PRAISE FOR THE #LOVESTRUCK NOVELS
Wilson has mastered the art of creating a romance that manages to be both sexy and sweet, and her novel’s skillfully drawn characters, deliciously snarky sense of humor, and vividly evoked music-business settings add up to a supremely satisfying love story that will be music to romance readers’ ears.
—Booklist, starred review, #Moonstruck
Making excellent use of sassy banter, hilarious texts, and a breezy style, Wilson’s energetic story brims with sexual tension and takes readers on a musical road trip that will leave them smiling. Perfect as well for YA and new adult collections.
—Library Journal, #Moonstruck
#Moonstruck is delightfully entertaining with banter and sizzle. Sariah Wilson definitely dials up the heat and tension with this fake relationship. Ms. Wilson developed a great cast of characters in Maisy’s siblings and friends with a cameo of Zoe and Chase from #Starstruck. #Moonstruck can be read as a standalone in the #Lovestruck series. Fans of Lauren Layne, Erika Kelly, and LuAnn McLane will enjoy #Moonstruck.
—Harlequin Junkie, #Moonstruck
#Moonstruck is a deeply romantic and dazzling love story. This heroine has to undergo some personal growth and work through her emotional baggage in order to get the man she wants and accept love. This is a great character-driven story for romance fans to devour.
—Fresh Fiction, #Moonstruck
#Starstruck is oh so funny! Sariah Wilson created an entertaining story with great banter that I didn’t want to put down. Ms. Wilson provided a diverse cast of characters in their friends and family. Fans of Sweet Cheeks by K. Bromberg and Ruthie Knox will enjoy #Starstruck.
—Harlequin Junkie, 4.5 stars, #Starstruck
OTHER TITLES BY SARIAH WILSON
The #Lovestruck Novels
#Starstruck
#Moonstruck
#Awestruck
The Royals of Monterra
Royal Date
Royal Chase
Royal Games
Royal Design
The Ugly Stepsister Series
The Ugly Stepsister Strikes Back
The Promposal
Stand-Alone Novels
Once Upon a Time Travel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2019 by Sariah Wilson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542040006
ISBN-10: 1542040000
Cover design by Erin Dameron Hill
Cover photography by Wander Aguiar
For Kameron,
Even though I know you’ll never read this story
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
“Someone in this room is going to prove that Evan Dawson is not a virgin.”
Even though my boss sounded completely serious, I couldn’t stop my snicker from escaping. This was why she had called an emergency meeting? Who cared? Evan Dawson had done so much worse than possibly lie about whether or not he’d done it.
“Ashton?” Brenda raised one eyebrow at me from behind her black-rimmed glasses. “You have something you wanted to say?”
The gaze of every intern currently working for the Portland, Oregon, branch of ISEN (International Sports and Entertainment Network) landed on me, and I coughed to hide my discomfort at being called out.
I fought the urge to pull down my ponytail and cover my face in a curtain of red hair. “No, I didn’t. Sorry.”
Brenda nodded briefly, satisfied that she’d shut me up so quickly. She was not a woman anyone crossed, for any reason. There was the minor fact that her grandfather owned ISEN, her dad was the current CEO, and she was his only child. Someday the entire national company would all be hers, and she never let us forget it. Her dad had required her to “work her way up,” and among other responsibilities, she was in charge of the intern program for this branch. It was common knowledge that if we played ball and made her happy, we would have the job of our choosing in whatever department we wanted.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’d wanted nothing more than to be the official announcer for the Portland Lumberjacks.
Brenda had the power to make that happen for me.
As long as I played along.
And apparently what she wanted was to discredit Evan “Awesome” Dawson, the quarterback for my beloved Jacks and one of the best players in the entire NFL.
Brenda went on. “For years Evan’s been playing up his aw-shucks, boy-next-door, wholesome white-bread routine to sell sports drinks, cars, and anything else that might appeal to flyover states. And I don’t believe him. I think he’s lying, and we’re going to prove it. And our ratings will go through the roof.”
Ah, the ratings. One night after work, Brenda had gone out with us lowly interns and gotten tipsier than she’d probably intended. She’d confided that she was determined to make our ratings skyrocket, forcing her casually sexist grandpa and dad to pay attention to her and what she was capable of. That she was sure if she could break one great story or scandal, they’d finally get over the fact that she was a woman, and she’d get promoted to a vice president position.
It looked like she intended to use Evan to get there.
An image of Evan flashed up on the screen behind Brenda, and I knew why she didn’t believe him. To say he was gorgeous would have been seriously underselling it. Tall, athletic body that looked like it had been carved from a boulder, chiseled jaw, bright-blue eyes, and dark-brown hair. A bank account that bred zeroes. And that all-American smile that still, after all these years, made me a little weak in the ovaries.
