then I’d been his best friend, doing everything I could to pretend that he couldn’t make me shiver with just a word.

Now? Now I was doing everything I could not to show how much it still affected me. Stupid, traitorous body.

His gaze skittered around the kitchen, bouncing from Meins to the kettle boiling on the stove and back. “I... didn’t know you’d be here.”

“That makes two of us,” I said, my voice sharper than a well-honed cheese knife. I turned to the mischievous meddler, who was busying herself with the kettle, a suspiciously innocent expression on her face. “Meins, a word?”

But before I could drag her into the pantry for a proper Welsh telling-off, Nick cleared his throat. “Look, I should go. This was obviously a mistake—”

“Oh no, Nicky,” Meinir said, her voice soft but with that edge I knew all too well. The one that could guilt a saint into eating another slice of cake. “You’ve only just got back from tour. Surely you can spare me an hour for lunch? I’ve made your favourite shepherd’s pie and there’s bara brith for dessert. Please stay. It’s been ages since we’ve all sat down together. Gareth would want that, don’t you think?”

Low blow, Meins.

I watched his resolve crumble. Though really, no one would be surprised. The woman was more tenacious than a choir director at the Eisteddfod.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Right, of course. Sorry.”

Before I could make my own escape — maybe I could fake a cheese emergency? Runaway Camembert? — she turned to me, her eyes twinkling like she’d just won Star Baker on the Great British Bake Off. “And you, Cerys bach. That cheese of yours can wait an hour. It won’t kill you to take a break and eat your lunch sitting down for once.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Meins was already pushing us both towards the table. This was going to be a long, awkward lunch. And if I survived it without lobbing a wheel of cheese at someone’s head, it’d be a miracle.

Preferably a nice, heavy wheel of Caerphilly.

At Nick’s stupidly handsome face.

I glared at the placemat. “I’d rather be elbow-deep in curds and whey right now.”

Nick snorted. “Some things never change, do they, Evans?”

I shot him a look that could curdle milk. “And some people never learn when to keep their mouths shut, do they, Nicky?”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes that used to make my teenage heart flutter, darkened. “Right. Because you’re the expert on knowing when to stop talking.”

I bristled, my fingers itching for that wheel of cheese. Why hadn’t I thought to bring one in from my workshop? But before I could unleash a retort that would make a sailor blush, Meinir swooped in, her voice saccharine sweet.

“Now, now, you two. Let’s not bicker. The pie is ready, and I’ve made a pot of tea. Shall we sit?”

I glanced at Nick, catching his eye for a brief moment. The silent communication we’d perfected years ago hadn’t faded, it seemed. His slight eye roll matched my barely concealed sigh. We were both trapped in Meinir’s web of good intentions and nostalgia.

“Fine,” I muttered, dropping into a chair at the worn wooden table. Might as well get this over with.

If I ate fast enough, I could escape before Meins tried to make us sing Kumbaya or something equally horrifying.

Nick pulled out his own seat, the basic, simple action making deja vu brush against my mind. How many times had we sat at this very table with Gareth, laughing and planning our futures back when the future seemed limitless and unbreakable? Back when we were young and stupid enough to believe that nothing could tear us apart.

God, we were idiots.

Meinir busied herself, setting out mismatched china cups and plates with a cheerful clatter at odds with the tension humming between Nick and me. The rich, spicy scent of freshly baked bara brith filled the air, a comforting aroma that usually made me feel at home. Today, it just made my stomach churn.

Funny how even the most comforting things can turn sour when mixed with regret and resentment.

Outside, the December rain continued its relentless assault, pattering against the windows and streaming down the glass in fat rivulets. The gloomy Welsh winter had settled in with a vengeance, turning the world beyond the farmhouse into a grey, sodden mess. I suppressed a shiver, grateful for the warmth of the kitchen, even if the company left something to be desired.

