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I’d never been more grateful forit.
“Okay,” Isaid.
Shewasright, and I knewit.
I couldn’t let what happened to me almost two years ago on that shitty day, the day that was supposed to be the best day of my life but turned out to be the worst,ruinmylife.
And if I didn’t take drastic action, that was exactly what was going tohappen.
“I’m doingthis.”
I dabbed at my mouth with a tissue, making sure there was no trace of vomit on my made-up face as I studied myself in themirror.
“Fuckingright.”
“And by the way,” I told her, “I loveyou.”
I hung up and rinsed my mouth with some of the mouthwash that had been left, thanks to some small miracle, on the little tray of guesttoiletries.
Then I took a deep breath, opened the door, and went to make out with a rockstar.
GetDirty LikeMe
Sneak Peek: Dirty Like Brody
Dirty Like Brody (Dirty #2)
He was all she everwanted.
Then she broke hisheart…
As longtime manager of Dirty, the hottest rock band on the planet, gorgeous and brooding Brody Mason has had his share of beautiful women. Yet the only one he’s ever wanted is the one he never had—the one who tore his heartout.
Beautiful and elusive Jessa Mayes appears to have it all. Talent, money, and a glamorous life. But she also has a secret. Six years ago, sheran away—from her dream career as a songwriter with Dirty, and the only man she’s ever loved—without telling anyonewhy.
Now Jessa’sdoing the one thing she swore she’d never do. She’s coming home—to be a bridesmaid in her brother’s rock star wedding… and face the mistakes of herpast.
It won’t beeasy.
Love this intense neveris.
DIRTY LIKE BRODY
PROLOGUE
Jessa
Iwill never forgetthe first time he spoke tome.
I remember everything, right down to the music that was playing on the Discman I had tucked into the back of my jeans. (It was my brother’s new Chris Cornell album, and the song was “Can’t Change Me.”) When the bullies started taunting me I turned it up, but I still heard what theysaid.
I was eight years old, and the last girl on the playground anyone would ever guess would grow up to become a fashion model. Every day I came to school in clothes that were worn and usually a couple sizes too big for me, hand-me-downs, either from my brother or from Zane. When I wore their baggy clothes, the other kids didn’t spend so much time telling me how skinny Iwas.
But they said otherthings.
I was sitting alone in the playground after school when it happened, up on top of a climbing dome; my brother and his friends called it “Thunderdome” because they’d made a game of dangling like monkeys from the bars inside and kicking the crap out of each other. The bullies were standing at the bottom of Thunderdome, so I couldn’t even run away. They were big bullies. Fifth grade bullies, and while my brother, who was in seventh, would’ve intervened, he wasn’tthere.
“How come you got shit stains all over your jeans?” the dumb-looking one asked me, leaning on Thunderdome and looking bored. “Doesn’t your mom dolaundry?”
