#BURN: Fever Falls Book 2

  #BURN

  Fever Falls, Book 2

  Devon McCormack

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  Copyright © 2019 by Devon McCormack

  Editing: Keren Reed

  Proofing: Lyrical Lines and Judy’s Proofing

  Cover Photography: Rob Lang Photography

  Cover Design: Black Jazz Design

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Fever Falls

  Don’t Forget to Read…

  1. Dax

  2. Jace

  3. Dax

  4. Jace

  5. Dax

  6. Jace

  7. Dax

  8. Jace

  9. Dax

  10. Jace

  11. Dax

  12. Jace

  13. Dax

  14. Jace

  15. Dax

  16. Jace

  17. Dax

  18. Jace

  19. Dax

  20. Jace

  21. Dax

  22. Jace

  23. Dax

  24. Jace

  25. Dax

  26. Jace

  27. Dax

  28. Jace

  29. Dax

  30. Jace

  31. Dax

  32. Jace

  33. Dax

  34. Jace

  35. Dax

  36. Jace

  37. Dax

  38. Jace

  39. Dax

  40. Jace

  Epilogue

  If You Enjoyed #BURN, Make sure to check out:

  Also by Devon McCormack

  About the Author

  So, what is Fever Falls? It’s a fictitious series with the city of Fever Falls serving as the backdrop to Riley Hart and Devon McCormack’s newest collaboration. Unlike our previous collabs, where we wrote books together, we’ll be sharing the Fever Falls sandbox and creating solo titles within it. The books are intended to be read as standalones; however, because there are overlapping characters between the books, it’ll be a lot more fun to read them all!

  Fever Falls has it all, including an inordinate amount of hot, curious, and eligible bachelors who learn the hard way that there’s an unexpected consequence to living here: you just might fall in love.

  Click here to visit the Fever Falls website.

  A FEVER FALLS NOVEL BY RILEY HART

  1

  Dax

  #PRextraordinaire #powertop #slay

  “Hacksmore Designs has the most highly anticipated men’s apparel line of the year,” I said, giving credit where it was due as fashion mogul Jerrick Hacksmore leaned back in a leather chair, his arms folded, expression stiff.

  I was midway through my presentation, pitching my company’s history, credentials, and stats. We’d rented this hotel suite in Thailand—where Hacksmore had been staying for two weeks—as the venue to try and win him over. To his left, his assistant sat in another leather chair, appearing totally uninterested in my pitch as she scrolled through her iPad.

  I’d dropped everything in Hollywood the moment my business partner and I discovered Jerrick Hacksmore was in the market for a PR firm to handle his new commercial line of apparel.

  We weren’t about to lose this opportunity to any of our competitors. Hacksmore Designs received some fabulous publicity over the past year, including exposure in a recent reality series with Anna Wintour, and Hacksmore’s latest plan to transition into commercial fashion with a line for several department stores was the talk of the town. It was an account every PR firm was eager to manage, and with Hacksmore in the market for the best, I was ready to fight for our shot.

  “This is fashion,” I pressed on. “We understand aesthetic, image, and brand. Your consumers want it to be big and hot…a campaign that sizzles. They want to know why they need this, and we at KlineSmart Global can give you that.”

  I pressed a button on the remote in my hand, changing the projector slide, then indicating the screen to my right.

  Hacksmore sighed as though he was already exhausted, and I hadn’t even made it to the pitch yet.

  “Okay, okay, I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to level with you, Dax, because I’m not interested in wasting your time. As you know, it’s only because of your partner that I was even willing to take this meeting.”

  If Elliott hadn’t been climbing to base camp on Mt. Everest, he would have been here. But since he was unavailable and I had no doubt in my ability to reel Hacksmore in, we’d made do.

  “Freyda Inc. has expressed serious interest in our account,” Hacksmore added, “and on the heels of their success with Vinny Creed’s H&M line…”

  I struggled to keep from growling at the mention of Freyda Inc., a rival PR firm that had seized an opportunity I’d been working up for months with Vinny Creed. Their company had hit a grand slam with their successful campaign, making them the current envy of the PR world.

  We were number two, and I didn’t live my life by being a number two.

  “I’m certain I can persuade you guys to work with our firm on this campaign,” I assured him, more determined than ever. “Freyda Inc. had a good year, yes. They’re the trendy firm, but our firm has had far more success, particularly with brands that aren’t already established, finding a way to bring them into the market. We can give you the best launch in the goddamn world.”

  “The reputation of your confidence precedes you, Dax Munro. However, confidence isn’t what we’re interested in. We want results.”

  “We have the numbers and the history, same as Freyda Inc. We are pioneers on the social-media front. Not only are we innovative and one of a kind, but we promise to make your account our number-one priority.”

  I shared a look with my assistant, Carter, seated in another leather chair on the opposite side of the boardroom table from Hacksmore and his assistant. I could tell by the way Carter frowned that he knew this wasn’t going well for us.