“I hope you’re both hungry,” Meinir said, setting a steaming casserole dish in the centre of the table. “Nothing beats a good shepherd’s pie on a day like this.”

I had to admit, it did look delicious. Golden-brown mashed potatoes crusted the top, hiding the lamb and vegetable filling beneath.

On any other day, I’d be salivating. Today, I wasn’t sure I could stomach a bite.

“It looks great, Meins,” Nick said, his voice warm. “Just like I remember.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Careful there, rock star. Wouldn’t want to ruin your fancy tour diet with home cooking.”

“Don’t be stupid. You know I’ve always loved Meins’s cooking.”

“Sure you do. That’s why she barely sees you.”

Nick shrugged, attempting a nonchalant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The band’s been busy. Big tours, new music… You know how it is. I visit when I can.”

“So you say.” I’d never seen him on any of those visits. In the first few years after Gareth’s death, he’d gone out of his way to make them as last minute as possible so Meins couldn’t invite me. “I remember a time when you cleared your calendar for us.” But that was before. I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the pang in my chest.

“It’s hard for young artists,” Meinir said, buying his empty excuses yet again. “I understand, and I appreciate every moment you gift me.”

Nick nodded, but I continued to glare at him. He’d done everything he could to avoid us after Gareth’s death. The kitchen fell silent, save for the soft tick of the ancient clock on the wall and the persistent drum of rain against the windows.

Meinir began serving generous portions onto our plates and despite my churning emotions, my stomach gave an involuntary growl.

Traitor.

As we ate, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, couldn’t stop myself from taking in all the changes eight years had wrought. He was still unfairly attractive, damn him. His dark hair was longer now, artfully tousled in that way that probably took ages to perfect but was meant to look effortless. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, and I could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

He looked... different.

Older, of course, but there was something else. A weariness in the set of his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes that spoke of more than just jet lag.

For a moment, a flicker of concern jolted to life inside of me. Then I remembered the last time I’d seen him, at the hospital while the doctor delivered the news that Gareth had passed. The way he’d avoided my gaze, muttered some platitude about being sorry, and disappeared. The concern shrivelled, replaced by the familiar burn of resentment. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice... Well, I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“So, Nicky,” Meinir said, breaking the tense silence. “Tell me all about your tour. America, wasn’t it?”

Nick shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Good. Let him squirm. Let him feel a fraction of the discomfort I’ve been living with for years.

“Yeah, we’ve been supporting The Brightside on their US tour. It’s been... intense.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “Intense? What, the groupies too demanding?”

His eyes snapped to mine, a flash of hurt quickly masked by annoyance. “It’s not like that. You know I’m not—”

I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to slice one of my prize-winning cheddars. “I don’t know anything about you anymore, Nick. Eight years is a long time.”

His face fell, and for a second, I glimpsed the boy I used to know — vulnerable and a bit lost. But then his jaw set, and he was back to being the stranger who’d walked into Meinir’s kitchen. The boy I knew was gone, replaced by this... this rock star who couldn’t be bothered to remember where he came from.

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve tried—”

“Tried what?” I shook my head. “To set a world record for avoiding your hometown?”

Meinir cleared her throat. “Now, now, let’s not—”

“It’s okay, Meins,” Nick said, his eyes locked on mine. “Cerys has something to say. Let’s hear it.”

The challenge in his voice made my blood boil. Who did he think he was, waltzing back in here like nothing had changed?

“Oh, you want to hear it? Fine. How about we start with how you vanished after Gareth’s funeral? Or how about the fact that you couldn’t even be bothered to call in on his birthday last year?”

Nick flinched. “I was on tour. We had a gig—”

“Right, because heaven forbid you miss a show to remember your best friend.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t stop them. Years of pent-up anger and hurt were bubbling to the surface like an overflowing cheese vat.

This is why I’d avoided him for eight years.

“That’s enough,” Meinir said, her tone stern. “Both of you. This isn’t why I invited you.”

