So many people have supported me in my writing passion, cheering and championing me all along the way. To name a few: my best friend, Rena; my mom; Gladys & Ron; my kickass sister-in-law, Brittany; my lifelong friend and cheerleader, Marjorie. Thank you to Brent for helping me to better understand that mysterious being known as a bass player. To my many other friends who continue to support me, thank you for all the love! I’d be lonely in my author’s cave without you.
To my book club girls: Maureen, Lauren, Christina, Josephine, Catherine, Guinevere, Jenn and Courtney… thank you for all the love, the ladies’ nights, the great conversation, the camaraderie and support of my books.
Guinevere and Rena, thank you, as always, for beta reading. Get ready; the next one is coming, soon!
Thank you to Mr. Diamond for beta reading, for the ginormous wall calendar, for the best business meetings ever, for sharing a dream, for being a sounding board and a pillar of strength, for so much support and belief in me and what I love to do, and for just getting it. Because of you, it’s all happening. Love you.
Sneak Peek: Dirty Like Me
If you haven’t read them all yet,
check out the other deliciously addictive books in the Dirty series!
Dirty Like Me (Dirty #1)
A gorgeous rock star. An indecent proposal. How can a girl resist?
Struggling barista Katie Bloom doesn’t even know who Jesse Mayes is until she inadvertently wins the coveted role of sex kitten in his hot new music video. But by the time she’s in bed with him, she knows his reputation.
Love maker. Heartbreaker.
Making out with a stranger in front of a camera crew isn’t how Katie imagined herself getting over a broken heart, but when Jesse touches her, sparks fly. The sex is fake but the chemistry is real, and soon the steamy video is blazing up the charts.
Then Jesse makes Katie an irresistible offer: act as his girlfriend for six weeks while he promotes his new album. The only catch? Their sizzling make-out sessions will be for the cameras only.
Which is fine with Katie, since she's not about to trust her heart to rock's most legendary lover. Her body? Maybe…
DIRTY LIKE ME
CHAPTER ONE
Katie
I didn’t mean to crash the meeting.
I fully intended to knock before entering, like a civilized person. Max had other plans. For one thing he was a dog, and for another he knew we were dropping in on my best friend, Devi. Devi was a total babe, and Max totally dug hot babes. One glimpse of the door to her office, which was ajar, and he streaked past the front desk, big wet tail wagging, startling a couple of Devi’s co-workers.
“On it!” I blurted, diving after him, but he’d already hip-checked the door open. By the time I caught up, my wayward black lab was shaking off his rain-wet fur in a flurry of excitement, spraying Devi and the three other people standing in her office. I made a mad grab for his collar.
I missed.
Hovering awkwardly on the threshold, I clutched the tin of miniature pies I’d been unpacking in the lobby and mouthed a Sorry! at my BFF.
“Hey, Katie!” Devi smiled brightly, tussling Max’s ears with a friendly pat. “Max! Aren’t you wet.” She shot me a look that said something like, Nice to see you, but what the hell?
“Um… hi,” I said. Devi was a talent agent; her agency repped models and actors, so I was used to running into beautiful people in her office. Though I didn’t usually crash her meetings with my dog, wet and disheveled in my paint-stained jeans. “Sorry about my dog. Come on, Max.” I gave Max the get-your-furry-butt-over-here look, a look he knew well but completely ignored, since Devi and her pretty female guest were now loving him up.
“No problem. We were just finishing up.” Devi gestured for me to stay put, though I really just wanted to grab my delinquent dog and get the hell out of there. I felt ridiculously conspicuous in my white tank top, which I’d regretted wearing about two seconds after it started raining. As Devi wrapped things up with her guests, I took stock. Yep. Purple bra totally showing through my now-transparent tank.
Great.
Devi was shaking hands with the built dude in the short-sleeve button-down, and I noticed some tattoos on his muscular arm, but that was about it. My attention had already snapped to the other guy as some unconscious, primal part of me registered his hotness before the rest of me could catch up.
