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Nina Charles is an actress, struggling to find herself and her way in sunny L.A. After nonstop bad luck, she’s relieved when she finally lands a gig as an entertainment specialist for an exclusive, private resort. She promptly realizes that the resort caters to rich men looking for a wild time. And that her role as an entertainment specialist, there to meet the “needs” of the guests, isn’t exactly the role of a lifetime. But she’s intrigued when she’s paired with reclusive billionaire Griffin Wallace. A tech guru with a hard body, sharp wit, and beautiful eyes, Nina quickly finds herself falling for him.
But when their fantasy world ends abruptly, can Nina and Griffin figure out a way to be with each other or will misunderstandings and secrets prevent them from building a future together?
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Falling and Failing
I shouldn’t have worn a thong. I always went overboard and now my exposed butt cheeks were paying the price, I thought to myself, as I attempted not to show how uncomfortable I was sitting on the hot ground waiting for my number to be called.
I looked at the other girls around me who were also scantily clad, but at least they had some clothes on, which was more than could be said for me. To be honest, a lot of women in L.A. walked around in bikinis, so I didn’t feel too out of place. But my thong-bikini swimsuit covered in sequins was probably too much even for Los Angeles. I looked like a desperate Vegas showgirl.
As I shifted uncomfortably, I looked over the crowd in front of me. We were all nervously waiting for our big break, but I refused to do it standing up. We were going to be here for hours whether I stood in line or not. I wanted to break Kenny in half for the mess he had gotten me into. Firstly, this swimsuit had been his idea. Secondly, I didn’t appreciate sitting on a curb outside of an abandoned building, half-naked, hoping I was in the right place. When I got home, I promised myself I would wring Kenny’s neck.
Kenny was my little cousin, agent and landlord. He taught kickboxing and cycling at a boutique gym for the ultra-wealthy when he wasn’t moonlighting as my agent. In truth, I hadn’t asked him to be my agent; he signed himself up for the role. And as I expected, he wasn’t much good at it.
I had only moved to L.A. two weeks ago and Kenny, being the doting cousin that he was, had decided to take me under his wing. He wanted to show me the ropes. Kenny knew nothing about Hollywood or acting, but he assumed living in L.A. made him qualified by default.
Against my better judgment, when he told me about the casting call for swimsuit models for a random reality TV show and suggested I wear something racy to get myself noticed, I decided that maybe he was right. So I decided to wear this horrific swimsuit. Kenny and his boyfriend, Cyril, had done a good job convincing me that it was a good idea.
“Flaunt your assets,” Cyril had said. I was flaunting my assets alright, most of my ass was on show.
At one point, I noticed two different lines seemed to be forming, so I eventually I stood up and made my way to the shorter one, hoping that I wouldn’t have to waste an entire day auditioning for a role where I just stood around wearing a bikini and smiling into a camera.
Hours later, I finally made it into a nondescript room that contained a desk and a few chairs. Sitting behind the desk was a scowling elderly woman and a younger man who wore an easy smile as if life amused him. Or maybe my swimsuit amused him.
“Where are your clothes?” were the first words out of the woman’s mouth.
“I thought this was a… umm… swimsuit model audition…” I said, feeling my cheeks heat. The guy looked embarrassed for me.
“Clearly not.” The old lady’s tone was curt and made me feel even more foolish. Her distaste towards me was almost palpable. She fingered the pearls around her neck and shook her head disapprovingly as she studied me.
“I think the swimsuit model auditions were across the hall. They finished up an hour ago,” the guy volunteered kindly.
“I must have been confused. There were two lines and I had assumed the shorter line was for… never mind… Anyway, sorry for wasting your time.” I awkwardly stood there, trying to plan a graceful exit. I knew that as soon as I turned around, they would know more about my body than my ex-boyfriend. I side-shuffled towards the door with as much dignity as I could muster.
“You should be sorry. We’re busy people,” said the old woman bitterly as she watched me shuffle away. I was astounded by her level of rudeness.
Being a big softie, I immediately wanted to cry. I could feel my voice thickening as I said, “Don’t worry, I have no intention of further wasting your time.” I gave up saving my pride and just turned to leave. As expected, the old lady gasped once she saw my almost bare butt and I felt myself turning beet red. I wondered if my butt turned red too.
I tried to think of something to say, maybe a really good exit line, so that she would feel terrible for treating me so badly. All I could come up with was, “Thank you for your time.”
I wanted to tell her that I didn’t need to put up with her condescending attitude, but I was always polite, even when it was undeserving. In fact, being polite was probably my biggest flaw. I was one of those people who apologized to inanimate objects if I bumped into them.