I turned my glare on her. “And why did you drag me out of my cheese room for this? To reminisce about the good old days? News flash: they’re gone. Just like Gareth.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Her face crumpled, and even Nick looked horrified. Shame washed over me, hot and suffocating. My throat closed up, choking on words I wished I could take back. Why had I said that? I never brought Gareth up to Meins. It was an unspoken rule, a line I’d never crossed.

Until now.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to croak out. “That was... I shouldn’t have said that.”

Meinir took a deep breath, composing herself. “It’s alright, cariad. I know you’re hurting. We all are.”

Nick pushed his food around his plate. “I should—”

“No,” she snapped, surprising us both. “You’re staying. Both of you. We’re going to finish this meal, and we’re going to talk. Like adults.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she gave me a look that would make a dragon think twice. I shut it again, feeling like a scolded child. Which, to be fair, was pretty much how I was acting.

“I’ve been meaning to give you something,” Meins said before the silence could stretch any further.

She walked over to the old oak sideboard. Opening a cupboard, she pulled out a worn, cardboard box and set it deliberately at the end of the table where neither of us could escape it. My stomach plummeted.

“It’s Gareth’s things. Bits and pieces I thought you both might want.”

I stared at the box, my throat going dry. “Meins, I don’t think—”

“No,” Nick said, his voice strained. “I can’t go through that.”

Her expression hardened. “You’ve avoided this long enough. Both of you. It’s time to face the past instead of running from it.”

“I’m not running,” I snapped, though the quiver in my voice betrayed me. “I just don’t see the point.”

“If you won’t take the time to go through them, I’m throwing them out.”

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered, shocked. Gareth was her son. She kept everything of his, from childhood drawings to his old rugby boots. His room was like a freaking shrine.

“Try me.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’ve held on to this for eight years. It’s time to let go.”

Nick swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the box. “Meinir, please. Not today.”

“Yes, today,” she said, her tone hard. “You two need to confront this, together.”

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen, broken only by the relentless rain hammering against the windows. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, the air thick with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

“Fine,” I finally muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “But don’t expect miracles.”

Nick glanced at me, his expression a mix of relief and resignation. “Alright. We’ll get it over with.”

Meins nodded, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you. Both of you.” She took her seat again. “Now,” she said, her voice softening. “Did you get to see much of  America, Nicky?”

He hesitated, glancing at me before answering. “Not really. It was mostly hotels and venues. We did get a couple of days off here and there.” His lips curved into a little smirk, a look he got when he was about to wind me up.

My eyes narrowed on the little shit, bracing myself for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth.

“I finally got to see Boston, though.”

Envy instantly speared through me, sharp and hot as a knife through soft cheese. Just like he knew it would.

Boston. He’d gone without me.

I felt like I’d been sucker-punched. It wasn’t fair. 

“What was it like?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Nick’s eyes lit up. “It was great. We had a whole day off, so I did the full tourist thing. Walked the Freedom Trail, saw Fenway Park. But the best part? We passed by the Boston Police Headquarters — you know, the one from Rizzoli & Isles? And I swear I saw a café that looked just like the Dirty Robber.”

“Did you get to go inside?” I asked, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. The words came out softer than I intended, betraying my interest. Betraying the part of me that still cared, that still wanted to share this with him.

“Yeah, actually.” Nick’s grin widened, and I could see the excitement dancing in his eyes. “I convinced the guys to grab a drink there. It wasn’t exactly like in the show, but man, it felt surreal.”

The image hit me like a ton of bricks. Nick, sitting in the bar we’d dreamed about, living out our shared fantasy without me. It shouldn’t hurt this much, not after all this time. But it did. It felt like he’d taken a piece of our past, of us, and made it his alone.

“That’s… that’s great,” I managed, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. “I’m glad you got to see it.” The lie sat heavy on my tongue, but what else could I say? That I was jealous? That it should have been me there with him? That he had no right to our dreams anymore?