Plus, he was staring at me.
Or at least, my see-through shirt.
Devi strode to the door to see her guests out and I stepped aside, holding my tin of pies, trying to disappear into the wall. He was coming at me. Tall and broad-shouldered, his thick, dark hair in unkempt waves that gave him a decidedly just-fucked look, like some lucky bitch had just clawed through it. Totally worked on him. He wore a fitted black T-shirt, which I swore I could see his well-defined abs through, and ripped, dark jeans molded to his long, hard thighs…
My brain must have short-circuited, because my gaze got stuck on the package in the front of those jeans. When I looked up, his molasses-dark eyes were locked on mine. He stopped a foot in front of me and stared.
Fair enough, since he’d just caught me checking him out like a horny perv.
I cleared my throat, which was suddenly tight. “Pie?” I fumbled with the tin, lifting it between us, blocking his view of my bra. “They’re cherry.”
He glanced in the tin, where two dozen hand-crafted miniature pies were neatly arranged, my signature cherry filling peeking out through the crisscrossed pastry tops. Then his gaze lifted to mine again. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. High cheekbones. Luscious, kissable lips. Strong jaw shadowed with dark stubble, like he hadn’t shaved in days. And those beautiful dark eyes, smoldering at me and making me blush, big time.
“Maybe another time,” he said, the deep, sexy rumble of his voice stirring parts of my anatomy that hadn’t been stirred in a crazy long time. I noticed something tick against his teeth as he gave me a faint yet heart-stopping smile. A piercing?
No. Candy.
Cinnamon. His breath smelled like cinnamon.
I glanced over at Devi. She and the others were standing in the doorway, staring at us.
Max, ever the opportunist, snuffled into the hand of the hottest guy in the world as I stood there, dazed. I noticed the big, silver rings on his fingers as he stroked Max’s velvety ears, and the tattoo on his wrist, a pair of dark wings wrapped around his strong forearm.
“Come on, Max.” I pulled Max back so he could get by. “Sorry. He, um, likes you.” Normally Max preferred the ladies, but I could hardly fault his taste.
The hottest guy on the planet said nothing. He didn’t really get a chance before the ever-charming Devi intervened and herded all three of them out the door.
I set my tin of mini pies on Devi’s desk, feeling kind of windblown, like I’d just stepped in out of a storm rather than a light Vancouver mist. Really, a girl should be warned before a guy that hot gave her the most thorough eye-fucking of her life.
Did I really offer him pie?
Cherry pie?
Ugh. So fucking smooth.
I tidied Max into an obedient ball on the rug beneath the desk and willed him to stay put as Devi returned, shutting the door behind herself.
“I know,” she gushed. “So fucking hot, right?”
Um, yeah. But I knew better than to answer that honestly. The last time I casually inquired about a hot guy I glimpsed at my best friend’s office, she took it upon herself to hook the two of us up on a blind date. And when a hot male model gets set up with someone he assumes will be some equally hot female model, but turns out to be just some regular girl, things do not go well. For the regular girl.
Luckily, Devi didn’t even wait for my response. “Jesus, Katie.” She strode over, a takeout coffee cup in each hand. “What the hell?”
“I know. Max just bolted for your office—”
“Not that.” She gave me a no-contact air hug, the
n glanced down at my chest. “You look like a sexy drowned rat. Heard of an umbrella?”
“My hands were full.”
Devi scowled. “Do not tell me you rode your skateboard in the rain. I hate it when you do that.”
I rolled my eyes a little. My glamorous best friend had never understood my love affair with my skateboard. Of course, she drove a luxury SUV her parents bought for her and lived in her own suite in their giant house, so she didn’t exactly relate to my thriftiness. In the case of my preferred mode of transportation, she just saw it as risky behavior. Unfortunately, my big sister agreed with her. “Becca already gave me the lecture when I stopped to pick up the coffees.”
