Sneak Peek - Faking It with the Billionaire Rockstar
I never expected to be fake engaged to a famous billionaire bad boy…
Nick Slater is every inch the rockstar and billionaire bad boy, loved by the world.
But to me, he’s my brother”s best friend who left town after our one hot, intoxicating night, without a word.
Now, he’s back—all grown up—and a single dad.
I try hard to resist his charm, but our spark is undeniable.
All it takes is one embrace, and he makes my head spin.
When the paparazzi spin a story about us, we agree on a fake engagement that will help his public image and my music career.
And while we’re “faking it,” Nick takes care of me in all the right ways.
His forbidden touch ignites a fire inside me that spreads through my body and soul.
Then reality hits when I learn he’s going to be a daddy again.
I”m falling head over heels for him.
But my brother will be upset when he finds out, and Nick will be returning to his “big city life” soon.
So, I can’t risk getting my heart broken again.
Or will Nick finally realize that this ”fake” love is actually real?
Click here and get it now:Faking It with the Billionaire Rockstar - A Single Dad, Brother’s Best Friend Romance
Chapter One - Nick
The moment I spot the sign, my body tenses.
“Are we there yet?”
“We’re getting there.”
My answer doesn’t match the enthusiasm of the question. But who can blame me? I still can’t believe that the place I abandoned years ago is the same place I’m driving toward now.
“Sweet Haven. This is it, isn’t it?”
I glance at the speaker behind me. She’s bouncing on her seat, an energetic creature who’s less than half my size. “Yes. That’s right.”
When we pass by the sign welcoming us to the small town in Tennessee, I hesitate. Should I praise her for reading well? What’s the general start of reading age for kids?
I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things about my five-year-old daughter since I met her just a week ago.
“What’s haven?”
“It means a refuge or sanctuary. A place of safety.”
“It’s a pretty name, Nick.”
My heart jolts, half-expecting to hear another word come out of her lips. Not Nick. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved, but whatever I feel about the matter, I need to start setting a good example.
“Jazzy, what did I tell you to call me?”
“Dad.” A pause. “Are you really my dad?”
“Yes.”
“How come you never visited me?”
There’s another jolt, this time of guilt. “Because I only found out you existed recently. And now your mom can’t take care of you.”
“Because she’s a junkie and sick. She’s in the hospital and doesn’t want me anymore.”
Jeez. Just how crappy were the adults in her life to expose her to that kind of conversation?
“It’s not that. Your mom loves you. But she can’t take care of you now, so I will take care of you now.” For good. “So, what do you want?”
“I want my mom.”
Pretty straightforward.
“And other than that?”
There’s another pause while she considers this.
“I want food. I’m hungry.”
“Okay. Then let’s grab something to eat.”
The diner seems like a good place for brunch. Being absent from this town for close to half of my life doesn’t make me an expert, but I assume the food tastes just as good as it did before. I look around.
It’s a small town. It’s a Southern town. Some of the houses and lawns have been renovated, but at the core, they look pretty much the same—picture-perfect, depicting a life that’s slow and takes its time.
Just like the old woman crossing the road in front of us.
She stops when we slow down for her, then shifts direction so she’s walking toward us instead. Recognition sparks. Last I saw her, she had black hair, but now it’s silver and combed back into a tight bun.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, then loosen. I roll down the window and give her an I’m-just-passing-by nod.
“Good morning.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you visiting the town or just passing by?”
“Visiting, Mrs. Simmons.”
The mention of her last name surprises her before recognition flares in her features, too. “Oh! You’re that boy in Mrs. Norris’s class. The one who set her table on fire.”
I bite back a wince. People still remember that?
“That’s right.”
Mrs. Simmons tilts her head as she scrutinizes me further. The narrowed eyes are gone, and in their place is a curiosity I know all too well.
“My granddaughter knows you. She said you’re some famous rockstar now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her lips purse. “I suppose I see the changes. You don’t look as messed up as you did before.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I offer her a smile.
Yes, I’m that rockstar. The one who started from scratch before soaring to fame until my life was never the same. The one whose songs charted and whose fans screamed and fainted whenever I stepped onstage. The billionaire who now lives a life of luxury like no other.
Also, the one whose negative image and relentless onslaught of paparazzi exposure made it impossible for me to keep staying there when Jazzy was tossed into my life.
Now here I am.
“Are you going back to your mama’s house, boy?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen that place inhabited since you left town. It must be dirty as sin now.” Her face lights up. “My inn’s not full. I can set you up there. You can meet my granddaughter.”
“I’ll be sure to meet her soon, Mrs. Simmons. And don’t worry about the house. I had it cleaned a few days ago.”
“Oh?”
“Professional cleaners. A quick in and out so they don’t bother anyone.” And don’t alert the townspeople ahead of my arrival, stirring a shitstorm of gossip.”
“I see. Are you staying here for good?”
“Just for a while. We’re taking a break.”
“Everyone needs a break.” Her gaze finally strays toward the backseat, where Jazzy’s watching her. Like everyone, I can see the old woman coming to the same conclusion, which isn’t avoidable since physical resemblances don’t lie. My back goes up, but my smile stays in place.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Simmons. You take care now.”
I wave, roll up the window, and cruise away before she can ask more questions. On second thought, maybe going to the diner isn’t such a good idea. It’s Jazzy’s first day here and I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.
“Who is she?”
“She’s Mrs. Simmons. Paula Simmons. Sweet old lady.” Town gossip. “You’ll like the people here.”
