Tank is live!! Don't miss this steamy enemies to lovers romance with a side of fake boyfriend.
Shallow pretty boy, conceited fuckboy, immature assclown. Take your pick, they all apply to Brewer. The world is his ass buffet, and we’re all on the menu. I’ve never hated anyone like I hate Brewer. But when Rebel pairs us to do a scene together, I have to admit I’m looking forward to taking all my irritation out on his...well, you get the picture. When one scene turns into a whole fake relationship, I’m not sure we’re going to make it out of this without some bloodshed.
Tank has got to be the most boring, stuck up ass I have ever met. That man doesn’t know how to have fun, not even when he’s doing a scene. And if there’s one reason to smile, it’s working with me, right? All the more reason to keep my real self from him because he’d laugh me out of the room. But when we have to pretend we actually like each other, something unexpected happens. The more time we spend together, the more I see a different side of him…and dare to show a different side of me. What the hell is happening?
Tank is the second book in the Ballsy Boys Production series. It can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s more fun reading the series in order. Expect plenty of laughs and a lot of sparks.
“Wait, an extra ten thousand for what exactly?” Brewer asks.
“He wants us to pretend to be boyfriends in real life,” I fill Brewer in.
“What?” Brewer frowns. “What exactly would we have to do?”
“Not much,” Rebel hurries to reassure us. “Post a few pics on Instagram, hold hands in public a little. Aside from that, leave all the social media buzz to me,” Rebel explains. “Oh, and you can’t tell anyone that it’s a ruse. Not even the other guys, just in case anyone were to slip up or something.”
I shift in my seat and peek at Brewer again. That doesn’t sound like too much trouble for as much money as they’re offering.
“You can’t fuck around while we’re boyfriends,” I point out to Brewer, my voice more rough than intended.
Brewer narrows his eyes at me.
“Then neither can you.”
“Hey, no problem,” I hold my hands up. “I’m not the one fucking a different guy every weekend. Half the time you can’t even bother to take them home, you just fuck them in the bathroom at the club.”
“Excuse the hell out of me. I didn’t realize you were my fucking mother,” Brewer snaps.
I stand up quickly, my chair clattering loudly to the floor behind me.
“Guys,” Bear shouts as Brewer shoots out of his chair as well. “This isn’t going to work if you can’t pretend to like each other.”
Brewer’s expression morphs from pissed off to a sugary smile.
“That’s no problem. What’s not to love about my big ol’ grizzly man?” Brewer teases, reaching out and sneaking his hand up my shirt. His fingers stroke through the patch of dark hair on my stomach, and I suppress a shiver. “You do realize that if I’m not allowed to fuck anyone else, that means you’ll have to take care of me off camera.”
“Is your right hand broken?” I challenge.
“That’s the deal, teddy bear, take it or leave it.” Brewer stares me down with challenge in his eyes.
“Give me the damn paper to sign,” I demand, holding my hand out toward Rebel.