“I took some photos,” Nick said, his voice softening. “If you want to see them later, I mean.”

Later. As if we’d be hanging out after this forced lunch. As if we were friends again, sharing stories and swapping photos like old times. As if the last eight years hadn’t happened, hadn’t changed us both.

I stabbed at a piece of lamb, focusing on my food to hide the conflicting emotions on my face.

Don’t fall for it, Cerys.

He’ll be gone again before you can say ‘cheese curd.’ This isn’t the start of something new. It’s just a reminder of everything you’ve lost.

Meinir leaned forward, her eyes shining with pride. “Did you get to try any of the local food?”

While Nick gushed over Boston cream pies and clam chowder, I found myself torn between wanting to hear every detail and wanting to plug my ears. Each word was a reminder of what I’d missed out on, of the life he’d lived while I’d stayed behind, tethered to this place.

Part of me wanted to lash out, to hurt him like his words were hurting me. But another part, a part I thought I’d buried years ago, wanted to ask if he’d thought of me while he was there. If he’d wished, even for a moment, that I was there with him.

Instead, I sat there, silent, letting his words wash over me like the rain outside. And all the while, that traitorous heart of mine kept beating, kept hoping, kept wondering what it would be like if things had been different.

“...and the gig tonight is huge,” Nick was saying, pulling me back to the present. “If all goes well, we could be signed by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, cariad, that’s wonderful!” Meinir clapped her hands together, beaming like she’d just won first prize at the county show. “I always knew you’d make it big. Didn’t I tell you, Cerys? Our Nicky, a real rock star.”

I forced a smile, ignoring the twinge in my chest. “Yeah, great.”

He met my gaze, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of... something. Uncertainty? Guilt? Before I could decipher it, he looked away, focusing on Meins again. Coward.

“It’s not a done deal yet,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But the label seems interested. They’re sending some execs to the show tonight.”

“You’ll blow them away, I’m sure,” she said, reaching out to pat his hand. “You always had the talent.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Christ, why don’t you just build him a shrine in the living room, Meins?

“I’m sure the fancy hair and tattoos don’t hurt either.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not about the image. It’s about the music. Always has been.”

“Right,” I scoffed, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Because nothing says‘it’s all about the music’ like playing support for the pop band flavour of the month.”

“One, The Brightside aren’t a pop band,” Nick said, his voice tight. “Two, they’re a multi-award winning, international rock sensation who helped Marable put Wales on the music map. Third, they’re incredibly talented musicians and they’ve given us more amazing opportunities than we deserved.”

Bitterness burned inside of me and I despised the person it turned me into around Nick. This angry, spiteful version of myself that I barely recognised. But I also didn’t want to stop it. It was easier to be angry than to admit how much his absence still hurt.

“And here I thought you might have had the chance to write something original instead of riding their coattails,” I said, my fork stabbing through a piece of meat with unnecessary force. The screech of metal on china made me wince, but I didn’t back down.

A muscle ticked in Nick’s jaw. “You know what? Sometimes support slots are just the beginning. It’s how you build your career.”

“Now, now, children,” Meins said before I could come up with a cutting retort. “Let’s not turn this into a battle.” She narrowed her eyes on me, silently telling me to get my shit together. If only I could. Then she turned her focus back to him. “Tell me about your new music.”

His brow furrowed, and he hesitated, searching my eyes. “We’re working on our next album. It’s more... personal.” The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. “Like we finally decided to stop hiding behind the noise and actually write about things that matter.”

“Really?” I feigned interest, but the anger simmered below. “What kind of things? Girlfriends and parties?”

He shot me a look filled with disdain, sharpening that undercurrent of connection we so desperately tried to ignore. “No. I write about life, Cerys. About loss. Regret.”

It must be nice to think that the world could be reduced to mere music notes and catchy lyrics for him. Meanwhile, I lived here, surrounded by the memories of what we’d had and what we’d lost. The idea that Nick could wrap his loss in a melody and suddenly feel better felt like a sick joke.

