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The Pop Star and the Playboy Quarterback

Ophelia Lane, an emerging singer/songwriter who recently relocated to Nashville to pursue her dreams, found herself ghost-singing for Camila to afford her mother's medical treatment. She endured bullying from Camila and others for her mother and willingly hid her own talent until she met Asher, the Ozarks quarterback. Asher encouraged her singing and Ophelia wondered if she’d found true support in the athlete everyone called playboy. At their next concert, Camila humiliated Ophelia once more in front of everyone, and even prompting extreme fans to publicly assault her. "Loser?" Ophelia wondered, who was the real loser here? "I hope you regret messing with me." Soon, she found herself on stage, exposing the falsehood of Camila, being signed by an agent, receiving flowers, applause, and fortune, and trampling on those who once bullied her. On top of all this, Asher wants to take her on a date! But will Ophelia be able to juggle handling her newfound success alongside trusting him? "I like you," Asher said. Ophelia begins to question if their worlds are too vastly different. Asher comes from a completely different background than her own and while their passion is exciting, is it enough? Can they make it through the pressures of fame, career, and jealous ex-girlfriends? The Pop Star and the Playboy Quarterback is created by Cate Mattison, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

Cate Mattison · perkotaan
Peringkat tidak cukup
60 Chs

Chapter 55 : Bad Reputation

*Ophelia*

“Please, tell me what happened, and don’t leave anything out.”

Maria connected us with a friend who specializes in contract law. She just so happens to have a location in Los Angeles, so a few days after his game, we fly out to meet with her. Asher and I sit in her office now, staring across her desk as she asks me to recount everything that’s happened with Alvin Peters since the moment I met him at the restaurant in Nashville.

Emily Faith, the lawyer, has her hair wrapped in a bun on top of her head. She could be mistaken for my mother; the color is identical. She wears a grey pantsuit with a pink-collar shirt and has a steaming cup of hot coffee on her desk. She’d offered some to the two of us, but I’ve been too jittery this morning to accept anything.

Instead, we were brought two cups of water. I hold mine tight in my grasp as I force myself to breathe. Emily’s hands are folded on the table, and she looks from Asher to me.

I do as she asks.