No one has ever pushed me to my limits like these four men.
I’m excited when I’m given a promotion to tour manager at Club Red—until I find out I’ll be crowded into a van with four alpha-hole revue dancers, trying to keep them in line while they travel to other venues.
The men are all so irritating that I manage to mostly overlook how hot they are … until the night we’re forced to share a room, and all of the energy we’d put into fighting with each other gets channeled into more pleasurable activities.
It’s a spectacular lapse in judgment on my part, and I can’t let it happen again. But my common sense and willpower have apparently met their match. Resisting them is futile, especially when I find out there’s a lot more to them than meets the eye. Can we move from being enemies to something much more than friends?