|Girl of My Dreams|
by Morgan Mandel
Still, I realize there are still some readers who missed out on the event. Fortunately, Girl of My Dreams is still available to them for less than a dollar, 99 cents to be exact.
And, if you're an Amazon Prime member, I absolutely encourage you to borrow the book! Why? This month authors actually get paid more for borrows than for sales! So, if you don't know which book to borrow, or sometimes don't bother using up your borrow ability, Girl of My Dreams is saying to you, "Please borrow me!"
For those who've already used up your month's borrow, I and Girl of My Dreams would still be very happy if you bought her at http://amzn.com/B0065R11QO
Follow the madcap adventures of a straitlaced assistant who sneaks onto the set of a reality show to win a billionaire.
When the producer discovers her ruse, he’s beside himself with rage. He’d thought better of her, but it looks like she’s only a gold digger.
What’s worse, she’s advancing in the rounds. She may even win the billionaire, but is he the guy she really wants?
Groaning, Hollywood producer Blake Caldwell brushed a strand of black hair from his eyes. The latest news from his assistant, Jillian Baker, was grim. Scores of contestants from his premier television show had rushed from rehearsal and were crammed into the ladies room upchucking.
“I’ve called an ambulance. Do you want me to go with them?” she asked.
Her voice was muffled. He could hear toilets flushing in the background, along with other unmentionable sounds he didn’t care to identify.
“Can you give me a head count? How many are left?”
“Wait a minute. I’ll check.”
Blake’s heart pounded. His shirt stuck to his back as he awaited the verdict. A few days ago, before the power outages, he’d had time to spare, but now he was up against the wall. It was two hours before the audience shoot. The stage and script were set for twenty-five contestants. Could he deliver them?
“Twenty-six are gone between the originals and alternates,” was the answer.
The ratings were down. Mecca was dying. It could not survive another season without a hit. Neither could he. He’d sunk time, money and effort into this project. The boys upstairs had given it a go, only if he’d produce and direct it. This was his chance to prove he could make it without the connections of his actress-mother Barbara Branton. A foul-up would turn him into a has-been at the age of thirty.
“Blake, should I go with them?” Jillian asked again.
Her voice was alert and in crisis mode.
“You’re not a doctor. I need you here. We have a show to run.”
Almost as soon as he’d hung up, he found Jillian standing before him. Through all the commotion, her hair was still pushed back from her face and her glasses perched firmly on her nose. He had to hand it to her for keeping her cool.
“I’ve called food management and alerted them of the situation. They’ve closed the cafeteria,” she said.
“Good. We don’t need anyone else sick. The coordinators were hit, too. What about the survivors?”
“They’re already in Makeup.”
Blake rubbed his chin. “Fine. Now, all we need is number twenty-five.”
Thinking, he stared straight ahead. He had a feeling the answer was right in front of his nose, if he could only see it. His loyal assistant stood at attention, ready to spring into action. Hard-working, intuitive, creative, Jillian was a miracle worker. She always came through for him, but this time he couldn’t fault her if she failed.A gleam flashed in her eyes.
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