This could be a tough sell.
“I’m producing a film. A documentary on relationship coaches, and I’d like your business to be the main focus.”
Few people could resist being on camera. Few people realized the power of film. Few people knew Reed Hunter’s skills to expose imposters with a camera.
“Why would you want to include me?” she asked, her voice direct, her gaze cautious, like she might be immune to his charm.
“I want you,” he said, upping the charisma. “You’re the best relationship coach in the country.”
Her face visibly relaxed and her scrutiny morphed into at least consideration and at last earned him a smile.
“Thank you. Who else is part of this film?”
He named two other relationship coaches he’d found on the internet, never intending to film either of them.
“What other films have you produced?” she asked.
“I’m not as well known as Michael Moore, but I won an IDA for my film on the Russian sex trade.” He left out the other films he’d done on people who conned and cheated their way through life.
“The IDA?”
“The International Documentary Association. It’s the industry’s best film award.”
“Nice.” A soft sigh lowered her shoulders and the tiny tension filled lines around her eyes relaxed. The barriers she’d erected between them slid down a notch.
“Within the documentary film arena, the IDA’s are as prestigious as the Oscars.” Some day he’d win that golden statue, but not with a film on dating.
“Tonight, we return to Dallas.” Lacey glanced at the woman standing beside her before she returned her attention to Reed. “Amanda is my marketing rep. Send me a DVD of one of your documentaries. Call her and make an appointment. We can discuss your offer,” she paused, “after I see one of your films.”
Success pumped like a narcotic through his veins, swelling his chest and head. Lacey Morgan was no different from all the other women he’d coerced over the years. Once she signed the release, Reed would reveal this scheming swindler and save men’s sexual arrangements from the likes of this relationship coach.
His camera would reveal how she made a living off susceptible, defenseless women with unrealistic promises.
Amanda placed a business card in his hand. “Our office hours are on the card. Call me.”
His jilted boss, Graham was right. Reed would film the lovely Ms. Morgan as a crusader for dating and then reveal her as a fake using people for their money.
“Thanks, ladies. See you soon.” He strolled away, the familiar pursuit of the hunt spiking his heart rate faster than running a marathon. Game on, baby. Game on.
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Thank you for reading!
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Secrets, Lies, and Online Dating. If you think I should write either Katie or Paige’s story, please send me an email at [email protected]. I’d like to hear your opinion.
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Sylvia McDaniel
@SylviaJMcDaniel
SylviaMcDanielAuthor
www.SylviaMcDaniel.com
[email protected]
A Sneak Peek at The Wanted Bride!
“I need a one-way ticket to anywhere,” Valerie Burrows commanded the girl behind the bus counter in downtown Dallas. A charred piece of her wedding veil sagged onto her face. Impatiently, she flipped the singed lace away, her throat closing off the tears that threatened her vision.
On what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she reeked of smoke, not flowers, saw red not white, tasted bile not cake.
Glancing up from the counter the clerk’s eyes widened, making Valerie acutely aware of her appearance. On what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she felt traumatized, not joyous.
“Whe...re do you want to go?” the clerk stammered.
“Anywhere, as long as I leave in the next five minutes,” Valerie insisted, wishing people would stop staring. So she looked like a crazy woman. After this morning maybe she was a little loco.
“The bus to Amarillo is loading now,” the agent advised, her large brown eyes riveted to Valerie. “I have one seat left. The one-way fare is sixty-five dollars.”
Though she preferred to travel by plane, there was no time or way to get to the airport. She could take the bus or stay and face the consequences of her actions.
Valerie dug the cash out of her Bottega Veneta purse and handed the money to the ticket agent. “I’ll take it.”
Dirty lace from her wedding veil fell onto her face again, so she yanked the offending garment off her head and threw the veil on top of her matching Louis Vuitton luggage.
The beautiful lace of her Vera Wang wedding gown was streaked with gray and black. Burn streaks made a crazy pattern on the silk that didn't accessorize the seed pearls.
The heel of one of her Stuart Weitzman pumps had snapped several blocks ago, and her feet were blistered. And yet her heart beat on in spite of her ruined wedding.