Devi set my cherry-vanilla latte on the desk with a little harrumph and eyed the mini pies with suspicion. “You’ve been baking.”
“Just some pies.” I flopped into one of the chairs facing the desk, which still had hot guy pheromones all over it. I sucked back a deep breath, savoring the lingering scents of cinnamon, leather, and the faint, intoxicating musk of a warm, clean male.
“Katie.”
“What?” I glanced up; Devi was studying me accusingly.
“Just pie?”
“And some scones.”
She raised a slender eyebrow.
“And a few cookies,” I added.
“What flavor?”
“Chocolate chip.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And pecan butter ripple.”
“I knew it. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You look…” Devi looked at me sideways. “Horny.”
“I am not horny,” I lied. Who wouldn’t be after getting eye-fucked like that? My head was still dangerously deprived of blood.
Devi sat down behind her desk. She looked gorgeous, as always, her dark hair smoothed out, flawless cappuccino skin set off with velvety red lipstick, sleeveless black top tricked out with a chunky necklace and leopard-print leggings, all of which she’d probably worn specifically for the meeting she’d just had. Fashion was just one of the many ways Devi built rapport with people.
I, on the other hand, considered myself coordinated if I managed to pull on matching shoes.
“Spill.” She gathered up the slew of model photos that littered the surface of her desk, stuffing them into a file folder. “I’ve got like ten minutes before my next meeting. What’s up?”
“Nothing. We just miss you.” It was true; my best friend had been pulling a lot of overtime, which was great for her career but not so great for me.
“I miss you guys too.” She reached beneath the desk and pet Max. “But that’s not the reason you busted in here.”
“Again, sorry. Just wanted to talk to you. I figured this may be my only chance to do it face-to-face.”
“Talk about…?”
I took a breath and sighed. “I think… I may be ready.”
Devi lit up, then caught herself and cooled her reaction. “Oh?” She was trying really hard not to jump for joy. It was kind of cute.
“I know you’ve been telling me this for a long time. I just had to get there myself.”
“For sure.”
“For so long I just wasn’t ready, you know? And then maybe I was, sort of, but I was scared. And then it just got easy to keep avoiding it. But now…”
“Now?” Devi fluttered her dark eyelashes hopefully.
I sipped my latte. “Are you sure you have time for this?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Okay. I think I need to go on a date.”
“Halle-fucking-lujah!”
“Alright. Ugh. I’m so bad at this.” Just saying it out loud to Devi made me nervous. Especially when she got all sparkly about it.
“What? Dating?” Devi sipped her coffee, waving a manicured hand in the air. “You always say that, but you never date. How do you get good at anything unless you practice?” She waggled her eyebrows, making me grin.
When it came to dating, Devi was a total pro. I, on the other hand, was pretty much a born-again virgin, more or less by default.
“You’re going to meet someone who blows your lid off, babe. You just have to put yourself out there.” Devi’s cell phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen. “Oh! I should take this.” She picked up. “Hey, Maggie!”
I wandered over to the stack of magazines on the coffee table. These days, I was getting used to sharing Devi with her other life. Just one more hint from the universe that I needed to get a life of my own.
I sank onto the couch and flipped through a French Vogue. Max came to lay at my feet and I toed his soft fur with my sneaker. Devi was such a natural with people. She’d forgotten more hot men than I’d ever dreamed of meeting. The concept of not putting herself out there wouldn’t even cross her mind. But for me, the whole idea of exposing myself to rejection and failure made my stomach churn.
Still, she was right. I wasn’t about to meet guys sitting at home with my dog.
Not like I hadn’t tried.
“Okay? Oh. Okay…”
I glanced up at the odd tone in Devi’s voice. Bad news? Her eyes met mine, but I couldn’t quite read the look in them.
“Mm-hmm. Right. Okay… no, no problem. I totally understand.” I went back to my magazine while she finished up the conversation, which was brief and consisted of a lot of “Totally,” and “No problem,” and “Of course.”
