Page 127 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
Hard? Trygranite level.
Why would I want to date when it could lead to an epic fight that shreds my soul? I never want to go through that again.
“Romance and I are on a timeout,” I mutter, admitting the sad, stark truth.
He cups his ear. “What’s that? Oh, that’s the sound of the buzzer on your timeout. You’re up, TJ. Get on a dating app. We don’t even have to use Grindr anymore. We can do Tinder. We canuseany app. Hell, you can do Boyfriend Material and level all the way up. Is that such a bad idea?”
I lean into the public’s perception of me. “It’s taken a year to get the Flynn-breakup stink off me, but if I’m on an app, the whole Team TJ versus Team Flynn debate will rage on.”
Mason smiles the nefarious grin that only a true shark of a literary agent can pull off. The man gestures grandly to himself. “Then I shall be your app. Be ready this Thursday at eight o’clock for a date at the St. James Theatre, home of the new musical,Adventures of The Last Single Guy in New York.”
I hate musicals and Mason knows it. “Why are you sending me to a night of auditory torture?”
“Because it’ll inspire you. And you’ll be going with the date we hand-selected for you.”
What the hell has he cooked up? “Who is we?” I ask.
“Holly and moi.”
That name is dangerously familiar. “She reps actors, right?”
Like Jude. But others too. Many others.
Mason points at me like I’ve won a prize on a game show. “Give this man a cookie! She joined our firm a little while ago, and do you want to knowwhoshe brought with her?”
Please don’t say Jude. Don’t fucking say Jude at all.“Who?” I ask, and I can hear the dread in my voice. I pray he’s arranged a date with someone else. Anyone else.
“Does the name Jude Fox ring a bell?”
I beg the universe that I misheard him. “Jude Fox?” I croak out in case there’s a country star I don’t know named Bood Fox.
“Jude was fantastic inIf Found, Please Return,” Mason continues, and there’s no mistaking this horror show now. I’m officially watchingMy Private Nightmare.
Mason’s praise of my ex continues. “And he’s poised to become a breakout star, but he desperately needs a very appropriate fake boyfriend. And his agent and I have chosen...” he pauses, bangs air drumsticks, and points to me, “...you.”
The words knock the air out of me. I can’t breathe. “And you’ve somehow, for some reason, chosen me out of everyone in the free world?”
“Voila! TJ Hardman and Jude Fox are now a Hollywood-meets-the-lit-world couple,” Mason says. He really is a bionic shark. “As America’s sweet and hot romance writer, you’re the perfect antidote.”
“Antidote to what?” Anxiety consumes my soul as Mason proves he’s more like a bionic shark descended from Neptune himself and crossbred with a fire-breathing dragon of the sea.
“You didn’t hear?”
“No, obviously I didn’t hear because I’m asking.”
Mason chuckles. “Let’s just say Jude needs a new beau because his last boyfriend was a bit of a bad boy.”
The fucker moved on already? I’m suffering, and he’s not? “I’m not very fun these days. I’m not good fake boyfriend material.” Good fake boyfriends don’t want to punch things.
“Didn’t you just ask for my help? I assumed that meant you’d do anything I suggested,” Mason says with an evil grin.
“Anything but date Jude Fox,” I spit out.
“Why not him? He’s fun, gentlemanly, talented, and easy on the eyes. We need you to get him through some events during the awards-season publicity tour now that his flick is the biggestsmall budget hit in years. And if I’m right, and let’s face it, I usually am, the events will spark some ideas for your book.”
That makes less sense than the solid gold shit I wrote. “How?”
“TJ, you need to shake up your world. Because what you’re doing now isn’t working.”