Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
A short, but intense round of applause further lifts my spirits. I haven’t lost my team’s trust, and it’s a gorgeous winter day outside, perfect for filming the ice-skating challenge tonight.
We just need to get the new cast members here—ASAP.
“The ‘sweet’ pick is proving more of a challenge,” Ainsley adds, making my stomach sink again. “Ashley is pregnant and battling a bad case of morning sickness, Kitty took a job on Single Men Seeking Soul Mates and is in the final three, and Priscilla joined a cult.”
My brows snap together. “A cult?”
Ainsley nods, glancing back at her cell. “But she said it’s a nice cult. They only have to work four hours a day, get all the quinoa and kale they can eat, and she can leave whenever she wants to. But she doesn’t want to.” Ainsley glances back up. “Apparently, the cult members are nicer than her ex-husband and she really likes kale.”
“I feel that. Kale’s the stuff,” Trevor says on his way by, touching gentle fingers to Ainsley’s shoulder. “You okay, kid? I thought you were going to pass out there for a minute.”
Ainsley blushes and exhales a breathy laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks. I just wasn’t expecting all that. Leo said this was going to be a nice reality show.”
Trevor shoots a knowing grin my way, his teeth bright in his golden-brown face. “Yeah, Leo’s an optimist. It’s cute. Almost like he hasn’t spent three years rolling around in the reality show mud with the rest of us.”
“I’m not cute,” I say. “I’m determined. This show is going to be different.”
“If you say so.” Trevor glances back at Ainsley. “Want me to grab you a sandwich from the deli? I’m betting this one will keep you too busy to get lunch.”
“Yes, thank you,” Ainsley says, her blush deepening. “An Italian with—”
“Extra banana peppers and no cheese because of the lactose thing,” Trevor cuts in with a wink. “I know what you like.”
As he walks away, Ainsley sighs.
I fight a smile. I’ve given up on true love myself, but I still have hope for the younger generation. Rolling the dice on forever is something best done while you’re young and too dumb to understand the magnitude of the risk you’re taking, giving your heart away to a fallible human creature.
At twenty-seven, with her directing career off to a great start, Ainsley is in the perfect position to give love a chance.
“You should ask him out,” I murmur when Trevor’s out of earshot.
Ainsley tugs at her ponytail with a nervous giggle. “Oh no, I couldn’t. We work together!”
“So what? You don’t have the power to hire or fire him; I do. You’re ethically in the clear.”
She bites her lip. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me that way.”
“Um, I think he might,” I say. “He’s buying you a sandwich, and he already knew your order. That’s man-speak for ‘I like you and want to make out with your face.’ Trust me, I know these things.”
She shakes her head hard enough to send her glasses sliding down her nose. As she pushes them back up, she insists, “No way. He’s just a nice person. He’s sweet to everyone. I’m not special.” Before I can argue she adds, “So, it looks like we won’t be able to bring in a previously vetted applicant, but there’s still hope. Look at this.” She holds up her phone, revealing a brightly colored website.
I squint, reading aloud, “The 55th Annual Hotelier’s Conference and Trade Show.”
“It’s this weekend, with over two thousand people attending from all over the country,” Ainsley says. “Surely, one of them has to be a sweet, upbeat innkeeper who’s up for extending his or her trip to the city and earning extra money and visibility for their business. I’ve already pulled up the names of the innkeepers attending from rural Vermont and New Hampshire. They’re from quaint mountain towns, most likely have experience being patient with obnoxious city folk coming to buy maple syrup, and may be less inclined to throw a punch if things get intense on set. Additionally, we’ll be able to send an assistant north to grab anything they might need for the shoot and have that back on set within a day.”
“Yes!” I clap my hands together. “You’re a genius.”
Ainsley beams. “I know. And I already booked us two tickets for the vendor expo. It starts this afternoon. After lunch, I’ll put together a few packets to hand out to potential candidates and meet you by the Javits Center at two thirty.”
“Perfect. But put together ten packets. We should cast a wide net. The more fish we drag on deck, the better the chances we’ll catch the sweet, patient one we need.”
And if worse comes to worst, I can always work with another personality type. Conventional reality show wisdom suggests casting at least one unproblematic person for the audience to root for, but Eduardo, the innkeeper from Miami, is a cinnamon roll beneath his sarcastic façade. Dirk from San Diego is a blowhard, but Millie from Bad Dog, Minnesota, also seems like a solid human being. She’s kooky and honestly believes her inn is haunted by spirits, including a ghost hamster, but she’s a sweetheart.