Getting Skinny
By Monique Domovitch
Owning a restaurant is as crazy for Nicky Landry as an alcoholic owning a bar. But despite having to cram herself into a body shaper to look decent in a dress, life is pretty good. She’s throwing the party of the year for her graduating doctor boyfriend, Rob, who she’s sure is going to propose—until his new girlfriend shows up at the party.
After ordering Rob to get his stuff out of her house and get lost, Nicky finds him faceup with her expensive Chroma knife sticking right out of his cheating heart.
As the prime suspect, Nicky is in hot water. And no matter how hard she tries to clear her name, her problems only mount. She’s convinced she can solve the murder—if only she can figure out the identity of the skinny person seen walking away with Rob after the party.
Getting “Skinny” won’t be easy for Nicky, but she never imagined it would be life or death…
81,000 words
Dear Reader,
This February, we decided that we would do something a little different for the month that usually celebrates Valentine’s Day. Not everything always needs to be hearts and roses—sometimes it can be swords, mayhem and spaceships as well—so we’re using this month to not only debut new science fiction and fantasy authors and series, but also to reintroduce some returning authors in these genres. And, of course, since we’re a publisher of variety, we have even more genres on offer this month.
Debut author Steve Vera brings us Drynn, book one in his Last of the Shardyn urban fantasy trilogy. The heroes of two worlds reluctantly join forces to fight the Lord of the Underworld. Joining Steve in the urban fantasy category is David Bridger, returning with his sequel to Quarter Square. Golden Triangle is the story of a golden man, werewolf bikers and two nemeses.
How Beauty Saved the Beast is the second book in Jax Garren’s continuing science fiction romance trilogy, and the sexual tension is ramping up! A burlesque dancer and a scarred soldier defend a colony of anarchists as friends and fellow agents, but when a new weapon threatens to rip them apart, sparks fly as the dancer must take the lead in a fight for the soldier’s life. Don’t miss the trilogy’s conclusion in May.
Returning authors Stacy Gail, Inez Kelley, Shona Husk and Christopher Beats all deliver their respective book twos this month, all in four different genres. Don’t miss paranormal romance Savage Angel, fantasy romance Time Dancer, Western fantasy romance Dark Secrets and steampunk mystery Vacant Graves.
Also in February, author Shawna Thomas launches her newest fantasy series with Journey of Awakening. Trained from birth for one purpose, Sara must reunite three ancient stones to restore balance to the land, but one of the stone keepers has other plans.
Longing for a heroine who’s not your typical heroine? Have an interest in a unique fairy tale retelling? Tia Nevitt delivers both in her latest Accidental Enchantments offering, The Magic Mirror and the Seventh Dwarf, a Snow White retelling where the seventh dwarf is a young woman who walks into adventure with a runaway princess, a prince cursed by a magic mirror, and a romance of her own.
Last, but definitely not least, are our February offerings for those of you who want to read outside of science fiction, fantasy and paranormal. Mystery author Monique Domovitch joins Carina Press with Getting Skinny, the first in her Chef Landry Mystery series. Charlie Cochrane delivers another heart-wrenching tale of love in male/male historical Promises Made Under Fire. And cool Southern belle Althea Grant’s subdued life as an art gallery owner burns out of control when a seductive bad-boy metal sculptor pushes her to explore her deepest, most thrilling desires in Platinum, Jeffe Kennedy’s newest BDSM erotic romance book.
We’re pleased to introduce debut author Darcy Daniel with her contemporary romance Playing the Part. Famous actress Anthea Cane meets her match when she encounters an enigmatic blind farmer…but has she also met the man of her dreams?
And despite my claim that not everything has to be hearts and roses, I’m still a die-hard romantic, so I hope all of you discover an amazing happily ever after this Valentine’s Day, whether between the pages of a Carina Press book or channel surfing on the couch next to you.
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
Dedication
To sisters, the best friends a woman can have.
Diane, Louise and Francine, this one is for you.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following people for the part they played in bringing this book to completion:
My agent, Natalie M. Lakosil, who believed in me and promoted my first novel until I had not one, but two book deals.
My editor, Deborah Nemeth, whose dedicated hard work took a fun little manuscript and turned it into a terrific novel.
My husband, who still loves me after months of hearing me go on and on about the writing process and the hurdles I face.
My readers, some of whom have contacted me through my website. It’s great to hear from you and know that you enjoy my books. We authors are no more than storytellers at heart, and knowing that I have an audience that loves my books makes the long hours well worth it.
