When Fangirls Lie (How (Not) to be Seduced by Rockstars #1) by Marian Tee
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary
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19-year-old Saffi March is not the perfect girl everyone thinks she is. When the pressure of pretending becomes too much, she escapes for a weekend and transforms herself into another persona - a hardcore groupie for the rockstar also known as Sweden's #1 Sex God, Staffan Aehrenthal.
One look at the beautiful girl hopelessly trying to hide her naïve virginal innocence behind skimpy dresses and garish makeup and Staffan immediately knows the groupie called "H" is hiding a secret. He also knows he needs her desperately. He's determined to make her his, the only girl who's able to soothe the demons in him.
But before Staffan can let Saffi into his life, those stars in her eyes have to go - and he'll do everything for that to happen, even if it means cruelly hurting Saffi until she realizes that he would never trust anyone with his heart again.
Excerpts from When Fangirls Lie
There was nothing as beautiful as seeing Staffan Aehrenthal dance. It was sheer poetry in motion, and he never failed to seduce his faithful audience with every little move he made. There were just no words to describe the heart-thumping excitement he evoked from his fans no matter how fast or slow he danced. And when he started to sing, oh God, how it made Saffi’s body tremble with desire!
Staffan’s eyes suddenly locked with hers.
She gasped.
She knew she must be imagining it. She must be. He couldn’t be---
The line of bouncers suddenly split into two from the center, just in time to let Staffan jump down from the stage. And then he was walking towards Saffi, his eyes never leaving hers.
Saffi’s gasp came out strangled, and it became harder and harder to breathe as Staffan came closer, a six-foot-five silver-haired man whose face was literally the last thing she saw before she slept and the first thing she saw when she woke up. He was the subject of her laptop, tablet, and phone’s screensaver, the pin-up in her high school locker, and she even had a limited edition collectible photo in her wallet.
Before she knew it, Staffan was already standing right in front of her, too gorgeous to be true but too close not to be real.
God, he was tall. God, he was sexy. And oh! Galloping groupers! Those hazel eyes. Surely she had to be mistaken. Surely those eyes didn’t say---
Staffan Aehrenthal held his hand out.
She took it without even a moment’s hesitation.
As he pulled her close, the screams all around them became louder. But even so, she heard Staffan very well as he whispered into her ear, “I’m going to fuck you now.”
And the next thing she knew, he was leading her up the stage.
Staffan Aehrenthal taking a girl from the crowd and dancing with her on stage was nothing unusual. He did it in every single one of his concerts. She had been aware of that, and she had envied all the girls who had the privilege of dancing with him. But what she didn’t know was that dancing with Staffan meant something entirely unexpected.
Staffan held her close, singing, not saying a word to her even if it was his backup vocals’ turn to sing. But with every chance he got, his hands would graze her breasts, pinching her nipples to life. Every time he would twirl her around, his hands would be brushing against her most private part, the one that had started to throb just because he was near.
Saffi was on fire, in heat, and out of her mind with desire. She was utterly mesmerized, and all she could do was follow Staffan’s lead as he continued to arouse her in front of thousands of people.
A part of her was completely shocked. He was seducing her…not just in public but on stage. At a concert that thousands of mobile phones were presently recording, a concert that could be televised---
She should be running away from him now, but she couldn’t. All Saffi could do was look and feel Staffan Aehrenthal touch her. All she could think was him. Staffan.Staffan.Staffan.
The look on Saffi March’s face almost made Staffan lose his concentration. Dammit. She looked so fucking sweet, so ripe for fucking, that only his sense of professionalism, honed razor sharp by the years he had worked in the music business, kept him from losing control and taking her then and there.
He had always done this. Always. But only Saffi threatened his control.
A loud pounding on the door made them jump in surprise.
“What the---” Donovan exclaimed.
“Are you fucking in there, H?”
Saffi squeaked in shock.
Knowing he only had seconds to spare, Alan hissed, “Remember your promise!”
“I promise. And you promise, too.”
Alan nodded. “I keep my word, Sapphire.”
Her eyes widened at the name he used. “Alan! Don’t call me---” She ended up shrieking instead when the door smashed open. Rather, Staffan had kicked it open. He came in, looking beautiful and furious in a three-piece suit. How was it possible for a human being to be so swooningly exquisite? He really was Mr. Rock Star Chic.
Staffan’s eyes found hers, the emotions swirling in it making her swallow.
Well, make that Mr. Angry Rock Star Chic.
“I can explain,” she said in a small voice.
“Really?” he drawled out. It was all Staffan could manage since every part of him was itching to smash Carson’s face in. And what the fuck was Donovan Bradley doing here? What the fuck had he walked into – a goddamn ménage a trois?
“We were just talking. Alan---”
He seethed at hearing Saffi mention another man’s name.
“---and I are friends from way back.”
“Is that so?” he asked silkily. “What kind of friends?”
