Chapter 1
HE TICKLED MY
FOOT: one big, strong hand holding onto the ball of my foot, the other hand’s
forefinger running languidly down the curve of my instep.
I squirmed and
tried to pull my foot free of his grip.
He scowled at me and gave me one of those roguish, stunning smiles of
his. No wonder women—and quite a few
men—had been in love with him for the last two decades. It was more than the fact that he literally
got better looking every damn year. It
was more than the amazing shape he kept his body in.
It was even more
than the restless leviathan between his muscular legs that was now discreetly
covered by my Hello Kitty pink and white sheets.
Brad Pitt was
just the sexiest man to ever live…and—tabloid rumors aside—he was a great guy…
a humanitarian. Heck, he’d done more than
FEMA for New Orleans.
“I’m not done
yet,” he admonished, his voice deep with want.
“Well, stop with
the tickling, then, and get to it,” I said, pressing my free foot into his
hard, hairless chest. Good god, his
flesh was soft and warm… and he smelled delicious.
He raised an
eyebrow and smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”
As Brad reached
over to the bedside table, his thick fingers caught hold of the nail polish
applicator, and then he set to work once more on painting my toenails. A subtle pink called Unabashed.
I can only
imagine he does the same thing for Angelina…
And isn’t it
nice that she lets him come here too.
Those two really love their fans…
Brad looked up
and frowned, and I realized a phone was ringing somewhere.
“The machine
will get it,” I said, wiggling my toes at him.
He smiled and dipped his head to resume my pedicure.
I heard the
machine click on, and then a beep. And
then my boss’s voice shrilled into the room, as if the damn machine was right
by my head—which was ridiculous, since I kept my answering machine on my desk
in the studio.
“Hope! I know you’re there… where else would you
be!” Janine groused. “You never leave
the house.”
That made me
mad. I was not some hermit. I went out all the time: to Wal-Mart, to the
fruit and vegetable market, to…
Well, I wasn’t
much for painting the town red, but I was not some pathetic shut in… I just
wasn’t!
“Hope…this is a
code red emergency! I haven’t gotten any
new cover shots from you, and Olivia is getting nervous.”
I groaned and
looked up at the ceiling. This was bad… very
bad.
“This is bad…
very bad!” Janine echoed.
Brad looked to
me confused, and I could only shrug my shoulders. Bye, bye Brad… hello reality.
I woke from my
daydream sitting at the desk in my studio, my mouth dry as cotton balls, my
body feeling hot and sweaty all over.
“Pick up, pick
up, pick up!” Janine brayed.
My heart leapt
and I lunged for the telephone. “I’m
here,” I said breathlessly. My daydreams
featuring Brad always took it out of me, even if we’d never gone any further
than a naked foot massage, or his washing my hair… also naked, in the shower…
“Thank god!”
Janine bellowed with relief. “You’ve got
to fix this.”
I had to fix
it. Me?
Why didn’t that thought fill me with confidence?
“Hope… are you
still there?” Janine called from my
phone. She was the owner, CEO, and
Senior Editor of Branded Publishing, and she was the busiest woman I’d ever
met: organized like a general or an accountant… and quite possibly the most
annoying human being on the planet.
I covered the
phone’s receiver and took a deep breath, held it for a ten count, and reminded
myself—again—that it was the copious amount of work I was getting from Janine
and her ever expanding e-publishing house that insured I was caught up on my
mortgage and not working shifts at Wal-Mart or Denny’s.
“I’m here… just
had to load some images onto my laptop.”
Which wasn’t exactly true.
I already had
all my recent photos loaded on my laptop… and as I clicked them open they were
coming up… lacking. Really lacking.
I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what
was wrong with them.
The young man
I’d shot was handsome and very well built, and the girl was what they’d call
rockin’ in the body department.
But the pictures
of them together just seemed so… flat… lifeless…
Maybe he was too
buff? Maybe the shine on her recently
capped teeth and spanking new breasts was causing havoc with the lighting?
Whatever it was,
none of my new batch of images was going to even make it to my next round of
cuts. And I needed a cover for the new
Olivia Lovelace novel by next week.
“You know we
need to get the advance copies out to the reviewers by next week, don’t you?”
Janine queried.
“Yes,” I sighed,
clicking rapidly through my new collection of mediocre shots, hoping that speed
might make one of them look more appealing.
“Believe me, I know.”
“Hope, nothing
says cheap and rushed to romance bloggers more than sending out ARC copies with
no covers.”
“I know, I know…
and I promise I’ll have something gorgeous for you in plenty of time.” I just had no idea how. It was the middle of summer, and the bevy of
hot young men and pretty girls who usually signed up to model were away, back
home—wherever the hell that was—since college was over until fall.