The clerk handed her the ticket, sympathy in her dark eyes. “The bus is ready. You’re the last one to board.”
Not even time to change. Head held high, spine locked in place, she limped to the white steel carriage, her suitcases trailing behind.
There, she handed her two suitcases to a gawking young man. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. “Just load my luggage.”
She glanced up to see faces pressed against the glass windows of the bus, gaping at her like she was a freak show.
Hadn’t these people ever seen a runaway bride in real life before? Julia Roberts may have made the movie, but she didn’t own the copyright to wedding disasters.
With her carry-on bag hanging from her shoulder, Valerie marched up the steps of the waiting bus as if she walked around in a wedding gown every day. The babble of sixty voices ceased as she handed the driver her ticket.
He mumbled, “Lord, I need to retire.”
Her silk dress pressed against her legs and swished as she made her way to the only empty seat on her getaway bus. Thank God she’d ditched the petticoats in the Corvette.
A gray-haired woman glanced at her as she put her luggage in the overhead bin.
“Hm hm hm, I can’t wait to hear this story,” the elderly Hispanic woman said. “Are you all right?”
Valerie plopped in the seat, her ruined silk gown making a mighty swish. She exhaled loudly, her heart aching, her eyes blurring with unshed tears. For the last hour she’d been holding her breath while making her escape.
But now, now all the pain she'd carefully controlled broke free and she chuckled. Hysterical laughter rumbled from deep inside her, echoed through the bus. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“I am now.”
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Also By Sylvia McDaniel
Western Historicals
A Hero’s Heart
Ace’s Bride
Second Chance Cowboy
Ethan
American Brides
Katie: Bride of Virginia
The Burnett Brides Series
The Rancher Takes A Bride
The Outlaw Takes A Bride
The Marshal Takes A Bride
The Christmas Bride
Boxed Set
Lipstick and Lead Series
Desperate
Deadly
Dangerous
Daring
Determined
Deceived — Coming Soon!
Scandalous Suffragettes of the West
&
nbsp; Abigail
Bella
Callie – Coming Soon
Faith
Mistletoe Scandal - November 2016
Southern Historical Romance
A Scarlet Bride
The Cuvier Women
Wronged
Betrayed
Beguiled
Boxed Set
Box Sets
Courting The West
Wild Western Women
Wild Western Women Ride Again
Wild Western Women Spring Into Love
Wild Western Women Mistletoe, Montana Coming 11/1
Contemporary Romance
My Sister's Boyfriend
The Wanted Bride
The Reluctant Santa
The Relationship Coach
Secrets, Lies, & Online Dating
Short Sexy Reads
Racy Reunions Series
Paying For the Past
Her Christmas Lie
Cupid’s Revenge
Science/Fiction Paranormal
The Magic Mirror Series
Touch of Decadence
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Sylvia McDaniel is a best-selling, award-winning author of historical romance and contemporary romance novels. Known for her sweet, funny, family-oriented romances, Sylvia is the author of The Burnett Brides, a western historical western series, The Cuvier Widows, a Louisiana historical series, and several short contemporary romances.
She is the former President of the Dallas Area Romance Authors, a member of the Romance Writers of America®, and a member of Novelists Inc. Her novel, A Hero’s Heart, was a 1996 Golden Heart Finalist. Several other books have placed or won in the San Antonio Romance Authors Contest and the LERA Contest, and she was a Golden Network Finalist.
Married for over twenty years to her best friend, they have two dachshunds that are beyond spoiled and a good-looking, grown son who thinks there’s no place like home. She loves gardening, shopping, knitting, and football (Cowboys and Bronco’s fan), but not necessarily in that order.
She can be found online at: www.sylviamcdaniel.com or on Facebook. You can write to Sylvia at P.O. Box 2542, Coppell, TX 75019.
@SylviaJMcDaniel
SylviaMcDanielAuthor
www.SylviaMcDaniel.com
[email protected]
Secrets, Lies, and Online Dating: Three Generations Learn to Love Again (Women's Fiction) Page 27