Seth Myers, the newest member of Savage Melody, wants out. Not out of the band, just out of the house he shares with two manwhores who are turning his home into a modern-day brothel. And he's sick of it. "What?" She looked confused for a moment. "Oh, yeah, she's fine. Just some monthly check up appointment for Babygate." I couldn't help but laugh at the girl's gumption. Once the press had found out that JB was an expectant father with his PR-pimping girlfriend, fake photographs had gone around the internet of her supposed sonogram, though she hadn't even had one yet. The paparazzi were calling the false pics "Babygate", while TKO's reputation expanded under the limelight of JB Jr. tucked away in Hol's modest baby bump. But to have this chick-whoever she was-call it Babygate in such a blasé tone had me wanting to hug the crap out of her. Or thrust my tongue in her mouth and taste her sweetness. One of the other-preferably both. Just add dick. Proceed with caution on this book. Steaminess lurks inside. Just like a heart of gold lurks in Savage Melody's rose-tattooed chest.