Money Shot by N.J. Harlow

Author:N.J. Harlow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hollywood, movies, film, tabloid, paparazzi
Publisher: N.J. Harlow

If you enjoyed Money Shot, check out the following excerpt from N.J. Harlow’s novel...

"Rom-Com"

by N.J. Harlow

I used to think I was Eve in a previous life. But then again, if that were true, I would have made the serpent eat the apple.

Doesn't really matter. These days, no Adam stands a chance against me.

Because I'm the new keeper of the Garden of Eden. Right now it's known as a television news network. I, Sydney Hack, a/k/a Neutron Syd, (Okay, okay, so I've fired a few people) have been running it for a year and a half.

And the ratings have not budged one inch with news anchored by the pageant fembots. If they don't move in six months, I'm out of a job.

That scraping sound you hear? Someone upstairs sharpening the guillotine.

Sydney Hack, white courtesy phone, please. Your career is calling.

Time for a pre-emptive strike.

So I'm changing the rules tonight. I'm going to start giving our target demographic, women over thirty, what they really want.

And what they want on their "to-do" list is on his way from the front door. He struts, as if in slow motion, a chiseled six-foot-two trophy buck with tousled black hair and a chin that could carve granite. I cross my legs and playfully rock a Kelly green four-inch heel on my toe and smile, calling my dimples and high cheekbones into service as he makes his way through the crowded, dimly-lit restaurant. The brass rails and colorful tiffany lamps are suddenly painted in sepia tones as his powder blue eyes stand out like they were surrounded by black velvet. His five o'clock shadow is a light brush stroke of virility.

Members of my target demographic drool, posture dramatically improves as c-cups raise their hands for attention, and forks are suspended in midair over crème brulee as he passes. I can see it in their eyes as they note my bar stool is his destination.

He's ten years younger than her.

Why not me?

And I know he's the key to the ratings.

Damn, it's so simple. Robbing the cradle. Age inappropriate. Cougar newscast. Or call it whatever. Older woman, younger man.

I shove my long copper tangles back behind one ear, widen the eyes that have been dipped in the Caribbean (thanks to the kind folks at Eye-World, with several convenient locations to serve you) and stand to greet him, my heels taking my five-ten slender frame up to his level. I'm the long-stemmed Red Queen of the Garden.

Scott Harry extended his hand. "Good to see you again, Ms. Hack." His deep, smooth voice flowed, the edges of the words smoothed over as they segued into one another.

"Sydney, please," I said, sliding back onto the stool. "Our table won't be ready for a half-hour. Would you like a drink?"

"Never drink on a job interview," he said, smiling, dimples to match mine, then hopping up onto a bar stool. He leaned toward me, and the faint scent of his Polo cologne followed.

"The interview was this afternoon," I said. "This is the negotiation."

He tried to hold back a smile, but couldn't.

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