FOREVER BOUND: Forever Series Book 4 (e-book)

Jenny is a girlfriend-for-hire, the platonic kind.

A new full-length standalone romance from the USA Today bestselling romance series

While under contract with her movie director boyfriend, glamour has ruled. Designer gowns. Red-carpet premieres. And, of course, seeing her face in the tabloids.

She loves tabloids.

But her reign has come to an end. Her sugar daddy has fallen in love -- with someone else. Her contract is over and tonight she has to end it publicly by making sure the paparazzi "catches" her with another man.

She just has to find the man.

Chance has been hitchhiking across the US, playing and singing for tips. This is the life he's always imagined, and the farther he gets from his disastrous family in Tennessee, the better he feels.

An unexpected invitation to sing with an indie blues group at a movie premiere party gives him a sweet taste of fame. As a bonus, a beautiful girl with pink dreadlocks only has eyes for him.

But the collision between Jenny and Chance is more emotional and intense than either of them expected. When the scandal hits the news, Chance's family finds him, pushing him to come home and face his demons.

The night has even more consequences for Jenny. She needs to find Chance, but nobody knows anything about him, not even his last name.

Her journey takes her across the country and into the disaster Chance is running from. But she can't give up on him, because what neither of them realized is that sometimes a single night can be the beginning of forever.

Chapter 1: Jenny

This face would be in all the tabloids tomorrow. It had to look good.

“I need something,” I told my friends Tina and Corabelle. They both sat on my bed giving me moral support as I put on makeup for this crazy important night.

Corabelle rose and stood behind me, her fingers lifting my soft pink dreadlocks. “You look beautiful,” she said.

“It’s not enough,” I said.

Maybe I needed more color. I dug through one of my drawers.

“Please tell me you’re not going Kardashian on us in front of all those photographers,” Tina said.

“Uggh, no,” I told her, pulling out a tube of emerald eyeliner. “I have to keep it classy for Frankie.”

Frankie was my movie director boyfriend. Well, pretend boyfriend. I had been his paid arm candy the past few months to attend premieres and industry parties. But now we were done. He’d fallen in love for real.

And not with me.

Not that it mattered. I didn’t love him either. We’d just been having fun. Platonic fun. Normally I didn’t do platonic, but Frankie had been an exception.

“You’re making yourself crazy,” Corabelle said as she adjusted a few stray locks over my ears. “It will be fine.”

I watched my friends via the mirror. Corabelle’s face was serious, her hands fiddling with my hair like she was solving a puzzle.

Tina flopped back on the bed and stared up at the cascades of colored silk draped from the ceiling. “Girl, this room looks like a Care Bear puked a rainbow,” she said.

I turned to her, realizing I might have overdone the decor. But Frankie had given me his credit card, and said my love of color made him happy. So I went nuts. The wallpaper shifted colors like a pastel waterfall. Even the makeup table with its movie-starlet surround of bulbs was a soft pink.

“Well, I can’t afford to change it now,” I said, and opened the glitter liner.

“He’s cutting you off now that he’s ditching you?” Tina asked.

“I gave up the credit line yesterday,” I said, adding an edge to the wings coming off my eyelids. The deep green liner matched my dress perfectly.

“These guys show no mercy,” Tina said.

“Part of the contract,” I said with a shrug.

Corabelle continued to smooth my pink dreadlocks. She couldn’t get enough of them. “These are really going to make you stand out,” she said.

“I hope so,” I said. “This is my last chance to get in the industry before I graduate and have to work someplace boring.”

“The photographers are going to love you,” Corabelle said. “It’s a big movie premiere. It will be a madhouse.”

She was right about that. And my public breakup with Frankie was going to turn some heads. Make some people dislike me. Sigh. But I couldn’t let anybody know the real deal. I had signed on the dotted line.

Tina hopped off the bed to stand with Corabelle. The three of us were a sight, me with my pink ’do, Corabelle and her long trailing black curls, and tiny impish Tina with her signature short pigtails.

“You are totally going to draw all the clicks, especially once they get a whiff of the scandal,” Tina said.

I pressed my hands to my cheeks. “The paparazzi are merciless. They LIVE for getting your bad side.”

“You don’t have a bad side,” Corabelle said gently.

I stared into the mirror, cursing my eyes for being such a dull gray. Half the reason I kept my hair pink was to make up for my boring eyes.

Tina shook her head. “I can’t believe you got into this mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” I said. “It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.” I dropped the liner back into the drawer and dug around for some lip gloss.

“You’re at the end of it, at least,” Tina said, sitting back down.