I looked up again when Devi hung up. She was staring at her phone, like it might somehow explain to her what just happened. “Well. That was interesting.”
“A client?”
“No. Maggie Omura. You just met her. Kind of.”
“Oh.” Right. The pretty dark-haired waif with the hot guy and the even hotter guy. “Max liked her. Didn’t you, Max?” At the sound of his name, Max woofed contentedly.
Devi leaned back in her chair, assessing me. “You also just met Jesse Mayes, which you’re playing it awfully cool about.”
“Who?” I slurped whipped cream from the top of my coffee.
Devi sighed. “Honestly, Katie. Are you kidding me? Jesse Mayes?”
“What? That guy who just left?” I pretended to be enraptured with a deodorant ad in my magazine. “One of your models?”
“I wish. Jesse Mayes is only one of the hottest rock stars in the world and as an incredibly cool young person you should really know what I’m talking about.”
I assumed she added the “incredibly cool young person” comment since last week we got into an argument when she said my apartment looked like an old lady lived in it. And after I’d rigidly defended my music collection (on vinyl), my home phone (on a cord), and my TV (which didn’t exist), I realized she had a point, and maybe she was just scared of losing her best friend to spinsterhood at the age of twenty-four, which was probably a realistic fear.
I gave her my best stink eye anyway. “So?” Then I went back to my magazine, because in truth I had no idea who Jesse Mayes was. Other than the hottest guy in the known universe.
“So,” she said, “I thought you liked Dirty.”
“Dirty what?”
“The band. Dirty.”
“Oh. Who doesn’t?” I looked up again. “You mean, he’s in that band?” I knew music. Kind of prided myself on it. But people? People were Devi’s domain.
“He’s their lead guitarist. And he sings like a sexy beast.”
That, I could believe.
“He just put out a solo album and they’re shooting a music video in town. The woman they cast to star in it with him as his music video girlfriend bailed.” Devi tipped her pretty nose in the air. “Not from our agency, of course.”
“Of course,” I said, but she’d lost me somewhere around sexy beast. I was now trying to recall every Dirty song I knew, and imagining how Jesse Mayes would look playing guitar, and singing under a spotlight all covered in sweat.
“Anyway.” Devi sipped her coffee, eying me over the rim. “Long story short. I met Maggie at a party a while back. She works with Dirt
y as the assistant to their manager, you know, the dude with all the tattoos.”
Uh-huh. Hottie number two.
“She’s involved in a lot of their publicity and whatnot and naturally we’ve been in touch.”
“Naturally.”
“She called me up last night. They’re looking to recast, but they’re having some issues getting Mr. Rock Star to commit to what he wants. Maggie knew they’d be in the neighborhood today, so she took the opportunity to haul his ass in here and have him choose one of our girls.”
“That’ll be some lucky girl.” I kept flipping through the magazine, but I didn’t really see the pages. I was too busy trying to picture Jesse Mayes with his shirt off.
“Exactly. They just hired one of our models.”
“Well that’s good for you, right?”
“It’s great for me. Katie, pay attention.” Devi stood, came around her desk and took the Vogue from my hands. “They changed their minds. They just called to drop her.”
“Oh. Well, that’s shitty.” Why was Devi all up in my face about it?
She dropped the Vogue on the coffee table with a resounding splat. “They dropped her because they want you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jesse
If there was one thing I hated about being a rock star, it was shooting music videos.
They were tedious as hell, or more specifically, limbo. It was all hurry up and wait, all fucking day.
They were also total bullshit. I’d spent half the morning shooting take after take after take. Fake singing with my guitar, fake singing with my shirt off, fake singing with my guitar with my shirt off. And fake was a total fucking turn off.
I’d spent the rest of the morning on my phone in one of Brody’s spare bedrooms while the wardrobe girls dressed me up like a damn doll. Maggie had even gotten in on it, popping up between a couple of wardrobe racks with a pair of jeans that looked exactly like every other pair I’d tried on.
Dirty Like Seth: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 3) Page 32