“Olivia’s our
hottest burning star, so we need to keep her happy. She’s only contracted for
one more novel and she’s already let it slip that Doubleday and Penguin have
made offers.”
Oh… now
it all made sense. The unprecedented
hype and publicity for the new Olivia Lovelace novel, and why Janine was so
hell bent on getting the cover done.
Olivia had
already rejected my first cover, saying it looked too much like some of the
other covers I’d done before. That’s why
I hadn’t even looked at my stock photos and had plunged right into securing new
images with fresh faces.
I stared at a
picture that was almost good, almost passionate…and absolutely gratingly
generic.
Maybe my ego was
bruised? I mean, after having my first
effort brushed aside with such a prickly rebuke, I could just be looking at my
new crop of stills with an injured ego.
I clicked on the
“almost right” picture and threw it to Photoshop and played around with colors
and contrasts.
Still no good.
“Don’t worry,
Janine. I’ve got it all under
control. I promise.”
Janine sighed on
the other end of the connection. “I know
you do, babe. I know you do. It’s just that Olivia’s ebooks account for
over half our sales this quarter. I
can’t afford to lose her to a… Legacy Publishing House.” She said those last words with real venom in
her voice.
Janine had
started out in the traditional publishing world, working for Harlequin and then
St. Martin’s. But then ebooks went
viral, and the print publishing industry started cutting authors and whole
publishing lines.
Janine had been
one of those cut at the editorial level.
It had devastated her, and she’d been teetering on the edge of becoming
a statistic in the Print/eBook war when she ran into a fellow “downsized”
editor named Greta from a rival publisher, and her stinking rich ex-boyfriend
who owned half of downtown Dallas and three sports teams.
In her usual
browbeating manner, she pulled both her ex and the other editor into her wake,
and pitched them an idea off the top of her head. A new kind of publishing house where only
ebooks were put out and the prices for them could rival even those of
self-published ebooks.
She’d been
right, of course. And she and her fellow
downsized editor put out no less than twelve top ten Amazon romance novels in
the first year.
But this year
she’d ratcheted up the tension with two a month publications. And two months ago she’d added two new lines:
Hot Branded and Night Branded. Erotica
and Paranormal romance lines.
Just thinking
about it made me exhausted. I couldn’t
imagine putting out so many books.
Nevertheless, I was making the covers, and it was turning out to be more
and more hectic.
I had to. That or she’d find a new photographer.
And that would
be bad.
“I’ve got it
under control,” I told Janine, and then told her I’d call her in a couple days.
When I hung up I
called Vincent Call, my contact at the modeling agency.
“Need a model,
call Vincent Call!” the man cooed into the phone.
I rolled my
eyes. Good god, he was tacky.
“It’s Hope
Jones. I need two more models, and I
need them quick.”
“Sorry, toots,” the
little shitweasel said, sounding anything but sorry. “But we don’t have anyone we can send you
until next month.”
I huffed out my
held breath and fumed. “How about one of your competitors?” I cringed the
second the words left my mouth.
I heard him hiss
out the breath he’d taken. “I don’t have
any competition down here. This is San
Antonio, Texas, for crying out loud, not Manhattan!” And he hung up.
Crap. Not only didn’t I have any models coming in
for my much needed shoot, but I’d inadvertently pissed off my supplier. I’d have to send him some booze, or a
strip-o-gram.
First I needed
to find some models.
I checked the
phone book—zilch: turned out that Vincent the shitweasel really was the only
game in town.
I googled
modeling agencies in Houston, Dallas, and then for all of Texas. None, it turned out, were running any actual
models this time of year.
Models were out
of season.
I shook my head
and then rested it on my kitchen table.
Maybe if I
looked far enough back in my stock photos I’d find something I’d forgotten
about, something that was fresh and new looking.
Problem was that
before I started shooting racy covers for romance novels, I pretty much shot
weddings, birthdays, and graduation pictures…
I cringed just
remembering some of the dead eyed, pimply teenagers with too much eyeliner, too
much hairspray, and way too much cologne and perfume on. Thank god, you can’t smell that crap through
a picture.
If I didn’t find
a way to keep my position at Branded Publishing, then I might end up doing
portraits at Wal-Mart, if not stocking the shelves there as well.
I lifted my head
and there it was… a headache from hell—pounding, throbbing, sharp pains around
my eyes, and a heavy weight squeezing my frontal lobe.
I staggered over
to the cabinet in my kitchen where I kept my mini-pharmacy: band-aids, salves,
balms, first aid kit, ice packs, and painkillers.
I picked up my
bottle of Tylenol and found it empty.
When had I used the last ones?
I sighed deeply
and reached for my car keys. Prophetic
or not, I was going to have to go to Wal-Mart before I could go any further
with my model hunt.
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