Marni Joshua “Brick” Brickman was the bane of my existence. The stupidly handsome bassist for Wasted Breath, the world’s biggest rock band, has managed to push every one of my buttons and fry every last nerve with his juvenile practical jokes and swaggering charm. Interrupting my murderous fantasies, though, was Brick’s thoughtfulness. His tenderness. His relentlessness. Did I mention he’s stupidly handsome? Brick Marni Morrison was my dream woman. I know I annoy the crap out of her, but I can’t help it; getting a rise out of her is what I live for. The fire in her eyes that burns just for me only fuels my need. She’s a badass career woman, taking her job as my band’s equipment truck driver very seriously. A little too seriously. Marni needs to have a little fun, and I know just how to give it to her. By making her mine.