Contents
sometimes a girl just knows
whizzing through boyfriends with the energy of a shredder
cute doctors don’t like fat girls
you can tell he’s lying when he opens his mouth
a good knife is the essential chef’s tool
i’ve heard a lot of stories in my time
not a word without your lawyer present
a tub of ice cream is my best friend
as genuine as a ten-dollar Louis Vuitton
skulking around a dark alley with a magnifying glass
tactics to avoid insanity
in time this too shall pass
like a not-too-happy sitting duck
apprehension is worse than reality
we’re doing this to keep me out of jail
i might not sleep for the rest of my life
tell the truth but just don’t tell them I was there
being rich would be nice
this was supposed to be a simple case
a smart woman always has her own nest egg
there’s no diet like the heartbreak diet
the six-feet-under kind of trouble
chasing stray dogs and rescuing damsels in distress
a balanced diet is one cookie in each hand
a scene straight out of hell
keeping the universe balanced
what color will you paint the nursery?
now that he’s seen my fat behind
she needs a man in her life
food is an important part of a balanced diet
keeping those pills one more night couldn’t hurt. pretend like nothing
happiness is a hot man
&n
bsp; Recipes
About the Author
Copyright
sometimes a girl just knows
Call it intuition. Call it a sixth sense. Whatever. Somehow I just knew. The thing is, when a man gets ready to pop the question, he does a series of little things that give a pretty good idea of what he’s up to. The right woman—the clued-in woman, as my friend Toni would have said—picked up on them. Rob would propose tonight. I just knew it. And that was why I had to look amazing.
I looked at my nemesis, the scale, next to the bathroom vanity. I’d ignored it for weeks now, but it beckoned. Come, Nicky. Come see how much you weigh. I knew I wouldn’t like it but I couldn’t help myself. I had to find out. Even surrounded by non-weight-conscious men in chef school, I’d never quite relinquished the dream of being thin. I wanted to have a nice figure. To fit into a size eight. To look sexy for the man I loved. Was that so much to ask?
I peeled off my bra and panties, removed my watch and small stud earrings, then stepped on the scale. I held my breath as the dial spun. Back and forth it went half a dozen times, so fast the numbers were a blur. Finally it settled on…
“Argh!” Impossible. I refused to believe it. I had gained another ten pounds. Good grief. How’d that happen? I’d been so careful.
Oh, all right. I hadn’t been that careful. Only in my dreams did I stick to my diet.
But this was it. I was going to start counting calories. This time I really meant it. No more cheating. From now on I’d be good. I’d treat food preparation like wine tasting: taste and spit. Maybe a tiny morsel here and there to really check the seasoning.
Ten pounds more. How could that be? Maybe the scale was wrong. I crept back on and this time shifted my weight onto my toes. Occasionally this maneuver shaved off a couple of pounds. But this time the number on the dial climbed another few digits. Shit.
The problem was that I was a chef and, working in a kitchen, I had about as much chance of losing weight as an alcoholic bar owner had of staying on the wagon. With my self-control, my chances of winning the lottery were greater. Ten pounds. Well, that settled it. I was no longer voluptuous. I couldn’t call myself curvaceous or even queen-size anymore. There was one word for what I was and that was fat.
Jackie Chan, my Yorkshire terrier, came bouncing in. She skidded to a stop two feet from me and barked.
“Are you laughing at me? If you bark my weight to anyone, that’ll be the end of Jackie Chan,” I told her.
She tilted her head while she thought it over, then spun around three times and scooted out. Smart girl. She knew when to stay out of my way.
I picked up the dress I’d purchased four weeks ago. This dress was a miracle of engineering. In the store dressing room, I’d looked taller than my five-feet-four inches and pounds lighter than my…never mind. Why remind myself? And the color—cilantro green—was perfect with my strawberry blond hair.
Barely one month later, here I was, unable to pull up the damn zipper. This was a disaster. Rob’s party was in a few hours. And tonight, I just knew, would be the most important night of my life.
I looked at my dress again. Surely there had to be some way… Hold on. Don’t I have a body slimmer somewhere? I raced to the bedroom and rummaged through my underwear drawer until I found the spandex garment I’d bought a year ago. I’d seen it advertised on an infomercial in which the model wearing it shrank three dress sizes the instant she slipped into it. When it arrived in the mail a few days later, I tore open the package and crammed myself into the contraption, only to discover that it made me feel like an overstuffed cannelloni. Still, I had looked a bit smaller. It smoothed out my panty lines and ironed out the spare tire around my waist. But I could never have imagined actually wearing the thing. I might get gangrene from lack of circulation. Tonight, however, was special. I needed Rob to think I was the most beautiful creature in the world, and if that meant enduring the body slimmer for a few hours, then so be it.
I pushed my legs into the slimmer up to my thighs and pulled as hard as I could, squirming and wriggling until all my parts fit snugly inside. By now I was breathing like a steam engine. I tried the dress again, held my breath, pulled at the zipper and…it worked. Hallelujah. The dress was still snug. In fact, it might be better to avoid breathing altogether. But hey, I was wearing it.
The phone rang and I rushed from the bathroom, trying to determine where it was. The problem with the cordless phone and Rob was that he never remembered to leave the receiver in its cradle.