The world should have been his own personal sex-musement park to which he had a season pass. It was definitely hard to buy that one of the most perfect male specimens to ever walk the earth was an actual virgin.
But I knew what a jerk he was underneath that pretty, polished exterior, and I was down for whatever evil plans Brenda had. Especially if they meant my getting the chance someday to work with Scooter Buxton, voice of the Jacks.
“Isn’t that his story to tell or not tell?” Talia, the only other female intern, spoke up. “I mean, if he were a woman, this isn’t even a conversation we’d be having. We’d be applauding his commitment to his personal choices, not trying to prove that he must be a liar.”
Much as I was up for destro
ying Evan Dawson’s life the way he had once ruined mine, Talia might have had a tiny point.
Given that scary look currently brewing on Brenda’s face, she did not agree. “This is the story. Feel free to excuse yourself from pitching if you have such an issue with it.” I wondered whether Talia would be fired at the end of the day or if Brenda would be generous and wait until Friday. Our boss did not enjoy being challenged. “Pitches will start in twenty minutes. I’ll assign the person who can best show me how you’ll get this story. And you know I take care of people who deliver. Get to work!”
It was actually a little unfair how I was about to get assigned to this story and beat out every other intern. There was no conversation as everyone rushed back to their cubicles and started typing on their computers and phones. I did some cursory research on Evan’s stats for the season so far, but there was little else I had to do.
Because I’d gone to high school with Evan Dawson. I knew him. Not biblically, obviously. Because then I could have marched into Brenda’s office and won her approval.
But I’d known him. I’d been head over heels in love with him.
And he’d broken my heart in the most public, most humiliating way imaginable.
I’d hated him ever since.
No one in this room knew him the way that I had.
And no one else had the same kind of connections that I did.
I considered my options in exposing him as a liar. There was the obvious—seduction. Getting him into bed would be proof he wasn’t a virgin. And mildly tempting as that icky idea might have been, if gossip was to be believed, many had tried, but none had been chosen.
It shocked me a little that my mind went there first—considering doing something gross and unethical. But I’d played by the rules once before. I’d lost out on multiple internships while I was still in college to boys who were willing to do whatever it took to succeed. Who would lie, cheat, steal, and basically sell their own mothers if it meant getting the job. I’d tried succeeding on my own merits. It hadn’t worked. Ruthlessness and naked ambition superseded everything else, as one recruiter had told me, saying I wasn’t cut out for sports reporting.
But I had to succeed. It was all my grandma had talked about since I was a kid—how I would reach the highest echelons of success in this industry, something she’d never been able to accomplish. Which couldn’t happen if I didn’t find somewhere willing to take me on.
With ISEN I’d traded on my family name and the charitable organization my grandmother had started. I would have done a lot worse just for a chance. Multiple, constant rejections did that to a girl. Women already had a hard time getting a foot in the door in this industry; now that I had finally made it inside, I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away from me. I would be ruthless. I would be ambitious and driven and do what I had to do to succeed.
But sleeping with Evan was a step too far, even for me. I considered trying to get one of his teammates to rat him out, but the guys on the team would be a dead end. The players would protect their beloved QB at all costs. He had led them to four Super Bowl wins in the last few years, and no one wanted that particular train to be derailed. Although I was willing to take the chance if it meant getting him out of Portland permanently. Our backup QB would be just fine.
Which left the wives and girlfriends (WAGs) of the Jacks. They would know the gossip. They would have heard things they didn’t let get out to the general public. I didn’t know any of the WAGs personally, but I knew someone who did.
I picked up my phone and called my older sister on her cell. It rang once before she answered.
“Aubrey Bailey-Price.” Why did she answer that way? Like, she could obviously see it was me calling. Why was she all lawyer all the time?
“Hey, Aubrey. It’s Ashton.”
“I know.” Aha! See? Totally called it. “What do you need?”
“Why do you assume I need something? Can’t I just be calling to say hi?”
She let out a long sigh, and I could just see her pinching the bridge of her nose, as she so often did in conversations with me. “I’m in the middle of something important, so if you could quickly get to why you’re calling me, that would be great.”
“Last year you did some work for Malik Owens. Something you said he and his wife, Nia, owed you for.”
I held my breath, waiting for her response. Aubrey took her attorney-client confidentiality very seriously, and the only reason I knew even that little bit about the Jacks’ defensive end was because she had been a tad bit drunk, and I had pressed her for information.
“How did you . . .” she sputtered, obviously not remembering what she’d told me. “I never would have . . .”
