I was just enjoying this long weekend. Happy Canada Day weekend, my fellow Canucks. And early Happy Independence Day, neighbours to the south. I'm sitting in a lawn chair in the oasis that is my backyard, with an ice-cold, tasty adult beverage in one hand and my Kindle in the other. I'm setting an example for others on how to long-weekend properly. It's a tough job but somebody's got to do it.
Note to self - invest in a hammock. That would be great back here.
I have things I could be doing this weekend. In fact, I did mow the lawn and make a batch of strawberry-rhubarb jam. I'm just not going to kill myself to get the rest of it done. The weeds are doing fine in the flower garden. They'll still be there when I get to them next week. And organizing the storage room is more of a rainy-weekend job, right? If I get an unexpected burst of energy, I'll jump right on that to-do list. I promise.
In the meantime, I want to ensure that your e-reader is well stocked for a full day of lazing about. To keep the theme of the summer blockbuster (in case you had a trip to the movies on the agenda), I have a new bundle out that will transport you directly to Tinseltown, where you'll get three full novels for less than $5.
Now get out there and relax as hard as you can! Happy July long weekend.
SCREEN IDOL - Sydney Richardson didn’t order the
Greek god who appeared on her doorstep, but since he’s there, she intends to
put him to work at her fundraiser. Chris Peck, one of Hollywood’s top stars,
only plans to play along until he gets the chance at the role of a lifetime.
But when his audition interferes with the promise he made to Sydney, he’d
better hope that Hollywood magic and reality can co-exist.
DRAMA QUEEN - Protecting her family has left actress Layla Andrews
scrambling to hold onto her career. Russ Vukovich, her show’s fight
coordinator, helps her out of a sticky situation, and slips under her defenses.
But when he discovers the truth, the lies that used to protect them could
destroy them both.
A sneak peek at SCREEN IDOL
She peeked through the peephole and spied a man in a black tuxedo. A
suit she would have ignored, but the shock of a tuxedo woke her up a little.
She squinted and took a second look: tall, dark hair, light eyes. He was very
handsome in a movie star kind of way. At least, Sydney assumed he was handsome.
The fish-eyed view and lack of caffeine might have been coloring her
perception. “Who are you?”
“Your slave for the day.”
It was much too early for this. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m Chris Peck.”
“You look like him. Kinda. Why are you at my house?”
“I really am Chris Peck. I play Zeus on Olympus. You entered the show’s sweepstakes on the network’s
website and won first prize of a Greek slave for the day, namely yours truly.
You got a confirmation call to expect your slave from sunrise to sunset today.”
Her synapses started to fire. Slowly. Olympus was a hit primetime cable drama about a group of Greek gods
on Mount Olympus during the decline of Greece’s golden age. It was part Spartacus, part Game of Thrones, and part Hercules.
She had submitted a ton of entries to the sweepstakes. They were offering a
$1000 DVD library of historically-based television shows and documentaries as
second prize. The first place prize never even registered because she wasn’t a
diehard fan of the show.
She watched it semi-regularly. She liked a lot of the actors but
despised one in particular, so it came out a wash. To be honest, the only ones
she made sure not to miss were the episodes where her favorite drama actor was
guest starring as Dionysus. Seeing the defunct FBI show’s once team leader
playing the god of sex, drugs, and rock and roll in a toga was a beautiful
thing to behold. Sydney enjoyed splashing around in the shallow end of the pool
on occasion, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
She hadn’t paid much attention to the show’s lead actor. In hindsight,
that might have been a mistake, because the king of the gods was standing on
the other side of her front door, and—from what she could tell—he was heavenly.
Sydney flipped the deadbolt off and cracked open the door, leaving the
security chain on. She rubbed her bleary eyes and repositioned her glasses. It
was definitely him. Chris Peck. Zeus. The peephole didn’t do this guy any
favors. He was much cuter in person than he looked on television. Taller too.
And not in a toga. Whoever had said that a well-tailored suit was to a woman
what lingerie was to a man hadn’t been kidding. His tuxedo was giving her some
naughty ideas about going back to bed that had nothing to do with an extra hour
of shut-eye. It had been a very long while, but she was pretty sure when a
clean-cut, brown-haired, hazel-eyed Greek god magically appeared on a woman’s
doorstep, sleep was not the first thought that should come to mind.
Unfortunately, tingles or no tingles, she had too much on her to-do list to
waste any time on a toga party fantasy, let alone on an actual god at the door.
Sydney tilted her head and stared at him. “Wow. You really are Chris Peck.”
She was rewarded with a blinding smile. “And you are Sydney
Richardson. At least I hope you are, because if you aren’t this is really
embarrassing.”
“What do you mean I got a call? Nobody called me,” she insisted. If
she’d won a prize, they should have at least contacted her to make sure she’d
be home for delivery. This was a hell of a delivery.
“Yes, they did. My assistant says she did. She left a message
confirming the date and time. And she sent flowers.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Yes, she did.”
Tuxedo Boy was going to argue with her before she’d had any coffee?
“I’m pretty sure I would have remembered somebody telling me I was going to
have a slave show up at the butt crack of dawn on a Saturday,” she snapped.
There was no way in hell she would have agreed to this Saturday. Next weekend,
or the one after that, would have been much more convenient. Today was
absolutely not an option.
The suicidal actor opened his mouth to defend himself again when
Sydney waved him off. “Wait a minute.” It was difficult to push through the fog
without any caffeine, but there was something there. “Is your assistant’s name
Kristin?”
“Yes.”
“There was a message on my machine, on Wednesday, I think. Some girl
named Kristin said she was cancelling my regular nine o’clock appointment on
Saturday. She didn’t leave a number. Since I don’t know a Kristin, and I didn’t
have any regular appointments scheduled, I didn’t worry about it. I think the
message is still on my voicemail.” Sydney smiled in victory. She had a memory
like a steel trap. It was rusted shut on occasion, but it was working fine this
morning.
“Oh, crap.”
“What?”
“It sounds like my fight trainer got a dozen roses and a note saying I
was looking forward to my day of servitude.”
She wasn’t pleased to be awake, and this whole waste of time was a
pain in the ass, but that was pretty funny. “Maybe she likes roses.”
“His name is Russ, and he’s former navy. I’m thinking not. So how can
I serve you this morning?”
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