by Abby Brooks
Paparazzi.
In Grayson, Ohio.
They scurry forward like a swarm of ants every time the doors open, cameras flashing madly, calling out Liam McGuire’s name like a battle cry. When they discover the infamous pop star isn’t coming out to show off his new badass scar and flash his so-charming-it-should-be-patented smile, they collectively groan and retreat as if to lick their wounds and prepare for the next time those doors swing open.
Lexi widens her eyes at me as she throws her trash in the bin. “Can you imagine how much attention you’d get if these people knew you’re one of his nurses?”
A little strum of panic tangles up with my lunch and bounces around my stomach. “You keep your mouth shut, you hear me?” Lexi loves the spotlight. Me? No thank you.
“Fine,” she says, pouting. “But you’re throwing away an opportunity here. This could be your fifteen minutes of fame.”
I link arms with my best friend and we saunter out of the cafeteria. “Nah. I’m saving my fifteen minutes for something way better than this.”
“You say that now, but I bet when you’re old and gray you’ll realize you squandered an opportunity here.”
“I’m glad to see you have so much faith in me. That you think the best I’m ever going to be is a nurse to some spoiled brat of a pop star.”
“I have more faith in you than you have in yourself, you dingbat,” Lexi replies as we arrive at the nurse’s station.
“Of course, his call light is on.” I let out a little growl of frustration. “When isn’t it on?”
Lexi shakes her head. “You are the only female between the ages of fifteen and one hundred to be upset because she has to spend too much time with Liam McGuire.”
“I doubt that,” I say before I head down to his room at the end of the hall.
I don’t know if it’s because he’s been famous since he was fourteen and all the attention spoiled him, or if he’s just got asshole in his genes, but it only takes a minute or two of being around the guy to get my hackles up. I don’t care how good looking he is or how well he can sing, if you’re ugly on the inside, you’re ugly on the outside.
Although, for as much as I can’t stand the guy, there is a small part of me that does feel a little bit sorry for him. A very small part. And just a tiny little bit. I mean, the guy survived an accident that may or may not alter the course of his life. His tour bus swerved off the road just outside of Grayson and rolled over a few times. Everyone survived, although after seeing pictures of the bus, I don’t know how. The thing was just a garbled piece of twisted metal and broken glass.
Liam suffered a concussion and a wicked gash that runs from his hairline to his chin that should have taken his eye but didn’t. All the doctors keep muttering about how lucky he is, but I don’t know if they’ve really thought it through. For a guy who makes his living off his looks, an injury like that is probably devastating. I don’t think I could be human and not feel a tiny bit bad for him.
But like I said, just a tiny bit.
Ready for more? Tap here to one-click Wounded!
Brookside Romance
Wounded
Inevitably You
This Is Why
Along Comes Trouble
Come Home To Me
Wilde Boys Series with Will Wright
Taking What Is Mine
Claiming What Is Mine
Protecting What Is Mine
Defending What Is Mine
The Moore Family Series
Blown Away (Ian and Juliet)
Carried Away (James and Ellie)
Swept Away (Harry and Willow)
Break Away (Lilah and Cole)
Purely Wicked (Ashley & Jackson)
The London Sisters Series
Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)
Love Is Beautiful (Chelsea & Max)
Love Is Everything (Maya & Hudson)
Immortal Memories
Immortal Memories Part 1
Immortal Memories Part 2
As Wren Williams
Bad, Bad Prince
Woodsman
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband—you love me enough to tell me when I’m failing, then cheer me on when things start to come together. I love how we are, who I am with you. There is a distinct delineation in my life, the time before you and the time since you. I never want to go back. Thank you for the hours, days, and weeks you’ve spent with these words, helping me shape this story into what it needed to be. I love you with all that I am.
Thank you to my children. You guys make me feel like a superstar—even when I spend the day in my pajamas, staring like a madwoman at my laptop. I adore you.
Thank you to Joyce, Linda, Jackie, Nickiann, and Candy. Over the years, you’ve read a lot of my less-than-perfect work. Thank you for diving into weird characters, and strange plots, with unusual choices, then being free with your feedback. My books, these characters, they THRIVE because of you.
Thank you to Sarah Hershman, my agent. I appreciate all the hustle you do for me behind the scenes.
And to Stephanie, Zuul, Darlene, Hazel, Stormi, Elaine, Vanessa, Cynthia, Suzanne, and Fleur. Thank you for your support!
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