His songs were better when he had a broken heart.
That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter.
All I had to do?
Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again.
The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel.
The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me.
It seemed simple enough. Easy, even.
I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own.
Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.
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