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Star Romance NOW!
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Rhiannon drew herself up to her full five feet plus two whole inches,
lifted her pudgy chin and nose in the air, and walked into the conference room.
Inside, a black-suited security team stood behind five men sitting at a
conference table. The seated guys looked like a staff meeting on Olympus: like the platinum-blond Sun
God Apollo shone brilliant in his beauty beside radiant Eros, God of Love, who slept beside the seductive
devil, black-haired Thanatos, who was the deification of Death, and two more blazingly beautiful demi-
Rhiannon stopped hard, nearly catching her high heels on the
Oh my God.
Those guys had been on the cover of last month’s Rolling Stone—</ i>all shirtless in the cover photo because they were beyond ripped, they were frickin’ shredded—
because they had released two indie, MP3-only albums that had gone platinum.
The article’s headline was War Breaks Out over Killer Valentine </ i>because three major-label recording companies had launched a vicious bidding war for their next
Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking at her on
PUBLICATION DATE: September 23rd.