I don’t do impulsive. Not anymore.
But when my best friend begs me to fake-date her cousin at an exclusive gala, I can’t say no. He’s a rockstar, after all'''a brooding, tattooed, drop-dead gorgeous musician who doesn’t need a fake girlfriend. Yet here I am, in a borrowed dress, on his arm, pretending I belong in his glittering world.
The problem? Ryder Kane isn’t just playing along. His smoldering glances and teasing whispers feel all too real, and when he pulls me into his arms on the dance floor, the sparks are undeniable. I’m supposed to be helping him fix his image, not imagining what it would feel like if this was real.
But Ryder has secrets, ones that make me question why he agreed to this charade in the first place. The more I learn, the more I realize faking it with Ryder might not just be a bad idea—it might be the worst mistake of my life.
If I let myself fall for a rockstar, who’s going to be there to catch me?
But when my best friend begs me to fake-date her cousin at an exclusive gala, I can’t say no. He’s a rockstar, after all'''a brooding, tattooed, drop-dead gorgeous musician who doesn’t need a fake girlfriend. Yet here I am, in a borrowed dress, on his arm, pretending I belong in his glittering world.
The problem? Ryder Kane isn’t just playing along. His smoldering glances and teasing whispers feel all too real, and when he pulls me into his arms on the dance floor, the sparks are undeniable. I’m supposed to be helping him fix his image, not imagining what it would feel like if this was real.
But Ryder has secrets, ones that make me question why he agreed to this charade in the first place. The more I learn, the more I realize faking it with Ryder might not just be a bad idea—it might be the worst mistake of my life.
If I let myself fall for a rockstar, who’s going to be there to catch me?