𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 by Christina Hovland is releasing on April 29th!! Don’t forget to pre-order yours!
Jeremy Dillion—a.k.a. Knox—has no intention of succumbing to wedded bliss. Gag, no. His parents divorced when he was young and the only stability in his life comes from his bandmates. But now they’re finding their own forever sweethearts, and Knox is feeling the heat of being a lone wolf in a group effort. Still, an actual relationship? No. Ick.
Irina Carmichael is ready for her big break. The problem is no one takes a second look at her, since she doesn’t fit into the general mold created for Hollywood starlets. Her hips are too big, her nose is too sharp, and her lips are too wide. But she’s so ready to step out of the background and into the spotlight.
When Knox gets trashed in the tabloids, his publicist pitches the idea of an image-saving marriage to Irina. Irina figures the publicity can't hurt and accepts—until the offers for major roles start pouring in, and she doesn’t need the arrangement. Unfortunately, Knox has broken the first rule of marrying an actress for publicity: don’t fall in love. But can he handle a real relationship? And is she ready to stop pretending?
“You brought me a crappy crepe!” Bonus, she didn’t have to eat it with his scary mother.
His eyes glittered with…was that pride? That was totally pride.
She leaned in and brushed her lips at his cheek. Unfortunately, he turned his head as she moved. She didn’t want another nose collision, so she pivoted close and her mouth landed smack against his.
He jolted a little, didn’t move, but he didn’t move away either.
If they were a real couple, she’d reward him for bringing her a crappy crepe by giving him a serious kiss. The kind that wasn’t chaste or a quick peck.
What the hell. This was a show, right?
She parted her lips, moaned a little because it felt right, and deepened the kiss when he went right along with it.
She’d never really enjoyed kissing parts before on set or stage, they were just another thing to do. But this was different.
Another moan and that’s all she got to do before Knox took over. Oh boy, did he take over. There was tongue in all the right spots, hands skimming her jawline to places along her neck she did not know were erogenous. She groaned into his mouth, and it wasn’t the least bit for show. No, he coaxed that out of her with a substantial amount of skill.
And then…she attempted to sort out what that might mean.
Before she formed even the slightest cohesive thought, he pulled away. Hands clasped behind his head, he kicked back.
“Enjoy your crappy crepe, Noodle Cup.”
“You don’t want to give me a score?” she asked, cautiously.
“Say what you need to say. Think what you need to think.” He opened his eyes, stared straight into her soul. “But that second moan wasn’t fake, so I know it was a ten for us both.”
“How would you know what’s real and what isn’t? I’m a professional at convincing people to believe what I want them to believe.” She’d been through a crapload of workshops, classes, and school to learn her craft.
“Tell yourself whatever you need to tell yourself.” He winked. Then closed his eyes. “I know the truth.”
She didn’t really like that.
But what was it she didn’t like?
Did she not like that he was correct? Or was it that he called her out on it? That she wanted more of him and wished the kiss had been real?
Her mouth tasted like sawdust, and not the good Knox scent, either.
Knox sat there with his eyes closed.
She leaned over and brushed her mouth against his cheek. “Knox?”
“Hey.” He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze.
“I thought you might want a bite of my crappy crepe.” The cellophane wrapper crackled when she removed the red plastic spork with a great deal of flair.
“I’ll try anything once.” Knox moved back into her personal space and…actually…she should’ve let him snooze.
Because now she was all upside down again.
Using the edge of the spork, she tried to cut at the crepe. It wasn’t budging and the head of the utensil broke clean off. This was ridiculous.
“They really do make them crappy, don’t they?” Knox grinned a wicked grin.
Uh-huh. She picked up strawberry with her fingertips, tore off a piece of crepe, wrapped it together and held it to Knox’s mouth.
The look of surprise in his eyes was 100 percent worth the broken plasticware.
He parted his lips.
In for a penny, in for a pound. She slipped the bite inside and lingered for a moment in clear invitation for him to close around her fingers.
He didn’t disappoint, but he didn’t only close around her fingers. Oh no, that would’ve been too normal. If she’d learned anything, Knox never went with the expected.
He clasped her wrist as he licked residual Nutella from her skin. If he kept that up too much longer, she probably would end up arrested for indecent exposure and illicit sounds.
“Oh, look at that.” She pulled her wrist from his grip. “Can you believe it’s time to board?”
Close to time.
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