How to Date Japanese Idols (The Tenshi Series) Read online

  How to Date Japanese Idols

  Cilia Jaspers

  Published by Books with Benefits Press

  Copyright 2013 Cilia Jaspers (April Oglesbee and Jessica Wise)

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you want to share this book with another person, please purchase another copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Dear Reader,

  Writing this book was so much fun! I loved writing a female character that was commitment-challenged. Eloise runs from relationships a lot like Chandler fromFriends...not because being an unattached player is fun and glamorous, but because she has a genuine fear of trusting the wrong people and a knowledge of all that can go wrong. And who could be the yang to my heroine’s yin? Why a happy-go-lucky prince, of course! A man sweet enough and happy enough to charm those frowns right out of her. But, since blue-blood royalty is hard to come by, I aimed for a Celebrity King. After drawing inspiration from actors and musicians in Japan, Taiwan, and South Korea, Tenshi was born.

  Although it was sweet watching Gakino Yoh woo the reluctant school teacher, Eloise Bromleigh, one of my favorite things was introducing readers to a world we never see in romance: Japan, Taiwan, and Asian Pop. Readers who start the book imagining Tenshi as an American boy band quickly realize Justin Timberlake is in the right direction but on the wrong road. Gakino Yoh and his bandmates are unlike anything in American celebrity culture. Gakino has the staying power of U2, the television clout of House star Hugh Laurie, and the over-controlling management team of Clarke Gable.

  Tenshi as a band is a band of brothers. They tease each other and are unflinchingly loyal. And every one of them has a squee-inducing hotness factor that means there’s a heartthrob perfect for all our readers.

  I can’t wait to find out who you love most! Write to me on Twitter @BookswBenefits and let me know.

  Love,

  Cilia

  About the Author

  Cilia Jaspers is...actually a duo! Jessica and April (mix up their names and it spells Cilia Jaspers) are best friends who met in grad school. While getting their masters in English, Jessica and April would hold secret meetings to declare their love for all things romance and say, in whispered tones, that they preferred Nora Roberts over Samuel Richardson. After graduation, these besties moved to Taiwan where they taught, explored Asia...and wrote romance. The Tenshi series is their debut collaboration. Jessica also writes as J.W. Ashley. Her newest release, Into the Woods, is available in print and digital formats.

  Acknowledgments

  I dedicate this book to my students. Janice, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You know me well enough to know why. I miss you, girl. And I hope your life is half as full as you deserve. To my other students in Taiwan and Japan and Korea, wherever you are in the world now...you inspire me. All of you. The world isn’t fair. It’s your job to make it that way. Whatever displeases you, change it. Find what makes you come alive and never stop doing it. Now, focus, beautiful students!

  I also want to send a deep and undying thanks to Amber for her devotion to my book, her love for the band of brothers, and the dedication she showed in helping this book, and its companions, to come into being.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  *

  Copyright

  *

  Dear Reader

  *

  About

  *

  Acknowledgments

  *

  Chapter 1

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  Chapter 2

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  Chapter 3

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  Chapter 4

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  Chapter 5

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  Chapter 6

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  Chapter 7

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  Chapter 8

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  Chapter 9

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  Chapter 10

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  Chapter 11

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  Chapter 12

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  Chapter 13

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  Chapter 14

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  Chapter 15

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  Chapter 16

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  Chapter 17

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  Chapter 18

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  Chapter 19

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  Chapter 20

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  Idol Husband (Book 2) Excerpt

  CHAPTER 1

  There was pink everywhere. And fake eyelashes and ruffles and bows. And screaming… Lots of screaming. And she was somehow right in the middle of it. In a line of hundreds of trembling, yelling, adolescent fans. She should win teacher of the year for this.

  She had been teaching in Taiwan for a year. After spending her days and her nights at a boarding school, she was close to her students, and two months ago at graduation one student in particular had called in a favor. Mei was set to fly off to attend an American University, and she had begged and pleaded for her dear Ms. Bromleigh to get an autograph for her. It’ll be fun! You’ll see! And it’s just not fair! I can’t miss their first visit to Taiwan just for school!

  So Eloise Bromleigh was here…waiting for a group of Japanese idols. A Japanese boy band.

  What had her life come to?

  A Master’s degree in English. Several articles published on romance and gender in the classics, and now this.

  Out of place didn’t even begin to describe her feelings. The worst part was that she wanted to meet them. The guys of Tenshi were talented, funny, and they had cheered her up more often than she cared to admit. She shouldn’t be here, but she had come, and it wasn’t fair to blame it all on Mei.

  It was Mei who had introduced her to Tenshi. It was Mei who had given her subtitled concerts and variety shows and mp3s. But it wasn’t Mei who had put her in this position. Like it or not, she was a fangirl. A fangirl minus the squee, but a fan all the same.

  She’d been waiting in line for eight hours already, with all the rest of the die-hards. Being the only American, she’d drawn a lot of interest. Knowing some Mandarin had helped, too, and the other fans were actually rather kind, sharing their snacks and blankets and holding her spot in emergency moments during the night. And she was grateful for it, she really was. But each time she headed back into the line and saw all this excitement from the outside, she couldn’t believe she was here.