I picked up a sparkling tube and shook it. “Now I have to survive the fallout,” I said grimly. Tonight was going to be brutal.

“You will,” Corabelle said. “And you’ll be free to chase all the teaching assistants and doctors you want.” She smiled over at Tina.

“I had forgotten about all the hot docs at the hospital,” I said. I hadn’t, but they’d been out of reach since Frankie, so I’d pushed them from my mind.

“They don’t make good sugar daddies,” Tina said. “They’re workaholics.”

“Why did you go with dreadlocks?” Corabelle asked. She couldn’t stop playing with them.

I dotted my lips and tilted my head, watching the thick pink extensions sway against my bare shoulders. “It was my last hair appointment on the director’s dime,” I said. “I had to make it good.”

“I liked Frankie,” Corabelle said. “I hate that it has to end with such drama.”

I turned around in the chair to face her and Tina. “Thank you both for keeping the secret. Nobody was supposed to know, not even my friends.”

Tina tweaked her pigtails. “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”

I walked over to my dresser to choose some earrings. Almost everything in my jewelry chest was from Frankie. I wished it didn’t have to end so soon.

But I had to let him go without a fuss, per our agreement when we began our faux relationship. In the time we’d been together, I’d gotten more manicures, hair appointments, and skin treatments than a beauty pageant diva.

He’d also bought me an incredible amount of gifts. Clothes. Furniture. A diamond-encrusted Rolex that was worth more than my car.

I’d gone to outrageous parties with famous musicians and movie stars. My name had as many Google hits as a B-list actress even though I was just a lowly undergrad who worked at a coffee shop.

It had been amazing.

But unlike in romance novels, my movie director boyfriend hadn’t fallen in love with me. He hadn’t even made a move. Everything was just as he’d laid it out in the contract. Event attendance. Fidelity. Charm. Lovesick expressions for the press. Occasional PDA when the photographers were around. We had an optional clause for a mild scandal as a publicity tool, but Frankie decided not to use it while we were together.

For our last night as a couple, he was introducing me around. I didn’t really think I had it in me to be an actress, and I liked pizza too much to go for modeling, but a non-talent position in those industries would suit me just fine. Even being on the fringe of the glamour was better than some boring desk job.

I didn’t have any other idea of what I was going to do with a liberal arts degree come graduation in June.

Just as I slipped the diamond studs through my earlobes, the doorbell rang. “That’s the limo,” I said. “Is the dress perfect?” I asked, turning in a tight circle.

“It’s gorgeous,” Corabelle said.

I smoothed the fabric across my belly. The dress was stretchy and form fitting. You couldn’t even wear a thong with it, or it showed. The top was off the shoulders with a tight band running across the front. So no bra really worked. The strapless ones had all seemed too bulky and the little tape-on lifters didn’t seem to do much for me.

So I was full commando. If I played strip poker, I’d be a goner in one round.

“I can’t believe you’re not wearing underwear,” Tina said. “Please tell me you’re not going to pull a Britney.”

“No way. I’m a class act,” I said with a laugh. “Not because I am. Frankie’s contract insisted on it.”

Tina snorted. “That must be one heck of a document.”

“It is. Was.” I tugged the skirt down. It wasn’t super short, hitting just above my knee. I didn’t think it was a risk. Besides, it was so tight that I could barely separate my knees.

“Call if you need me later,” Corabelle said.

I nodded, suddenly feeling my throat get tight. “It’ll be hard, giving all this up.”

“You going to look for a new sugar daddy?” Tina asked. “Bound to be some at the party.”

“No.” I picked up my tiny evening bag. “I’m fine with whatever happens. I can return to my man-hopping days.”

Corabelle headed for the door. “You’ll be back in your element.”

I dropped the lip gloss into my purse. “It’s been a while since I got to bang a stranger.” Or anybody, I thought. Strictly faithful to a platonic boyfriend. It would have been impossible, if the perks hadn’t been so fabulous.

I’d gone through a lot of batteries.

Corabelle gave me a quick hug, careful not to disturb my hair or makeup. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

The three of us walked through my apartment. I felt a wave of melancholy. I liked Frankie. Even though we’d never so much as made out other than in public, I was sad to see him go.

But also, it was losing this life. I was born for it. I didn’t mind the photographers. I didn’t care about the gossip. I loved the mingling. The way people worked a room, sizing up who they needed to talk to and who needed to talk to them. The whole hierarchy, shifting and changing, rising and falling along with box office returns and bankability.

The worst part of this whole arrangement was that it had to end.

Maybe a quickie with some rich, hot actor would make me feel better.

Yes. Yes, indeed.