  Hacksmore turned back to his assistant. “Could you pull up the image, Ferah?”

  Ferah rose from her seat and walked to the front of the boardroom, where she unplugged my laptop from the projector and swapped the cable with one of her own to connect her iPad. She moved around the screen on her tablet, then clicked on an icon.

  The image of a firefighter popped up—hot as sin, with six-pack abs framed perfectly by walls of muscle and a bulging chest and biceps, he held a Shar-Pei, both of them soaked. The firefighter had short dirty-blond hair, a damp lock of his bangs curling over his forehead. He looked at the camera with these big, deep blue eyes that appeared to be able to see right through me, smirking as though he owned the goddamn world with that beautiful face of his.

  “Do you know who this is?”

  “Everyone knows Hottie Firefighter,” I said. “He saved the Shar-Pei from the car in the river. Kid caught this picture when he came out of the water, hashtagged the hell out of it for Instagram, and it went viral.”

  It was my job to be on top of what was vogue, and Hottie Firefighter was one of the top trending images of the past few weeks.

  “This guy’s got modeling and reality-show offers,” Hacksmore went on. “He’s probably the most coveted commodity right now. I know image, and this guy is the image we want.”

  “If it’s a hot model you are interested in—”

  “A hot model? You think I struggle to find hot models, Dax? That’s not what this is about. You and I both know there are some things that just work. I have a white wed
ding dress, very simple design, that sells like hotcakes, and then I have the same one with a little extra fabric here and there, a couple of decorative pieces, nothing else, that sells a quarter as much…maybe. I have other dresses, same care on my part, don’t sell for shit. I could spend years marketing them, and no one would give a damn. They’d sell, yes, but not like the simple white dress. So why waste my time promoting the other dresses when I know I already have a hit?”

  I waited for him to bring us back around to his point, though I was fairly sure I knew where this was going.

  “This firefighter,” he continued, “what is it about him that appeals to people more than the rest of the hot guys in the world? He’s built like Adonis. He’s cut like it’s been years since he’s seen a carb, but probably eats at Dunkin’ Donuts every morning. His eyes fucking see right through you in a photo some lazy-ass teen took thinking it’d be cool to share with their friends. He’s saving a goddamn Shar-Pei! He is Superman! Men want to be him, women want to fuck him. Hell, I want to fuck him!” He paused for a moment. “But all of that can be replicated. All of that can be imitated. And yet, one thing changes and the rest falls apart. No. He’s the hit. Something about him has infected the zeitgeist and is the reason that picture, out of every goddamn image on the Net, went viral. He’s goddamned lightning in a bottle.”

  While I didn’t disagree with his logic per se, it was clear the appeal he saw in this guy extended beyond interest, into a bit of an obsession, not so much with the firefighter, but about this philosophy he’d developed about why it had become such a sensation.

  While to some degree he could be right, the guy could have just been lucky as fuck. Gotten the right amount of clicks at the right time, launching him into the spotlight, which he would fall out of in no time…as every celeb does.

  Hacksmore said, “We throw this guy in our clothes, and they make that mental connection: ‘This will make me feel like Superman!’ That’s our brand.”

  Despite my skepticism around his reasons for wanting to work with this guy, I didn’t see Hottie Firefighter hurting the brand or my plans for working with Hacksmore Designs.

  “This all seems manageable.”

  His expression twisted up. “No. Freyda Inc. tried to get in touch with him. We’ve talked to other firms who’ve tried. So barring you being able to get me this guy, we’re signing with Freyda Inc. I’m not going to BS you guys, because I respect you both. I was willing to take this meeting because Elliott is persuasive and I didn’t have to leave the comfort of my vacation, but this is just the way it is, and I’m sure you know, if you were in my shoes, you’d do the same thing.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t losing this to Freyda Inc.

  “I can get you Hottie Firefighter,” I said with certainty.

  Hacksmore narrowed his eyes at me. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled, turning to Ferah, who laughed with him. Carter appeared equally suspicious.

  What the hell? Why was no one on my side?

  “Well, if you can land Hottie Firefighter before next week, when we make our final decision, our account’s all yours.” Hacksmore smiled as though he was impressed, but also like he didn’t believe I could do it.

  And woe to the man who didn’t believe I was more than talk. I didn’t fucking get to where I was by bullshitting people. I got there by being a hardworking, ass-kicking motherfucker who didn’t take no for an answer.

  * * *

  As soon as Hacksmore left the boardroom we’d rented for the day, I caught my breath. “And there we go.” I groaned.

  Maybe it was going to be a challenge, but I fucking lived for challenges. I turned to Carter, who was texting on his phone as he stretched out across the leather chair, throwing his legs over the arm.

  “Okay, where can I find this guy?” I asked him. “What are you snickering about?”

  “You bullshitted Hacksmore into thinking this is a done deal, and you don’t even know where Mr. Hottie Firefighter lives?”