  If only the senator could see her now, what would he say? No daughter of mine would consider doing such a thing. We adopted you, Eloise. Now, would it trouble you to adopt some of our values?

  Well, it was a good thing he was half way around the world, then, wasn’t it?

  She cast a worried glance at the reporters who’d been lining up the last hour. It wasn’t likely that any of them would recognize her. She knew that. But a lifetime of dodging photographers made her wary. She didn’t want to try to explain to her father–or her boss for that matter–what she’d been doing at a Tenshi fan event, on a faculty work day no less. She pulled out her customary pony tail and pulled her hair around her face.

  The sudden roar of the fans made her jump. It was deafening, so much louder than before, and it took her by surprise, distracted as she was. She turned, looking toward the entryway. Eloise couldn’t see anything above the mass of girls around her, but Tenshi had clearly arrived. The cause of all this noise was unmistakable. Caught up in the flow of fans, she rode a wave of excitement and was pulled in the doors by the girls around her who pushed and shoved and screamed until finally they–and Eloise with them–could see the main attraction.

  The
men of Tenshi.

  They walked in, smiling, comfortable, the center of the storm.

  The leader of the group and the oldest at 30, Hiroya Nori walked casually into the room. His graceful movements and charcoal gray three-piece suit belied his sun-bleached hair, his tan, and the slightly bored look on his face. He turned back to smile at something the person behind him said, the slight wrinkles at his eyes betraying his age. Eloise was reminded that Hiroya–or Hiro–didn’t always follow his manager’s advice about living an idol life. He was always fishing, which made his skin and hair darker than many Japanese women found attractive, and he always seemed to stumble into scandals, giving rise to news stories about his affairs and drunken exploits. But, looking at him, he seemed boyishly careless, not reckless.

  Koizumi Ryo stepped into the room behind him. His body was relaxed but his gaze was laser-beam focused wherever it landed. He was such a heartbreaker. The sharp lines of his face reached out and grabbed the eyes and then the lungs. His high cheekbones pulled his wide, full mouth into an amused smile, and a dark freckle at the corner of his mouth, only visible when he wasn’t smiling, made women pray he would frown at them. One of his hands waved at the crowd, and the other was tucked loosely under his suit jacket and white shirt into the pocket of his designer jeans, most likely holding the pair of dice he was famous for keeping on him at all times.

  The crowd surged with excitement when the ‘pretty boy’ of the group–if there could be a pretty boy in a group of men like this–followed Ryo. Yamamoto Shun waved enthusiastically, his perfect posture emphasizing his broad chest and slender height. Unlike the first two, he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket. Instead, he somehow made a dark gray, short-sleeved t-shirt look dressy. The V-neck was low enough to glimpse his chest, his sculpted, lean muscles just visible. His thick biceps tested the width of the shirt sleeves. Only a man like this could wear his hair long, the top half pulled up into a ponytail and the bottom trailing just around his shoulders, and still look like he could kick your ass. Yamamoto’s trademark heavy ring glinted under the room’s lights on his middle finger as he waved. BAM! There it was. His million dollar smile. The crowd grew even louder.

  Osei Sano, much more quietly explosive than Yamamoto, but full of as much energy, walked in with controlled poise. Like Shun, Sano never had any problem filling out his shirts. Today his simple red button-up shirt and unbuttoned khaki jacket couldn’t hide his strength. He looked civilized by costuming only. Sano wore black wingtips. His dark black hair sleekly cut to fall shorter in the back and longer in the front over one eye. His jaw was strong, coming to an angular point with his chin. Probably the most distracting feature he had, other than his physique, was his lips. On a woman, they would be called plump or full. They parted in a smile to reveal his straight white teeth as he walked.

  Yoh Gakino walked out with a bounce in his step, both hands waving enthusiastically as he brought up the rear. His long legs and torso easily ate up the ground. His dark green, knit shirt clung to his long arms and chest, emphasizing his height. He was dressed casually next to the other four, but it didn’t seem to matter, at least not to Eloise. She’d always been partial to Yoh because of his role as the happy fool. He smiled and laughed and just…enjoyed life. Even now, he carried the broadest smile. He seemed to single out individual fans to wave at and, when one of the girls blew him exuberant air kisses, he threw his head back and laughed his wonderfully special laugh, a laugh she’d only ever heard from him—pure happiness and silly joy. He radiated sunshine and warmth to his fans. Unlike the other Idols, his hair was slightly messy in a non-styled way. Black strands of short hair stuck up at the back of his head, bouncing with his steps. In front, his hair swept across his forehead and tucked behind one ear. On the other side, the stylists had tried to make the short hairs lay flat against his head, but a few rebels floated up charmingly. He made her happy just looking at him.

  Finishing their entrance, Tenshi bowed to the fans as one.

  Tenshi. Though they’re name meant angel in Japanese, here they were.[1] In the flesh. In utterly fabulous flesh. She swallowed, her throat tight. She heard a small high-pitched whine, and realized she was the source of the sound.

