Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I am utterly speechless.
“But are—are any of these men your current boyfriends?” he asks.
“I’m never sure when to use that term,” I admit, rolling past the thin film of disapproval in his voice. “Is a boyfriend someone you have sex with more than once? Can you have a one-night boyfriend? A weekend boyfriend? Or is it necessary to have the boyfriend-girlfriend talk after a specified amount of time spent dating? Regardless, no, none of those men are current boyfriends by any definition.”
Hot Brit clears his throat, reaching forward to straighten a book on the coffee table. “Okay.”
I watch him, fighting a smile.
“Would you like to hear the show premise?” he asks once he seems to have finished clutching his pearls.
I’m willing to let him run through the entire ruse if he’s so well prepared. “Knock yourself out, Colin.”
He takes a beat before speaking, and when I look at him, I see flat disappointment in his gaze. I don’t know what I did, but I’m delighted anyway. If I could get paid for disappointing white men in suits, I would be a gazillionaire.
Regrouping, he begins, “I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of arranged marriages—”
“Oh boy.”
“—in that most in the modern day are quite successful.”
Okay, that is not where I thought he was going with that.
“When we let people who know us well choose our partner, they generally do a pretty good job. But then I also had the thought the other day that most of us have seen so many portrayals of love—in person, on-screen, in literature—that we should be good at identifying real emotion. Don’t you think?”
I shrug. “Actually, I’m amazed at the often limited capacity of emotional intelligence in adults.”
“What if we put you in a house with twelve men—”
“Well, now I’m definitely listening.”
“—who are each trying to win your heart—”
“Keep talking.”
“—but instead of you choosing who gets to stay in the competition each week, we’ll have the audience live vote over the twenty-four hours after the episode airs on who stays and who goes. The eliminated contestant or contestants will find out at the start of the next episode.”
“So you let the audience vote on who they want me to end up with? I have no say?”
He tilts his head from side to side. “Yes and no. The audience will have to gauge your reactions. But I am hoping there will be some great options in there, because here’s what I think could make it really interesting: We’ll cast the contestants based on your DNADuo compatibility scores. I assume you’re familiar with it?”
It feels like my heart stops. That’s River’s technology. “Oh, I’m familiar.”
“Some scores will be low, some will be higher,” he says. “But we’ll make sure there is at least one Gold Match or better in the cast. The twist is to see who can better find your soulmate: technology or the audience.”
I struggle to hide my shock. “You’re serious.”
Hot Brit nods. “Your books are international bestsellers, Felicity. You have readers in every age and socioeconomic demographic—and your biggest fans are right in the heart of the reality TV audience. This overlap could be very advantageous for your book sales as well as our ratings.”
I stare out the window. I was wrong: it isn’t satisfying to have him be so forthcoming that the bottom line is why I’m here. He wants me because my brand—happy romance—would play well with audiences. This man would have no way of knowing I’m no longer happily romantic, but given his industry, he’d tell me that doesn’t matter as long as I can put on a good show. It all makes me feel even more pessimistic about love.
“I know a lot of these dating shows are manufactured or cynical,” he continues, oddly reading my mind, “but I think this could be different. Because it’s you. I’m drawn to you, and we’ve only just met; viewers will feel the same. Your readers will want you to find love.”
This one is like an arrow to the heart. My sweet readers do want me to find love, and it appears to be the one thing I cannot give them. Well, that and a new book.
Hot Brit leans in, green eyes earnest and soft. “I truly believe that women want to watch other women find happiness.”
As I blink back over to him, something cools in my blood. “That seems like such a nice thing to say, so why does it sound ironic when you say it?”
He looks taken aback for a second, his expression crashing. “I—No, I truly mean it.”
I push to stand. “Thanks for making the time. I’m not interested.”
five CONNOR
Felicity leaves so abruptly the whiplash slaps my thoughts against my cranium and I simply stare after her, mute. I was fifty-fifty on whether a woman as stunning and successful as she is would be into the idea of starring in a reality show, but by no means did I expect the offer to outright piss her off. If I can’t even pitch this show without getting it horribly—and mysteriously—wrong, what hope is there that I’ll be able to make it a success?