Never meet your hero.
Especially if he’s the rockstar whose face decorated the walls of your teenage bedroom.
And don’t let him knock you up.
Everyone knows Gage Hill.
The womanizing music legend with a reckless, infamous reputation.
And I’m his new PR rep.
He’s hungover and irritable when we meet, and to add insult to injury, he hits on me.
What's more embarrassing is that I blush.
Cleaning up his image is my number one priority.
I don’t get goosebumps when he puts his hand on my waist at red carpet events.
My heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sings for sick children at the hospital.
And when I tumble into his bed, he does not break through the carefully crafted walls of my heart.
Oh who am I kidding…
An emotion much deeper than lust shines in his sapphire gaze.
And keeping my feelings for him at bay is like trying to outswim a hurricane.
Especially now that I’m carrying his baby.