I set off for the living room where he left it nine times out of ten. Sure enough, there it was on the coffee table right next to the bowl of mixed nuts. I grabbed a handful and hesitated. Then I remembered that nuts are a healthy source of protein, and everybody knows protein keeps a person feeling full for a longer time.
I picked up the phone just in time to hear a hang-up. I glanced at the caller ID. Why was Toni calling? She knew I’d be at the restaurant in half an hour. Uh-oh. I pushed the redial button.
After the first ring, Toni’s voice came through, sweet and reassuring. My suspicions were instantly aroused.
“Everything over here is under control. You have nothing to worry about, so take your time,” she said, using her pacifying voice.
“Thanks, but I was just about to leave. I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“Why rush? Take the rest of the afternoon off. Take a long bath. Do your hair. You don’t have to show up until just before the guests.”
I knew that tone. Something was definitely up. “What’s the problem, Toni?”
“Problem? Who said anything about a problem? I swear, sometimes you really are paranoid. Just because I want to make things easier for you…”
“Cut the crap. Something’s up and I want to know what it is.”
Her voice came back with less honey and more whine. “It’s not really a problem. We can always get something at the bakery up the street.”
My heart sank. I so did not need this right now. “You know Skinny’s will never serve goods from a bakery. Give it to me straight.”
She sighed. “It’s the lemon curd for the meringues.” Pause. “It scorched.”
“Oh, no.” A vision flashed through my mind—dozens of perfect little meringue nests lined up in rows, every one of them filled with a brown glob of goo. What would that do to our reputation? Our reputation would be cooked.
I glanced at my watch, wondering how fast I could get to the restaurant. It was already three o’clock. The curd needed four hours to cool before being poured into the meringues or everything would turn into a sodden mess. Even if we had enough lemons, this was cutting it awfully close. Maybe if we took our time serving the appetizers, then delayed serving the main course by a few minutes…ten minutes here, fifteen there. We just might pull it off.
“Do we have any more lemons?”
“Just enough for the seafood.”
“Damn.” I thought quickly. There was no time to stop at the grocery store. “What about limes? How many do we have?”
“Maybe a dozen or so.”
I allowed myself a tentative sigh of relief. “Skinny’s on Queen will be serving a new specialty tonight—lime curd meringues.”
“Lime curd meringues,” Toni registered the alteration as she slowly repeated my words. “Perfect! See? I knew there was nothing to worry about. As they say, all’s well that ends well.”
“Get Charles to make the curd, and tell him not to stop stirring for so much as one second,” I told Toni, holding back the few choice expressions on the tip of my tongue. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. If I see even one dark speck in that curd, there’ll be hell to pay.”
I hung up, spinning between being weak with relief and spitting mad. Why was it that nothing ever went smoothly?
I stormed off to the bedroom, removed
my dress, carefully strung it over its padded hanger and slid it into a garment bag. Should I extract myself from the body slimmer? I could put it on later with my panty hose and three-inch heels. That way, I would feel comfortable while I cooked. But getting into the stupid thing was a challenge worthy of a contortionist. Better not attempt it in one of the restaurant’s three-by-three stalls. Instead, I slipped a pair of black pants and my new mango T-shirt over the torture garment and checked myself in the mirror again. Yep, even in my everyday clothes, I did look slimmer.
In the bathroom, I scrambled around under the sink for my makeup kit. What the hell? Pill bottles. What was Rob thinking? He couldn’t just leave bags of pills lying around. What if Jackie got into them? He deserved to get hell for that…
Wait. Hadn’t Rob said something about bringing antacids from the hospital? He was a sweetie, always taking care of me. I picked up one of the plain white plastic bottles. No label. How strange. Some generic brand. I was stuffing the bag back under the sink when I dropped it, scattering dozens of bottles all over the floor. Shit. That was clumsy of me. Every time I was in a rush, I turned into butterfingers.
I picked them up, threw them in his bag and resumed rummaging until I found my own. A few minutes later, I was freshly mascaraed and lipsticked. I was ready to go when I noticed an errant bottle on the floor. I picked it up and blindly grappled under the sink for Rob’s bag and threw it in with the others.
“Jackie,” I called. “Come on, girl. Time to go pee-pee.”
Jackie came skidding over, her little paws skating on the hardwood floors. Jackie weighed less than four pounds but there was nothing small about her personality. She scampered after me to the mudroom behind the kitchen.
“Want to go out?” At the word out, she began to spin. Around and around she went. I cracked up. “Stop chasing your tail, Jackie. You’re smarter than that.”
She gave me a dirty look and scooted out through her doggie door. I waited the required few minutes until she ran back in.
“Sit pretty.” I held up a liver treat and her bottom hit the floor with a thump. That was one thing Jackie and I had in common—we’d both do anything for food. “Good, good girl.”
Getting Skinny Page 1