Wish Up on A rockstar
She never intended to deceive him. Now he’s in love with the wrong sister and it’s all her fault.
After Rosalie Tailor loses her job, she becomes a personal assistant for her supermodel twin sister, a role that requires Rose to deal with difficult people, including rockstar Wes Anders. When his texts change from impersonal to flirtatious, Rose struggles to resolve the situation before she attends the band’s costume party in her sister’s place.
Wes can’t believe it when his supermodel crush surrenders with a smoldering red carpet kiss and a night of unforgettable passion. But thanks to a case of mistaken identity, he tries to pursue a relationship with Rose’s sister. Her appalled twin ghosts Wes, leaving him hurt and bewildered.
Desperate to make amends, Rose agrees to work as a body double on the band’s music video to limit contact between Wes and her sister while they fulfill their business obligations. But as Wes and Rose bond over their shared musical talents, their undeniable chemistry leads to guilt and frustration.
Will a confession from Rose heal their relationship, or destroy it?
WISH UPON A ROCKSTAR EXCERPT
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” Raelynn calls from the super-sized bathroom where she’s applying her makeup.
“Famous last words,” I mumble, perched on her massive four-poster bed as we discuss our plans for the evening through the open door.
“Come on, Rosalie. Lighten up. The album release party for Down the Rabbit Hole is at the HotZone. It’ll be smokin’.”
“Rae, that’s your scene, not mine,” I remind her. Again.
“I’m aware,” she sighs. “And I’m sorry. But you really need to do this for me, okay?”
Our eyes meet in the large mirror’s reflection. Without her supermodel veneer of flawless makeup, a few hairpieces, and a designer outfit, the barriers between us aren’t an obstacle.
“I already said I’d do it,” I complain, breaking eye contact first. “But you know I hate this.”
She gets up from her dressing table, exits the bathroom, and comes to sit beside me. With the length of our legs touching, we do what we have since childhood. Raelynn gives me a hug, and I lay against her shoulder.
“I will straighten this out. But right now, I can’t.” She squeezes me with an edge of trepidation in her voice. “And you know I wouldn’t ask if Sergio wasn’t important to me.”
Sergio is my sister’s new boyfriend. I’ve never seen her this worked up about a guy. It might even be true love.
But there’s one problem, and his name is Wes Anders.
Yes, that Wes Anders. Rock god to die for, founder and lead vocalist of Jester’s Edge.
From the moment they made their first red-carpet appearance together, he and Raelynn were an insta-thing. In fact, it gave such a lift to both of their careers they made it official. No, not happily ever after official. Worse.
Contractually obligated at the insistence of their agents official.
Because of the huge attention boost their combined hotness creates, they’re set to attend a series of high-profile events together, including tonight’s party at the HotZone.
Naturally, the contracts were finalized long before Rae met Sergio. Raelynn hasn’t said much, but from what I gather, the enigmatic half-Russian half-Indian billionaire doesn’t believe her relationship with Wes is fake.
I don’t blame him.
After all, women embellish their single status all the time for a chance with him. Even though my twin is a no bullshit type of gal, Sergio apparently hasn’t figured that out yet. But she’s not the first model he’s dated, and Raelynn and Wes really do generate lots of heat together. Sergio’s wrong about her, but I understand why.
How does Raelynn meet her contractual obligations while staying in the good graces of her hot new man?
Tonight, I’m standing in for Raelynn. As Raelynn.
That’s right. I’m impersonating my super-model sister at a media event for a multi-platinum rock band’s latest album.
We’ve both lost our collective minds.
Now, I have done this before. Indie movie premieres, gallery exhibits, even theatre productions. All events my sister wasn’t paid to be at but felt would benefit her image to be seen in attendance.
While some of the events were great, I don’t like impersonating her, and I’ve never shown up for a paid gig in her place. Tonight is over the line.
“Um, won’t anyone notice that I’m not you?” I argue. “We might be twins, but we’re very different.”
“It will be packed with people buzzing on the energy, attention, and god knows what else.” She shrugs. “You’ll be fine.”
“What if I pull this is off and someone you know believes I’m you?”
“Don’t worry about it. Stand there and smile, say nothing, or the least amount possible. Just make sure they get plenty of pics. You should be out in one hour, tops.”
I take a gulp of air. “What about Wes?”
Now it’s Rae’s turn to sigh. “Wes knows the drill, and all eyes will be on him. He’ll be surrounded by throngs of people eager to see and be seen with the band. Besides, we haven’t actually spoken in over a month. Either we go through our agents, or he texts, and you handle those for me.”
Her reminder makes me uneasy.
“Can’t you tell Wes about Sergio?” I plead.
“Why?” My frustration surfaces.
“First, I’m contractually required to show up tonight. Telling the truth is more trouble than it’s worth,” she replies.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Positive.” She gives me a firm shake. “My agreement with Wes is strictly professional, and that’s how it’s going to stay. My private life is none of his business,” she insists.
“Fine.” I wriggle free from Raelynn’s embrace. “But this is it. I can’t keep pretending to be you. For starters, I’m ten, maybe fifteen pounds heavier than you, and I refuse to do a wheat-grass diet or any other BS.”
Rae’s a top model, but size two is a constant struggle for her. She never lets herself get larger than a four, even when she’s on a break. That’s what it takes to be tops at the lingerie fashion shows. But I can tell she misses beer, pizza, and ice cream.
Me? Runs along the beach before work and tennis on the weekends gets me to a fit size six. But since I refuse to give up micro-brews and Candy’s Custom Cupcakes, it works out to an eight in the dressing room. Most of the time it works well enough. The right clothes, a few slenderizing undergarments, some flattering camera angles, and no one’s any wiser.
“You look good tonight,” she interrupts my thoughts. “What are you, a six right now?”
“Stop trying to distract me with flattery.” I hate when she does that. There’s no hiding it from Raelynn, she can spot an extra or lost pound on me from across the room.
“I am not.” She crosses her legs, revealing her fuzzielicious slipper-sandals, a stark contrast to her elegant robe. “You have your own beauty, plus the luxury of a nice wheatie pitcher of beer whenever. Can’t I be envious for once?”
“My brand of beer-loving beauty will get us busted.” I stand and pace the length of her bedroom. “I don’t care to be standing in front of the blades when all of this hits the fan.”
“That won’t happen tonight. Trust me.” Raelynn leaps off the bed, her designer silk robe rustling as she walks to the center of the room and blocks my path. “Sergio’s hosting a private fundraiser at this house for Secret Santas who really wish to remain anonymous. No pictures, no phones, no media. No chance Wes or our agents will find out.”
“Well, at least you’re covered.” I sigh. “What about the launch tonight?”
“Relax. It’s a costume party.” Raelynn nods and offers me a knowing look. “It will be big, busy, chaotic.”
“A costume party?” I gasp. “Rae, I have nothing to wear.”
She gives me her mischievous smile, the one that sold millions of tubes of smokey eyeliner number four. “Not to worry. I do.”
Raelynn spins around and marches with determination to the garage sized closet attached to her bathroom. I rub my temples, then collapse onto the satin bedspread. The cool fabric soothes the back of my neck and shoulders, instilling a momentary calm.
Impersonating my sister always stresses me out, and I loathe the idea of deceiving Wes Anders any more than I have.
More than Raelynn knows about.
My thoughts are interrupted by the distant snap of a light switch. The rustle of plastic and the click of a door are an inadequate warning for my sister’s next surprise.
“Ta da!” Raelynn announces with a flourish.
I prop myself up on both elbows and feel my eyes widen in shock.
“What the hell is that?”
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