Faking It for the Bodyguard (Faking It #0) Read Online Tamrin Banks

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Faking It Series by Tamrin Banks

Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)

Fake it till you make it right?
Vic- I’ve done a lot of crazy things for my job with Maxwell Security, now Maxwell-Price Security, But this one takes the cake. Rescue a spoiled brat of a runaway from her own mistakes. Only I find out it’s a little more complicated than I thought. This girl is a full-grown woman, an artist with a sunshine attitude and a stalker that seems to know her every move. I’m going to be stuck with her until we catch him. What happens when I start to like playing house with the feisty woman?
Azalea- Sometimes it stinks to be me! Sure, my dad is rich and famous. I don’t care. I don’t need or want his money. I just want to live my life. Unfortunately, somebody else doesn’t want me to live it in peace. Enter Victor. He’s big, growly and hot as heck. Everywhere I go, he’s there. Until he decides that he needs to live with me 24/7. According to the story he’s come up with, he’s my new boyfriend.
One line after another gets blurred. Now I’m wondering…is this real or are we still just faking it?
Sometimes a girl has just gotta fake it. You know what I mean!




I can feel my heart pounding in my head. The blood is roaring in my ears and I can’t stop sucking in air. I lean down and put my hands on my knees, spots dancing in front of my eyes.

“Are you alright?” the manager of the art gallery asks me, his dark eyes concerned. His boyfriend standing next to him grunts.

“Have you lost your mind? Does she look alright?”

Here’s a clue. I’m not alright. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. It’s like sucking air through a straw with a hole in it. Not working.

I wave them off when Keith tries to grab my hand. His boyfriend sighs. “Come on, A.Z. We just want to help you.”

I know they do. But I’ve had this happen before. I just need some space.

I stand up and rush to the back of the packed gallery, waving them off when they try to follow me.

I slam through the door and gulp in huge lungfuls of the fresh night air.

Within minutes I feel the tight, anxious feeling in my chest lighten and release. I stand up and lean into the rough brick wall, closing my eyes. The cool air wafts over my face and washes away all the stress of the art show.

It’s the one thing I don’t absolutely love about my job. I cannot stand the shows with all the crowds milling around, bumping into you and just talking, talking, talking. So much noise. That’s why I became an artist. The isolation and creative outlet. It just felt right.

But with success comes so much more of the schmoozing. Ugh! I sigh loudly, sinking into the wall and sliding down.

“Are you okay?” a deep voice asks and I jump, my heart stalling and then racing out of control again. I jerk upright and whip around to see a dark shadow moving towards me.

Only then do I stop and think that maybe standing alone in an alley after dark wasn’t maybe the best idea.

“W-who are you?” I whisper, forcing the sound out of my constricted throat.

He holds his hand out, palm upward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

He moves closer but stays out of the tiny circle of light that I’m standing in so all I can see is a backlit shadow. I lift my hand up, shading my eyes but still can’t get a good look at him.

But the voice sounds so familiar that I can feel little shivers on my skin. Not good ones. Nausea rises in my gut and I feel uneasy.

“You haven’t told me who you are. I feel like I know you.” I squint harder into the shadows but the big shape moves away from me.

I hold my hand up. “Wait! Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head slightly and I barely see it in the darkness. It’s more a feeling.

And the unease grows. I back away, reaching my hand out to the door behind me. “I should really be going…”

“Don’t go,” he says.

I still and wait to see what he says. Which is a mistake. Before I can catch my breath, he’s on me. His hand yanks me around and he’s shoving a cloth over my mouth. The sickly sweet smell makes me cough and suck in a deep breath, my head swimming.

I hold my breath and fight him…hard. I don’t want to go with this man. I claw and scrape at his arms, hearing his hissed breath in my ear and feeling a sense of satisfaction that I’ve hurt him.

Dizziness creeps over me and then my legs start to collapse under me. I kick out and my boot heel connects with his shin and he jerks, lifting the cloth off my mouth.