Tagged Heart: A Fake Girlfriend Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Free Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Craving My Boss

  VIP: Taken By the Billionaire

  Other books from Safira Publishing

  About Tasha Fawkes

  About M. S. Parker

  Tagged Heart

  Tasha Fawkes

  M. S. Parker

  Safira Press

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Tasha Fawkes and M. S. Parker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Free Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Craving My Boss

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  VIP: Taken By the Billionaire

  Other books from Safira Publishing

  About Tasha Fawkes

  About M. S. Parker

  Free Book

  Get VIP: Taken By the Billionaire for free!

  https://tashafawkes.com/get-your-free-book

  One

  Brin

  Sweat prickled on my forehead. My legs burned, that delicious ache that always told me I'd given my all in the pursuit of perfection. The grand finale approached, a maelstrom of writhing bodies and swaying limbs as me and the other girls on stage reeled the audience in one last time. Afterwards, if we did our job right, they would be left just as breathless, just as dry with thirst, and just as flushed. It was what I loved about dancing burlesque, even when I didn't always love that I danced burlesque at all. Everyone's eyes were on us. We commanded the entire room, and with one jerk of a finger could entice any single one of our star-struck followers into doing whatever we wanted.

  I bent down, curving my spine just right as I pulled lazily back to my feet. Behind me, Chandra cracked a whip. I gave my best million dollars smile and circled my hips as the song increased in tempo.

  I could hardly see the darkened faces of my audience, though the candles flickering on each of the small round tables cast light and shadows over the features of those closest to the stage and allowed me some clarity. I let my gaze track around the room now, enjoying the bewitched expressions on every single face and feeling the beat pulse through me like a jungle drum.

  Then I saw him.

  Everyone in this place was staring at either me or one of the other five dancers on stage, so his eyes on mine shouldn't have been an unusual sight. I made eye contact with the audience all the time. Hell, it was a great way to titillate with a saucy smile and a wink, which always kept them coming back for more. He was different though.

  I nearly stumbled from the force of his stare, but quickly and smoothly regained my footing. I turned away to perform a few more steps but let my eyes fall back on him a moment later. He was still staring. I don't even know if I could call it just staring.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  He was just as intoxicated as everyone else, but it was more than that. He drew me in just as much as I did him, and it was wickedly unnatural in the way that all the really good things in life are.

  Maybe it was the fact that the candle gilded his hair, making the wavy mess of it like Rumpelstiltskin’s haystack on his head. Maybe it was how his creamy skin contrasted so heavily with eyes so dark, like infinite vortexes that sucked in the shadows around them. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem aware that the other dancers even existed. Other people looked at me like I was a part of the spectacle. When this guy looked at me, I couldn't help but feel that I was the spectacle.

  I needed to concentrate for my last few steps, so I regretfully tore my eyes away from his. It shouldn't have been as difficult as it was.

  Chandra and I pressed our backs to each other and sank to the floor, vaulting our fishnet-clad thighs and sparkly pumps toward the ceiling as the girls on either side of us did the same. The music stopped. The raucous applause began.

  I tried to casually glance around the room, hoping to catch a glimmer of the mysterious man in the front row without making eye contact again. He was still looking, this time with a sly tilt of his lip that made heat blossom in my chest. He looked familiar somehow, but I couldn't place him. Maybe that was why I was feeling this sudden intensity around him. Maybe it had nothing to do with the fact that his whole expression was suggestive, much too dark and lustful for such a public setting.

  Hell, maybe I just really needed to get laid.

  I rose back to my feet and did a quick bow with the girls. The soreness of my feet caught up with me the second we started backstage, and I let out a sigh of relief at the knowledge I'd be in my dressing room soon.

  Chandra crept up to my elbow, poking me. "Who was that guy?"

  "What guy?"

  Her bright blue eyes filled with mischief. "The one who couldn't take his eyes off you the entire time. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

  Was that a blush rising to my cheeks? No. It had to just be from the lights and all the exertion.

  "No idea," I said, leaving her to decide whether I meant I had no idea who she meant or no idea who he was.

  "Boo, you never tell me anything." She stuck out her lip in a teasing way, even though her smile never faltered.

  I laughed and nudged her, stopping at my dressing room door while she continued past. Chandra was a friendly girl, as were the rest of the ladies I performed with. I felt guilty for not wanting to engage more in their little gaggle of girlfriends, but when I left this place on a night, I wanted to completely leave it. Besides, my best friend, Kimberley, was more than enough friend for me.

