An accidental naked entanglement lands actress, Riley Glenn, in a fake off-screen romance with her obnoxious co-star, Maddox Winter. Their pretend engagement starts to feel like the only real thing in their cinematic lives… until their secret is revealed and threatens their relationship–on and off screen. Readers who love Claire Kingsley and Tessa Bailey will fall head-over-heels for Y’allywood Billionaire by Terra Weiss, a steamy, billionaire, celebrity, grumpy/sunshine, enemies-to-lovers, fake dating romantic comedy.
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Co-stars. Fake lovers. Real enemies.
I’ve landed my dream debut role on the TV crime series, Urban Dawn, but my co-star and on-screen beau, Maddox Winter, barely knows I exist. He’s too busy with his gold-digging arm candy—usually D-listers trying to make it in Y’allywood, Atlanta’s hot cinematic scene.
So what if he’s sexy as hell? I’m thrilled to see my name, Riley Glenn, at the top of the credits…even if the media has launched a smear campaign against me.
When an accidental naked entanglement lands Maddox and me on the cover of Love Buzz, the news spreads like norovirus on a cruise ship. With ratings skyrocketing, our director casts us into a faux relationship, and my wackadoodle godmother steps in to help out.
Sprinkling my gram's ashes in Scotland, I experience a new Maddox who brews my coffee and carries me through a field of cow pies. Oddly, our pretend relationship feels like the only real thing in our lives.
But when our secret drops, it could be the end of our act, on and off screen.
Y'allywood Billionaire is a witty, heartfelt stand-alone romcom mystery with adult language and steamy, open-door chemistry that will have you rooting for a happily-ever-after.
I’m not a stripper, but I play one on TV. At least, today I do.
I’m nervous as hell walking on set, a darkened private lap dance room which is actually not-so-private with the droves of lighting engineers, costume designers, makeup artists, writers, and cinematographers swarming around. Our director, Smith Cameron, looms everywhere like an omnipresent puppet master.
“C’mon, people—let’s get it right.” Smith is irked—this is take six. He flashes me his resting prick face. “Work that pole, Riley. Be the pole.”
“Be the pole,” I echo. My character, Lexi Bryce, is an FBI agent who’s undercover, acting as a stripper.
When Smith calls, “Action,” colored lights flash and swanky music plays. Forcing my lips into a sultry smile, I greet my pretend client—my hotshot co-star, Maddox Winter, who’s my partner on the show. His character, Agent Knox Sullivan, is also undercover, wearing a tight blue dress shirt that shows off his rock-hard chest and brings his crystalline eyes to life.
Sure, I’m attracted to him—who isn’t? An ex-producer, he’s now TV’s golden boy after his breakout role in this summer’s Bingeflix blockbuster, Bladelands. But off-set, Maddox Winter’s got all the warmth of liquid nitrogen.
My half-naked body hovers over his, and I flash him a wicked smile as I stroke his hard pecs under his thin shirt. Stepping between his legs, I bend into him again, giving him the scripted eyeful of my glistening breasts. “Still think I’m a nine?”
He looks up at me with his on-screen signature smirk. “Eh. Nine point five.” Although his button-pushing words are part of the script, the huskiness of his voice is new.
I tug his hair and pull his head back. Nuzzling his neck, I say, “Wrong answer.”
“You smell so damn good.” Maddox, or Agent Sullivan, closes his eyes.
“Glad to make you happy, baby.” Man, this is getting steamy—Smith should be pleased. As I slide down Maddox’s body, I expect him to look away, but he holds my gaze. I swiftly move back up, making sure my chest rubs against his. I stop at his face to trace his jawline with the tip of my nose. Even though I’m acting, I have to say, I enjoy being in control. Maybe a little too much.
When I feel his chest rise and fall beneath me, my breath hitches. And when a bulge threatens to burst from the zipper of his pants, I swallow hard. That’s clearly not part of the script.
I feel a deep satisfaction at the thought of torturing him, and it causes me a momentary brain lapse.
Focus. Standing and turning away from him, I lower myself until I hover over his lap. When I accidentally dip too low and brush over Maddox’s bulge, electricity shoots through me. He slips a bill into the side of my thong, and the touch of his fingertips makes my mind go hazy.
I turn back, and Maddox’s chilly eyes somehow burn into me, fragmenting my thoughts. I slide down his body again, pressing harder against him. When I make another quick pass over his zipper—this time intentionally—I surprise myself.
On beat with the music, I roll my shoulders back and sway my hips as I move downward.
“Oh, yeah,” Maddox moans, his eyes blazing. At this point, I have no idea if he’s acting or not.
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About Terra Weiss
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