It was supposed to go like this: meet-cute at the dog park, have a hot and sexy hookup, and never see each other again.
Things didn't go quite like I was hoping. I met the fine Irishman in the park, but the rest of my plan was upended by an extremely inconvenient break-in.
My record label isn't thrilled that the lead singer of their new, biggest band might have a crazed fan or angry ex out for revenge, so they hire a bodyguard to protect me.
That sexy Irishman from the dog park? His name is Ronan Walsh, and he's now my big, bossy bodyguard.
Ronan thrives on control. The only place I give up control is in the bedroom.
The spark that was there when we first met hasn't gone out. Each time we clash, it adds another splash of gasoline to the flames until we combust.
It's even better than I imagined.
But Ronan's still a bossy suit, and I'm a rock star who refuses to be tamed. We make no sense. Then again, sometimes the best things are the most unexpected.
Ronan says I'm his to protect, but I'm beginning to think I could just be his. That is if the danger lurking in the background doesn't get to me first.