  My shoes were the first to come off once I was inside my cramped little dressing room. I was just happy to have the whole place to myself. I'd thought about decorating the bare space on more than one occasion but could never seem to get the drive to do it. I felt as soon as I decorated my dressing room, my life as a burlesque dancer would become concrete and there'd be no backpedaling out of it. That was stupid, obviously, but I was also the kind of person who didn't walk under ladders even though I thought superstitions were a load of baloney.

  A woman of contradictio
n. A burlesque dancer who loved to dance and drank in attention like bubbly champagne but who was always unsatisfied, always reaching for more. Or at least something else. Maybe one of these days I'd figure it out.

  I had just sat down at my vanity to start removing my sparkly stage makeup when there was a knock at the door. I figured it was one of the other girls, probably wanting to borrow a hairbrush or something.

  “Come in!” I called.

  I couldn’t even be bothered to turn around. I was officially exhausted. More so than usual. It was like that little staring match with the guy from the audience had afforded me a hangover that greasy food and a glass of water were not going to fix.

  I watched the door open in the mirror, and my heart skipped a beat.

  He was taller than I had imagined him to be and so wide that he seemed to take up the whole doorway. I was intrigued to find that the golden shimmer of his hair had only dulled a little in the absence of warm candlelight, and even the violent fluorescents of the backstage hallway brought out something of the divine in his messy locks. Strawberry blond wasn't a hair color that I normally found attractive on a man, but he easily made it onto the list of exceptions. Up close, his broad jaw was covered in a thin ginger stubble, emphasizing his expressive mouth and those mischievous lips that had held my attention so perfectly.

  It took no more than a heartbeat or two for my eyes to reach his in the mirror, but it felt like a lifetime, and I was startled to find that they weren't nearly as dark as they'd looked from afar. In fact, his eyes were the most delicious shade of sapphire blue I'd ever seen, and I got stuck in them for a moment. When I finally managed to get unstuck, he was smirking at me. Cheeky bastard.

  "Hi," I said, bolting from my seat and hurriedly wrapping a robe around myself. It wasn't like he hadn't already seen most of my body on stage, but him being here was more intimate somehow. Even in my robe I felt completely exposed.

  "Hi," he said, mocking my alarmed cadence. He nudged the door behind him but left it open a crack. I gathered he could sense my unease.

  "Can I help you?" I crossed my arms uncertainly. Yet another contradiction—I could lay it out on stage, a confident queen, but once I was back to real life I apparently turned into a dithering school girl.

  "Great show," he said. His voice was honeyed and thick, with enough of a hoarse edge to make me want to lean in closer. He extended a hand toward me. "I'm Chad. Chad Harlan."

  Chad Harlan... Where did I know that name from?

  A light flicked on in my head, and my eyebrows shot for the sky.

  "The YouTube guy?"

  His amused smirk grew, and I kicked myself internally. The YouTube guy? I may as well have identified him as “that extreme sports dude” and called it a day.

  Chad Harlan was more than just a YouTube personality. He was a tour de force. Over the past few years his videos had earned him a large and dedicated fan base who logged on religiously each week to check out his latest video. I'd never sought out his videos but had stumbled upon a fair few here and there. His wit and contagious excitement always impressed me, even if extreme adventures weren't really my thing.

  Now I felt like an idiot for not recognizing him earlier. Then again, I'd never seen him make an expression so devious and lustful in one of his videos, so I had to give myself a little slack.

  "That's me," he said. "The one and only YouTube guy."

  I realized his hand was still extended and hurriedly reached out to shake it, probably a little more forcefully than necessary.

  "I'm sorry, I always get a little scatterbrained after a show," I said, wincing.

  He laughed. "I don't blame you. You're quite the performer."

  “I’m Brianne. Brianne Reed. Most people call me Brin.”

  I crossed my arms again and basked in his approval. Chad Harlan was without a doubt one of the coolest and most influential video bloggers out there. His opinion was not something to be taken lightly.

  "And thank you for your kind words." I smiled and hoped my makeup wasn't flaking too badly. "I love your videos. You're probably the only reason I would ever want to go skydiving."

  "Not much of a thrill seeker?"

  "The thrills I seek are more TV plot twists and when my favorite dairy-free ice cream goes on sale. Jumping out of a plane seems a little intense."