“I’m hungry, Dad.”
Dad, not Nick. That’s progress. I nod and turn a corner.
“You know what? I want us to stay home today. Let’s just grab some stuff at the supermarket and I’ll cook something for you.”
* * *
The supermarket’s bigger, its outdoor signs boasting discount prices and new items from the city at a reasonable price. I lower my cap over my head as I lead Jazzy with one hand and grab a basket with the other.
“So, what do you want to eat?”
“Pancakes. And waffles.”
“Okay.”
“And pizza. And burgers. And candies.”
I bite back a protest, reminding myself that I’m not that much of a healthy eater, either. “I can do pancakes and waffles. Burgers, too. But we can go to a pizza parlor next time.”
“And the candies?”
“Let’s go to the candy aisle and you can show me your favorites. Then we’ll pick three to take home.”
Jazzy frowns, her big brown eyes peering at me. “Why only three? Mom let me buy whatever candy I want.”
Her mom also let her hang out with her junkie friends and eat whatever they ate. The fury I felt when finding out about Jazzy’s existence being kept secret from me returns and tightens my chest, and it takes everything in me not to let the emotion out. I take a deep breath.
“Because three is a lucky number.”
She blinks. “It is?”
“It’s my lucky number.” I let her hand go and gesture at her, then wait until she walks closer and I can whisper in her ear. “Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“My birthday is on the 3rd of the month. I’m thirty-three. Three-three. My first house in New York and my studio in Nashville both have 3 in their building numbers, and they helped me get to where I am today. Oh, and I won a prize once at a party. The raffle number was three.”
“My birthday is also on the 3rd of the month.”
“I know.”
“Does that mean I’m lucky, too?”
“You could be.”
“What did you win at the party?”
“I won a fridge. It meant a lot to me back then.”
She mulls this over, and I marvel at the way her lower lip juts out, similar to the way mine does. “Can three be my lucky number, too?”
“Sure, it can. It’ll just be our little secret, okay?”
“So that no one else gets lucky?”
Oh, boy. “No, other people can have other lucky numbers. It’s just that it makes it more special if we share this one. We can secretly figure out the ways the number works for us.”
It’s like watching a puzzle click into place in her head as she visibly mulls it over again before finally nodding firmly. “I like that.”
“I like it, too.”
“Let’s get three candies, Dad.”
I bite back a smile at the surge of victory. “Okay.”
“And three pancakes, three waffles, three pizzas, and three burgers.”
So much for victory. Laughter rings in my chest and I have the strongest urge to pick her up and give her the biggest, tightest hug. But we haven’t gotten used to hugs yet, so I kiss her on the cheek instead.
“Sounds good. I’ll just buy three of everything for us to cook later.”
We get her three candies first, then make our way through the aisles. I would have wanted it to be a quick grab-and-go scenario, but it’s impossible between Jazzy wanting to take her time picking out what toppings she likes and me trying to see if there’s a healthier option. Is this what it feels like for all parents with a five-year-old daughter?
Shit. I have a daughter. It feels surreal and feels like the greatest gift in the world at the same time, knowing that I helped create her. Sure, it was out of blurry nights of frenzied sex with a woman I never loved, but that doesn’t matter.
I have a daughter. She’s mine to take care of and love, and I want to make up for the years I wasn’t there for her.
“This is whole wheat, and it has honey and chocolate chips. Don’t you think that’s better than this sugary cra—um, creation?”
“Can’t we take both?”
“No, sweetheart. It’s either the chocolate chips or the sprinkles.”
She pouts but eventually points at the waffle box with the chocolate chips. The stack of triumphs I’ve been getting—over grocery buys, of all things—inflates my ego and I’m grinning by the time I round the last aisle.
“Now, I haven’t tried making pizza yet, but we can buy some boxes to bake when we have time. I know your mom isn’t a fan of cheese…” I observe her face, taking my cue. “But I particularly love a lot of cheese in mine. Shall we get that kind?”
She lights up like a bulb, and my heart swells.
“Sweet! Cheese is awesome!”
She runs to the next aisle, giddy. I walk faster to follow her—and slam into a body that turns the corner I’m headed to.
Normally, I step back and offer an apology, but the body’s so much smaller and already on its way to crashing to the ground. It’s a good thing my reflexes are quick as my hand snakes out to grab her waist and yank her toward me until we’re all pressed up.
She’s small, even up close. She’s also warm and soft, a combination that always pleases me when it comes to women. My hand tightens around her waist when she wriggles, but the action has my other hand sliding close to her butt.
She smells so good, too. Will she feel just as good if she parts her legs and wraps them around me? I can imagine it already and my cock stirs in response.
When was the last time I had this kind of attraction to someone? It feels like a long time ago. Hell, I haven’t slept with anyone in a while, too.
“I’m sorry about that.” My drawl’s extra low, tinged with the charm I’ve already turned on. “But you really should watch where you’re going, Miss…”
I’m too busy taking in her body that feels curvaceous as hell, emphasized by the floral, cotton dress she has on. Her breasts are amazing under that dress, and my fingers itch. But when she doesn’t respond, I finally look up to soft, kissable lips, a pert nose…familiar hazel eyes that I know turn pure green in the sunlight.
I should know since I always snuck glances at her when no one was looking.
There’s a stupefied jolt in my body. My cock more than stirs this time, but my brain screams at me. Because this isn’t just any ordinary woman I can charm the panties off of.
The woman in my arms is my best friend’s sister—and the woman I slept with twelve years ago before I left this godforsaken town.