Before I could fire back, Meinir stood up abruptly. “Oh! Oh dear, I’ve just remembered. I have an appointment in town. I have to go.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion creeping in. “An appointment? Now?”

Pull the other one, Meins. It’s got bells on.

She was already gathering her things, moving with a speed that belied her years. “Yes, yes. Very important. Can’t miss it. You two finish your lunch, alright?”

“Meins, wait—” Nick started, but she was already at the door.

“Sorry, cariad. We’ll catch up again. Must dash. Enjoy your lunch!”

 

Rockstar Regret releases Feb 20th, 2025. Preorder now.

Would you believe me if I told you that a single scene in one of my books once made me sob so hard I had to stop typing? It’s strange how fiction can do that — break us down, then stitch us back together. I’m talking about tears that weren’t planned, rolling over old heartbreaks I’d never fully faced.

While writing Chasing Alys, I was vaguely aware that some of the core themes of the book were tugging on my past experiences. I thought I was fine, that I’d buried the pain of being cheated on and ghosted. But as I wrote Alys and Ryan’s breakup and eventual makeup, something cracked inside me. I cried, hard, like someone had finally reached into my chest and found that tiny knot of hurt I’d kept hidden.

When I finished typing, I felt lighter. Almost… healed.

Here’s the truth: I love a good, gut-wrenching breakup — not because I enjoy seeing my characters in pain, but because there’s something deeply cathartic about watching them, and myself, work through it.

Vulnerability, Creativity, and Healing

Breakups in romance novels serve a greater purpose than just driving plotlines. Vulnerability is the cornerstone of creating impactful art. To truly touch readers, I have to dig deep, confronting my own fears, heartbreaks, and insecurities. But as much as vulnerability fuels creativity, it can also leave us exposed.

These scenes allow us to explore emotions we might avoid in real life. Writing the breakup scenes in Chasing Alys and Defying Ella was as much about crafting the characters’ arcs as it was about processing my own feelings.

The breakup in Defying Ella came from a deeply personal moment — one written after my own breakup. That rawness channeled perfectly into Ella’s emotions, creating a scene that resonated deeply with readers.

Vulnerability, however, is a double-edged sword. To create art that truly touches people, authors have to wear their hearts on their sleeves. But that openness also leaves us in a precarious position, where the smallest personal upheavals can shake our creative foundations.

Like Alys, I’ve been burnt by relationships too many times to count. Protecting my muse — my creativity — has meant taking deliberate steps to shield myself emotionally, whether by avoiding relationships or by throwing myself into experiences that feed my soul, like travel. Those steps don’t just protect me; they enrich my stories, giving them the nuance and rawness readers crave.

Romance Novels: Mirrors for the Soul

When my characters heal, I heal. Romance novels are so much more than fantasy; they’re emotional mirrors. Through characters like Alys and Ryan or Ella and Jared, readers see themselves. They relive their own heartbreaks, confront unresolved feelings, and find solace in the promise of healing and love.

Writing these stories requires walking a fine line. I need to dig deep into painful experiences for authenticity, but I also need to leave space for hope. Even in the darkest moments of my novels, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. That’s what keeps me coming back to romance — the happily-ever-afters that make every tear worth it.

A Shared Catharsis

Breakup scenes are more than just plot devices. They’re moments where characters show their deepest fears, regrets, and love. Vulnerability shines through, not just in what they say, but in what they don’t. Ryan’s quiet apology in Chasing Alys wasn’t just words; it was his way of baring his soul, of saying, “This is me, flaws and all.”

These moments of raw emotion resonate with readers because they’re real. They remind us of our own struggles and triumphs. As I look toward new projects, I’m excited to dig deeper. To explore relationships that aren’t perfect, breakups that sting, and reconciliations that feel earned. Because life is messy. Love is messy. And through it all, we’re searching for those moments that make us feel whole again.