  She had to get a grip.

  She could imagine what might happen if she didn’t. News at 11, Global Incident: Daughter of American Senator Mauls Pop Idols When Japanese Band Visits Taiwan.

  And she was fine, really. Completely fine. It was perfectly normal to try to bend Yoh’s will with her mind by repeating the mantra look at me, look at me. Sure. Who wouldn’t do that?

  Gakino Yoh smiled and waved, staring into the sea of pink. His view was blocked by cameras, phones, posters, concert uchiwas, flowers, waving hands, cheering, and crying, but he tried to look through all that, noting individual faces and smiling at each girl. Many of them had been here for hours, and that meant something to him.

  Walking into the signing hall, he turned and caught Sano’s eye. Sano’s raised eyebrows seemed to say ‘Here we go again.’ Fan meet-and-greets exhausted Sano, but Gakino loved them. Seeing the smiles in the crowd, knowing Tenshi made people happy. It didn’t get better than that. And the energy of Tenshi’s fans was infectious. It always filled him with nervous excitement even though he’d been doing this for nine years. He knew it couldn’t go on forever, so he’d enjoy it while it lasted. He grinned at a cluster of girls wearing t-shirts with his face on them. Shaking his head, he remembered Tenshi’s early days. He couldn’t have imagined then a point in his life where he would be looking at his face on a t-shirt.

  Jogging up the short set of stairs to settle behind the signing table, he watched the rest of Tenshi to time their greeting. They always bowed to the crowd as a group before they sat down. Their fans deserved respect and gratitude and Tenshi made sure they got it. The fans waved back, screaming, each holding signs that proclaimed their favorite member. Scanning for his fans, he wondered if they would still love them if they knew who he really was.

  Gakino sat down and pushed up his sleeves. Raising his eyes to the fans again, his attention was caught by the one point of calm in the crowd. Unlike the others, she was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, and she held no signs, clutching an old battered paperback instead. She didn’t wave or take photos, remaining silent and still. She seemed, in fact, to be pulling against the movement, bending but not moving in the direction of the exit. As their eyes met, she nervously looked down and tucked strands of her long hair behind her ear.

  “Eh?”

  Sano’s head turned in his direction, hearing his sound of surprise, a question on his face.

  “There’s someone different out there.”

  “Oh? Where?”

  “She has curly brown hair—maybe an American. She’s just standing there.” He gestured, nodding his chin toward her. “I wonder if she’s really here to see us.”

  Over hearing, Shun pitched his voice into that light, playful tone he reserved for Super-Idol mode and added, “She’s here to see me, of course.” He winked and flashed his infamous smile. The girls nearby, who couldn’t hear their conversation, screamed as if on cue.

  Gakino laughed at their reaction and so did Shun, but he wondered what the truth was. What would she do? How did an American get to a Tenshi event in Taiwan?

  *

  For the last hour, he’d been sneaking glances at The Foreign Girl—whom he had started to call Curly-chan. She was still in-line, and if he wasn’t mistaken she studied him more than the other members.

  The fans were waiting in a massive group, but as they neared the table they chose a smaller queue to meet a member individually. This was the first time in a long time he felt nervous about who was lining up for his signature. It was almost her turn. And, apparently, he wasn’t the only Tenshi member who noticed.

  “Oi! Yoh!” Shun called.

  Gakino leaned back to look at Shun. “Nani?”

  Shun mouthed, “The guy she picks buys the rest of us dinner.” There was no question
about who he meant.

  “No problem. I remembered my wallet today,” he called back in Japanese. “But I don’t think I’ll need it.” Gakino had to ask the girl in front of him to repeat her name. He was distracted, suddenly curious to know what languages Curly-chan spoke. He looked back at her, catching her eye again before she quickly looked away. If she didn’t speak Japanese and if she decided to meet him, could he risk speaking English here?

  He considered the fans in front of him. There were only ever five fans near enough to hear what he might say. Was that number small enough for Yoh–the lovable Tenshi fool–to risk speaking fluent English? He knew what his manager would say.

  Shaking his head clear, he smiled at the girl who stepped in front of him. It didn’t matter who Curly-chan chose. She was singular, certainly, but that shouldn’t make her special. Every Tenshi fan mattered. He would sign autographs and say hello and refuse to look anywhere but right in front of him. He waved at another young fan as she walked away.

  “Hi.”

  He turned to greet his next fan and saw jeans and a white t-shirt and a tumble of wild hair. Curly-chan. She’d chosen him. He looked up and his eyes met hers.

  “Hi,” she repeated, still standing behind the queue line. She bowed.

  He returned the gesture, and she walked closer, stopping at the edge of the table.

  “Hi,” she said again, waving a little.

  “Hi.”

  Curly-chan blinked and then coughed, clearing her throat. “I think you’re great.” She blushed, giving him a thumbs up. “Not only you, of course, everyone,” she added gesturing to the other men at the table.

  He hesitated, unsure. Like the rest of his fans, she clearly assumed that he didn’t speak English. She talked slowly and relied on gestures. He noted the battered book clutched in her hands and stared, trying to make out the title.