Her eyes widened. “No, no, not like that! Oh my God, no!”
Staffan raised a brow. “And I should believe you because?”
Alan said nervously, “We did not do anything---”
“Get the fuck out, you two.” He didn’t spare the boys a glance. Fucking boys. He should have an all-girl group dance backup next time.
Alan and Donovan couldn’t get out fast enough. Sorry, Alan mouthed at her.
It’s okay, she mouthed back.
When she looked back at Staffan, his eyes had become even chillier.
The green-eyed monster inside him had never been fiercer, and all Staffan wanted was to pull Saffi to him and mark her body in every way he could. He wanted to fuck her until she lost consciousness, wanted to see the dreamy smile back on her face – the smile that should only be for him.
“We didn’t really do anything,” she said urgently.
“Why the fuck should I believe you when you didn’t tell me where you’re going, you locked yourself inside this fucking room with two men---”
“Because I can prove it,” she blurted out.
He stilled.
This should be interesting.
He lifted a brow.
She gulped. When they said that starting anything with a lie could only continue with more lies --- it was true, and it was happening now.
“I’m a very, very, in demand groupie.”
Staffan did his best not to roll his eyes.
“I do all sorts of stuff. Like, umm, mouth jobs – I mean blow jobs.” She lifted her chin just so he wouldn’t know how she was completely winging everything. “And hand jobs, foot jobs, even umm, anal jobs.”
Two parts of Staffan’s body twitched: his lips…and his cock.
• • •
A loud pounding on the door made them jump in surprise.
“What the---” Donovan exclaimed.
“Are you fucking in there, H?”
Saffi squeaked in shock.
Knowing he only had seconds to spare, Alan hissed, “Remember your promise!”
“I promise. And you promise, too.”
Alan nodded. “I keep my word, Sapphire.”
Her eyes widened at the name he used. “Alan! Don’t call me---” She ended up shrieking instead when the door smashed open. Rather, Staffan had kicked it open. He came in, looking beautiful and furious in a three-piece suit. How was it possible for a human being to be so swooningly exquisite? He really was Mr. Rock Star Chic.
Staffan’s eyes found hers, the emotions swirling in it making her swallow.
Well, make that Mr. Angry Rock Star Chic.
“I can explain,” she said in a small voice.
“Really?” he drawled out. It was all Staffan could manage since every part of him was itching to smash Carson’s face in. And what the fuck was Donovan Bradley doing here? What the fuck had he walked into – a goddamn ménage a trois?
“We were just talking. Alan---”
He seethed at hearing Saffi mention another man’s name.
“---and I are friends from way back.”
“Is that so?” he asked silkily. “What kind of friends?”
Her eyes widened. “No, no, not like that! Oh my God, no!”
Staffan raised a brow. “And I should believe you because?”
Alan said nervously, “We did not do anything---”
“Get the fuck out, you two.” He didn’t spare the boys a glance. Fucking boys. He should have an all-girl group dance backup next time.
Alan and Donovan couldn’t get out fast enough. Sorry, Alan mouthed at her.
It’s okay, she mouthed back.
When she looked back at Staffan, his eyes had become even chillier.
The green-eyed monster inside him had never been fiercer, and all Staffan wanted was to pull Saffi to him and mark her body in every way he could. He wanted to fuck her until she lost consciousness, wanted to see the dreamy smile back on her face – the smile that should only be for him.
“We didn’t really do anything,” she said urgently.
“Why the fuck should I believe you when you didn’t tell me where you’re going, you locked yourself inside this fucking room with two men---”
“Because I can prove it,” she blurted out.
He stilled.
This should be interesting.
He lifted a brow.
She gulped. When they said that starting anything with a lie could only continue with more lies --- it was true, and it was happening now.
“I’m a very, very, in demand groupie.”
Staffan did his best not to roll his eyes.
“I do all sorts of stuff. Like, umm, mouth jobs – I mean blow jobs.” She lifted her chin just so he wouldn’t know how she was completely winging everything. “And hand jobs, foot jobs, even umm, anal jobs.”
Two parts of Staffan’s body twitched: his lips…and his cock.
Giveaways!
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Hi! I’m Marian Tee – I write sexy funny romances, emphasis on the funny because most readers tell me my books are a public hazard, often causing them to laugh out loud and get funny looks from other people.
I’m from the Philippines, half Filipino and half Chinese with a love for all things Japanese! Yes, that rhymed. I love dancing, travelling, watching horror movies and basketball, and reading Archie comics.
Of course I love reading books, too. In fact, if I’m a little too slow in releasing a new book, it’s probably because I’m too busy being a reader and forgot all about being a writer. Yes, I know, MY BAD!
I am a frustrated MANGAKA, hence why I write novels like Drawn and why I have a Vampire Knight fan fic posted at FanFiction.net (just search for Morteia Chronicles).
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