Hi there. Have you ever heard of the San Francisco Boys? No? That’s surprising. They’re kind of hard to miss — masks, billions of followers on YouTube, death-defying stunts that make your heart stop mid-beat. Reckless. Untouchable. Addictive to watch. Yeah … those guys. BUT … these stories ain’t really about them. Not exactly. They’re about the girls who get pulled into their chaos … and survive. About what happens when one of those boys stops being a legend… and becomes your worst mistake. How do I know? Because I’m one of those girls. Melaena Angélica Blackburn. A girl who fell for a San Francisco boy. Damion Grimm. All-time playboy. Professional pain in my ass. Double world champion. Thrill chaser with a death wish and a god complex. He lives by the rules — HIS rules. Ride hard. Screw fast. Feel nothing. That’s how he keeps his demons on a leash. He doesn’t do blondes. He doesn’t do promises. And he sure as hell doesn’t do me — his best friend’s little sister. You should understand — I didn’t choose this. No. He shattered me first. And maybe I’ve hated him ever since … or maybe I just needed a reason to. Because here’s the thing about hate … it starts to feel a lot like something else when it burns hot enough. And here’s the thing about my family … the Blackburn name is cursed. My psycho grandfather? Yeah. Even death didn’t shut him up. Old enemies crawl back. Secrets crack open. Monsters rise. And I learn real fast that evil doesn’t always look like a monster. Sometimes it wears a familiar face. Control slips. Lines blur. Fate? She’s a cruel bitch. But I’m not the girl who breaks. I’m the one who burns. And if I want love … I’m going to have to break every damn rule to get it.

A San Francisco boy. Famous actor and model. Renowned playboy. Damaged lover. And a heartless robot. He needs to fix his reputation. I need money for my sister's treatment. Everything about us is fake ... but sometimes the line between fake and real can get blurred. Enrique Blackburn turned himself into a robot. Untouchable. Emotionless. The quintessential bachelor of the silver screen. He doesn't do love. He can never say the words. Especially not to me, his contracted phony girlfriend. But despite the consequences I let him take my breath and steal the things I know. Like fire on fire, he burns himself into my heart. And that's the last place I want him to be. We made an arrangement. We agreed to a contract. No sex. No love. No relationship. Can I unfold him? Can I make this real? Can I make him find his heart? But most importantly - can I make him say the words?