“I don’t know the specifics, and you don’t have to give them to me. But I need your help. I have to find an in with the Jacks. I’ve got to get some intel on one of the players, and the women are my best way in. If they owe you, I need you to call in that favor with Nia and set up a meeting.”
“Which player are you trying to get intel on?”
I hesitated, not knowing which way this would go. Aubrey had been friends with Evan in high school, which was how I had known him. He, along with half the football team and cheerleading squad, had hung out at our house all the time. It was how I had developed such a serious crush on him.
“Evan Dawson.”
“Really?” She sounded both surprised and, worryingly enough, delighted. My whole family knew the saga of Ashton and Evan—how he had shattered my teenage heart and single-handedly destroyed my entire high school experience. Aubrey, for some reason, had always thought that I had overreacted to the whole situation because I’d been, in her words, “so unbelievably young” and that I should have let Evan apologize to me when he’d tried to.
“Yes, really. Are you going to do it or not?”
There was a long pause, and I wondered if she had hung up on me. “What am I supposed to tell Nia?”
Yes! I threw my free hand in the air. Getting Aubrey to even consider it felt like a total win. “Just tell her you have a younger sister who recently graduated with a degree in broadcasting and communications who loves football and wants to get an insider’s peek into the lives of NFL players and their significant others.”
All true. So it technically wasn’t lying.
Another long, quiet pause. “And what’s in it for me?”
“Uh, undying love, adoration, and worship from your younger sister?”
“Rory already adores and worships me.”
“Debatable, since both activities would probably entail holding still for longer than ten seconds.” Our younger sister had the attention span of a gnat on coke. She was like what would happen if a fidget spinner could procreate. “And did you just make a joke?” It was very un-Aubrey-like.
“Possibly.” She sounded pleased with herself, which was good because it meant this was going well.
Until it didn’t.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I have this huge case I’m working on, and I’m in the middle of depositions right now, and it’s taking up all my time. Problem is, I’m also on the planning committee for the upcoming ten-year reunion. If you promise to help me out with the reunion however and whenever I want, I will set something up with Nia Owens.”
It was difficult to know how to respond. I wanted to thank her, get off the phone before more damage was done, and just pay her steep price in order to make this happen.
The other part of me knew how dangerous it was to give Aubrey a blank check like this.
But beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I promise. Whatever you ask me to do to help out with your high school reunion, I will do it.”
“Without question.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, without question, oh mighty master.”
“Excellent. You’ll be hearing from me soon.” We hung up, and I had a serious moment of dread as I tried to imagine what sort of demented Aubrey-dictated nightscape I’d just agreed to.
I
began typing up a generic outline and waited at my cubicle for my chance to pitch Brenda.
A head popped up above my shared wall, surprising me. It was my work husband, Rand. Which I’d thought was a stupid name until I found out his actual name was Randolph, and at that point, I no longer blamed him for shortening it.
“What are you going to say?” he asked. Rand was cute, in a metro-lumberjack kind of way. Thick beard, light-brown hair, brown eyes, lots of ironic flannel.
“As if I’d tell you,” I scoffed. We’d been flirting for a few months, but I knew nothing would ever come of it. Because I suspected that he would have slit my throat and walked over my bleeding-out corpse to get ahead at this network. So would every other intern on the floor, so I couldn’t blame him for that, either. “But I am going to win the assignment, just so you know not to waste your time.”
His eyes narrowed at me in wry amusement. “What? You think because you’re young and hot you’ll get chosen? Brenda doesn’t swing that way.”
Thanks to my ridiculously fair skin, I could feel the blush starting at my throat and working its way up to my cheeks. I didn’t really think of myself as hot. I wasn’t a troll or anything—I was tall and had red hair, hazel eyes, and a decent figure, given how often I worked out or played sports. I’d even had a couple of semiserious boyfriends in college. But thanks to Evan and his buddies, in the deepest, most private part of me, I couldn’t see myself as anything other than some ugly, pathetic wannabe.
“It’s because I’m better at my job than you,” I finally managed when the blush died down. Sometimes it felt like Rand flirted with me just because he enjoyed making me flush fifty different shades of red.
“We’ll see,” he said with a wink, going off to pitch his take on Evan’s story.
I waited about half an hour longer, drumming my fingers on my desk. The line outside of Brenda’s office had cleared, and I made my way over to her door.
Which was open, so it wasn’t my fault for eavesdropping. Although it wasn’t really eavesdropping; it was just standing somewhere that the two women inside couldn’t see me and holding really still while listening intently.
#Awestruck (A #Lovestruck Novel) Page 1