To those who have read my novel “Reality TV and Hookers,” thanksagain for the support! I've started work on a sequel titled “MoreReality Less Hookers.” In honor (or perhaps dishonor) of last night's season finale of “The Bachelor,” I've posted a preview chapter that gives a peek at what life has been like for Jacoby and Carly since the final rose ceremony. Hope you enjoy!
“Dude, I fucking hate Bed Bath & Beyond,” I thought as my wireless signal failed when I tried to check the score of a college football game. No one warned me that cell phone reception sucks in the pillow aisle.
Carly held up two pillows that have the same zig-zag pattern that I now know is called Chevron. I learned this information during last weekend's curtain buying adventure. “Which one do you like better, the blue or the green?” she asked.
“Um, the blue.”
“You're not even looking,” she said with disappointment.
Carly was right. I wasn't really looking. I was desperately refreshing the ESP...
Since 2008 my friend Bri has been participating in a book club that gathers near Cleveland, Ohio. The group of family members and close friends meet every two to three months and whoever wants to host the discussion gets to pick the book. They read all genres of books which helps expose the club members to different titles that they may not have discovered outside the group. I was truly honored that they chose to read my novel, “Reality TV and Hookers”, at their last meeting on May 14.
Bri asked that I provide some questions for the group to discuss at the meeting. Below is a summary of some of their answers. The book club also came up with some reality TV show ideas of their own.
(If you haven’t already read the book or have not yet finished, you may want to hold off because there are some spoilers.)
1.) What would be your reaction if your brother/best guy friend told you he was dating Carly
Horrified till I got to know her
More paranoid if he had picked Ines vs. picking Carly
Trust me; you spend a little extra time picking out a bra when you know you are not going to be wearing a shirt at work. My stomach turned as I fumbled through my underwear drawer, getting ready for my first night at the new job. I ultimately chose a padded leopard print bra from Victoria’s Secret that my ex-boyfriend Marty called my “Dolly Parton Bra” because it made my boobs look twice as big as they actually are.
I put on my cutest skinny jeans and the only trashy looking pair of black high heels that I owned. I splashed on a little perfume and took a long look at myself in the bathroom mirror wearing nothing but a push-up bra from the waist up. Could I really go through with this? As a girl who had waitressed hundreds of shifts at a dive bar, I had noticed countless guys staring shamelessly at my cleavage as I poured their drinks. This, however, would be something different.
I heard a car horn beep loudly and looked out the window to see Lauren wait...