  “It’ll be a done deal once I get his people on the phone. Hacksmore Designs is the future of fashion, so I guarantee you, we can negotiate whatever this guy wants.”

  Carter eyed me suspiciously. “You sure this doesn’t have to do with that slightly competitive streak of yours?” I picked up his sarcasm from the overdramatic way he exaggerated slightly.

  “You expect me to pretend I’m not going after this to shove it up Freyda Inc.’s asses? You know how this business works, Carter. One day you’re in, one day you’re out…until you fight your way back in again. I’m here because I can see marketing gold, and this Hacksmore account will get us back to the top.”

  “And we know how you love the top.”

  I ignored his innuendo and went on. “If I had to get on my knees and suck Hacksmore’s dick, I would. But no, all I have to do is hire a random firefighter in some small bumpkin-town place—”

  “Fever Falls.”

  “What?”

  “That’s where he’s from. While you were busy playing Faye Dunaway’s character in Network, I was doing my due diligence on this guy…in no small part because of those abs…goddammit, those are hot.”

  He showed me his phone, revealing the Hottie Firefighter image he’d pulled up.

  “I love his abs, but I love the deets more right now. This Fever Falls sounds familiar…”

  “It’s a city in Georgia. Ash Carmichael’s stomping ground.”

  Quarterback celeb Ash was repped by Elliott, whom I sometimes stepped in to help when he was too busy. I’d forgotten that was the place he’d taken up residence.

  “Oh, that’s right. Still seems an odd name for a place. Fever fucking Falls? Do they all have the flu? Is this where the first smallpox outbreak was?”

  Carter enjoyed my sarcasm before adding, “Obviously, I haven’t researched the history of the town. Would you like me to do that, or do you want the scoop I got from Leslie over at WME?”

  “Leslie Manning? Is she his agent? Does she know we’re interested? Don’t make us sound desperate!”

  “Calm the fuck down, Dax. If you would listen for five seconds instead of running your mouth, I’d give you all the dirt. She’s not representing him. She’s talked to everyone. Hacksmore wasn’t kidding. This guy’s turned down talk shows, radio interviews, blogs…everything. Keeps telling people he’s not interested in any of that.”

  “Yeah, and Chip and Joanna told everyone they weren’t interested in doing another TV series, but when the check’s written for the right amount, no one says no. Ever. And you heard Hacksmore. They will pay out the ass for an endorsement deal with this guy.”

  Cynical, maybe. Realistic, definitely.

  “As far as Leslie knows,” Carter went on, “he’s either playing an amazing game of hard to get, or he’s not interested in the whole Internet-celebrity thing.”

  I laughed. “Not interested? Oh, this guy’s in way over his head. Get me his number and—”

  “Evidently, he changed his number. Leslie says no one can get in touch with him.”

  “Clever fuck. Then get me his address and a flight to Atlanta.”

  “You’re gonna go to Fever Falls, Georgia?”

  “Why are you giving me that look? Yes, I’m going to personally secure one of the biggest marketing campaigns this country has ever seen. I’m going to nail this guy before he fucking signs on with Freyda Inc. or grabs a million-dollar deal with Johnson & Johnson or Ford…because I didn’t get here by sitting on my ass all day.” I made sure to glance Carter over as he continued sitting in that goddamn chair like a slackass.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Gotcha, powertop. Just calm your ass down and let Carter handle everything. Pack your bags because you’ll be on a flight to Atlanta in a couple of hours. First class, of course.”

  “You still have that arrogant expression all over your face.”

  “I just think it’s funny how cocky you still are about this. Leslie Manning doesn’t giv
e up easily, and if she says she’s hitting a brick wall, then I have to think this is going to be trickier than you realize.”

  “I’m a little more impressive than Leslie Manning. Give me my props. Watch and learn why I’m the boss. I’ll have a signed contract with this guy in the next forty-eight hours, and we’ll be on our way to making history with the most highly anticipated brand of the year.”

  “Sure, Jan.”

  “‘Sure, Jan’? What?”

  Carter groaned. “You haven’t seen the gif?” When I shook my head, he continued, “Clearly, I know why I’m in charge of all our social-media publicity. It’s from The Brady Bunch Movie. Jan Brady keeps telling all these big, ridiculous lies, and Marcia just rolls her eyes and says ‘Sure, Jan.’”

  “Are you saying I’m telling a big, ridiculous lie?”

  He cocked a brow. “I should know whether or not it is in a few days, right?”

  “Just gives me more motivation to ace this.” Plenty of people had doubted me in my life. Skepticism didn’t faze me. I could always prove them wrong.

  “Go get ’em, Dax!”

  I started out of the office. Lots of shit to take care of, but then a thought hit me, and I slipped back in, opening my mouth, feeling a little silly.

  “You need his name?” Carter asked, a coy smile across his face.