All Access (The Fangirl Series Book 1) Read Free

Russell wants me to watch for one ticket. To his show. Where I’ll see him. And touch him. And—ermergerd!—meet him. How is this even happening?
    I know I’m pushing it, but dammit I’m on a roll, so I gather up my big-girl bloomers and ask the one big question that’s been on my mind since the minute he texted.
    “So, how did you get my number, Niles? And why?”
    “My people called your people, LOL. We had to jump a few hoops, but we got ahold of your agent who had a pretty good feeling you wouldn’t mind hearing from me.” Winky face.
    “She was right. Really, really right.” I make a mental note to call Lucy first thing in the morning. She was already my hero to begin with, but now I might have to propose marriage or buy her a house or something as a thank-you for this one. Seriously. I really might.
    “What you did was cool. Freaky and trippy, like I said. But cool. So thanks.” Blushing smiley. “See you at the show Friday. Later.”
    I set my phone face down on my leg, my mind trying so hard to process this whole thing. But it can’t. I can’t even breathe, let alone understand what just happened.
    My phone dings again, and since I’m sure it’s Sara and she is going to die when she hears this (after I actually get her to believe me, of course), I flip that puppy over and get my typing thumbs ready.
    Except it’s not Sara. It’s yet another selfie of Niles. This time, he’s holding my book in his left hand while giving a thumbs-up. His hair is flopped over his left eye, his right eye is clear and twinkly, and I see just enough of his shirt and jacket to know exactly what he’s wearing to the concert tonight. He is so sexy, I die on the spot.
    What. In the hell. Am I getting myself into?

CHAPTER THREE
    Let’s Make a Deal
    As predicted, Sara doesn’t believe me when I call to share my news. Even after I send her Niles’s first two selfies, which, she claims, I lifted off the Internet. Nope, instead of freaking out with me like I hoped she would, she insists I am finally off my rocker and that my obsession with Niles has morphed from “healthy outlet” to “next stop: Psychoville.”
    “Okay then, watch this.” I send her the last thing in my arsenal: the picture of Niles with my book. If this doesn’t work, nothing will.
    I wait a moment then hear her squeal. Bingo!
    “Kallie, where did you get that?! That’s incredible. Is that really him? With your book?”
    “Told ya.”
    I have a totally captive audience for the next hour as Sara hangs on my every word. I recap our whole texting conversation, and the fact that I’d already heard from him again this evening. He wondered what side of the stage I prefer and if I could text him my email address so his people could send the ticket. I told him I didn’t care where I sat, that every spot within ten yards of him was perfect. (I nearly puked in my own mouth after I sent that one.)
    For sure, I am bordering on crazy. He’s just being nice. He wants to know where I want to sit to increase his chances of finding me in the crowd. He’s trying to act like he cares about my silly book, but no doubt this is something his PR people think is necessary since I devoted an entire tome to him. Not that most people would know it’s about him. But still. I need to talk to Lucy to see what she knows about all this.
    Of course, I don’t sleep a single second all night. Not one. Thoughts of our conversation, thoughts of meeting him, thoughts that both his email address and cell phone number are now permanent residents in my electronic devices—seriously, I can’t even handle myself! This is so beyond real, I swear I must’ve dropped dead at some point without knowing it and this is my little sampling of heaven.
    Finally, finally, after a night of everything but rest, it’s morning. And the second nine o’clock hits, I’m on the horn with Lucy.
    “So, uh, I got a text from someone kind of interesting last night,” I tease after an