  His eyes flashed with amusement. "You'd be surprised."

  The sudden intensity of the moment made me clear my throat and take a tiny step back from him. I could practically feel his heat, and the heady scent of his cologne was slowly reaching for me in the small space and making my head all muddled. At least that was what I told myself.

  "I'm glad you liked the show," I said lamely. "I don't often get people coming back here to tell me that in person."

  "Admittedly, I've got an ulterior motive."

  My throat went dry. I cocked a questioning brow.

  Chad continued, thrusting his hands casually into the pockets of his tight-fitting jeans. He looked more at ease in the doorway of my dressing room than I'd ever looked in my life.

  "I'm heading out to Hawaii in a couple days to shoot some videos," he explained. "I’ll be there for three weeks. I want you to come with me and pretend to be my girlfriend."

  I should have guessed that an extreme adventure blogger would have no problem being direct. My mouth fell open, and I blinked in surprise.

  "Excuse me?"

  He grinned. "There's nothing my fans like more than seeing me and a beautiful woman having fun together, and Hawaii is the perfect place for that.”

  Chad must have interpreted the blank expression on my face as one of disinterest rather than surprise, since he barely took a breath before continuing. "The trip will be all expenses paid, of course, plus some spending money while we’re there. I know it's a strange arrangement, but I think you'd have a lot of fun."

  "But you don't even know me," I said finally, eyebrows coming down to form a crease on my forehead. "Why would you want me to be your fake girlfriend?"

  He shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. "It's like any acting job, really. Consider the show tonight your audition."

  Glittering bulbs flashed in my head. A three week trip to Hawaii? Exposure on Chad Harlan's YouTube page? And cash on top of that? I could barely breathe I was so excited, and the word "yes" kept trying to force its way up my throat. Impulsivity had never been the name of the game with me, and the sudden desire to toss all caution to the wind frightened me. I forced my excitement to take a back seat and met his gaze.

  "Can I take a day to think about it?" I asked.

  Chad nodded, though the curve of his mouth told me he suspected he'd already gotten me. I half wondered if he had too.

  “I’m heading out there early the morning after next, but we can always fly you in a day later. My crew won’t be getting there until then, anyway.”

  We exchanged numbers, and he flashed me a toothy grin that could have disarmed a nuclear bomb. I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from the doorway until his footsteps faded down the hallway, and only then did I gulp down a big mouthful of air.

  My fingers were dialing Kimberley’s number before my mind even caught up.

  "Hey girl," she answered. "How was the show?"

  "Can you come over?" I asked. "I've got kind of a crazy situation that I need your advice on."

  Two

  Brin

  Kimberley met me at the front door of my building a half hour later, holding a tray with two coffees in one hand and a delicious smelling paper bag in the other. I practically drifted over to her, drawn by the promise of a little pick-me-up. There would never be enough hours in the day to thank Kim for everything she'd done for me, and that wasn't even including tonight's treat.

  "You're an angel," I said, pulling my keys from my bag and letting us into the building.

  Kim grinned and made a little kissy face at me, long black hair rustling around her face in the dry breeze.

  "I figured it must be somethi
ng pretty urgent if you're not jumping straight into bed after your show."

  I snorted. "Important is one term you could use," I said. "Batshit crazy is another."

  She followed me over to the elevator. "Color me intrigued."

  I laughed, snagging a coffee from the tray as we stepped inside and took a cautionary sip. Finding the coffee to be the perfect temperature, I took a deep swig.

  "Color me very intrigued."

  The elevator let us off just down the hall from my apartment, and I tossed my keys in the bowl just inside the door and kicked my sneakers into the corner. Kim did the same and the two of us made our way over to my ancient leather couch, which gave a croaking wheeze as we settled onto it. This couch was the first piece of furniture I ever bought, for a whopping twenty dollars at the flea market. Despite Kim's criticism, I wouldn't be parted from it for the world. To this day, it still smelled like freedom.

  "So what's this big dilemma?" Kim rustled around in the paper bag and emerged with two glazed donuts. My mouth watered.

  She handed one to me, and I took a bite before answering, "Do you know who Chad Harlan is?"

  She took a sip of her coffee and leaned back into the sofa. "I've heard the name. He's one of those Internet celebrities, right?'

  "He's like, the Internet celebrity," I corrected. "He's all about extreme adventures and crazy stunts. People eat his shit up like it's candy."