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“Maybe.”

“If it gets any worse ...” She trails off.

“Then I’ll step in.”

“Good. Why don’t you and Fiona come over my place for dinner tonight? Give yourself a break and me some company?”

“I’d love that.”

“I’ll see you around seven?”

Beep. Beep. An unknown number pops up.

“Yes. Gotta go. I have another call.” I switch over. “Hello?”

“Yes, I’m looking for Hartley Warren.”

“This is she.”

“Ms. Warren, this is Holy Ryan from Netflix. We’re calling to let you know you’ve earned a spot on the Secret Heiress contest.”

My heart pounds. “A-Are you serious?”

“Yes. Are you accepting our offer?”

“Yes.” The people in front of me turn to stare.

“Excellent. I’m emailing you the terms to you. I’ll need it returned to me tonight. Filming will start in two weeks. We’ll shoot it all at once and then air it weekly leading up to Christmas. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure contract, of course, agreeing to keep the information about the show under wraps until it airs.”

“Of course.”

“Give it a look over and get back to me. We want to get the editing finished soon.”

“I understand. You’ll have it tonight.” This was the good news I needed to salvage my day. Coffee forgotten, I call Fiona and Ava in a three-way conversation and walk outside so I can jump up and down and squeal. They celebrate with me, and I start to make plans. I need to ask for time off and figure out what to do with Fiona while I’m gone. I don’t trust her alone in the house with Dad. If he goes on a bender, and she sees it, her heart will be broken. Maybe a visit with her honorary sister, Ava, is past due.

Scanning the PDF the moment I get it, I make a note of the dates. I return to work, walking on cloud nine.

“Chet.”

“Yes?”

“I need to request time off.”

“For what?”

“To film a show in LA.”

His eyes widen. “One of our employees is going to work on an industry gig? This will be great for business. Who will you be working for?”

I swallow. “I’ll actually be in front of the screen for once.”

“What? I didn’t realize you were interested in acting.”

“I’m not. It’s a contest for Netflix.” I explain everything, and he looks thoughtful.

“I’ll give you all the time you need as long as you agree to push the store.”

“What do you mean?”


Tags: Shyla Colt Romance