The Fabulist
By Dawn L. Chiletz
Genre: NA Romance Standalone
Release
Date: September 20, 2016
Fabulist (fabyələst):
a liar, especially a person who invents elaborate, dishonest stories
After losing her
job and her apartment, Samantha Wittaker takes a leap of faith when she tries
out for The Fabulist, a new reality TV show promising a prize well worth the
risk. Her sexy, tough as nails personality attracts more than just the
attention of the producers. She also catches the eye of a couple of contestants
as well as a hot, challenging cameraman.
The twists and
turns of reality TV are like nothing she ever even imagined.
Deception,
danger, love and lust lurk at every turn.
Sometimes people
lie. They lie to save themselves or to cover a truth.
They lie to
protect feelings or to protect hearts.
Not all lies are
bad. Or are they?
Can Sam play the
game or will the game play her?
“This is the first book I have read by this
author and I’m officially declaring myself a huge fan…” ~The BookAddict Mom
“I really enjoyed The Fabulist. It was fast paced and drew me in. I loved all
the aspects of the reality show. …. Ms Chiletz gives us a book about the inner
workings of the mind.” ~The Indie Bookshelf
“I don't think I have read a book EVER quite like this, it is PURE genius!!!!”
~ABeautifulBookBlog
As I exit the room and make my way to the
elevators, I notice Cocoa talking to Hogan. He’s smiling and nodding while her
hands move about dramatically. She reaches out and touches his arm and he takes
a step closer to her. I glare at them briefly before turning away, shaking my
head. I hope he gets in trouble for making passes at the contestants.
I jump on the first elevator that arrives.
It’s heading down. Dammit. Oh well. Better than having to stand there and watch
the Cocoa and Hogan Show.
The doors reopen back on the dining floor and
Hogan and Cocoa step inside. Fantastic. His hand is on the small of her back. I
cringe, pursing my lips and moving to the back of the elevator.
“You said six, right?” he asks her.
“Yes, please. Thank you. My room is 625. You
wouldn’t happen to know if that’s to the left or the right, would you?”
“I believe it’s to the left.”
“Good to know.”
Could she be any more obvious?
“Courtney, have you met Sam?” He motions to
me and she shoots me daggers framed by a half-smile.
“No, I haven’t. Nice to meet you.”
I simply nod. This is the slowest elevator in
the universe.
The doors open on six and she steps out. “See
you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there,” he replies with a wink.
“If you’re looking for something to do, you
know where to find me.” She blows him a kiss as the doors close.
I clear my throat and lean forward, pushing seven
two additional times.
“In a hurry to get away from me?” he asks.
“You have no idea,” I respond, averting my
eyes and wrinkling my nose.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
“Not at all. I don’t like elevators.” I need
to up my lie game. It’s so weak. I decide to be straightforward. “I’m surprised
you didn’t jump all over that.”
“What?”
“Her,” I say, inclining my head at the door.
“She was clearly giving you an invitation.”
He eyes me curiously, then smiles. “Nah. I
have something better in mind.”
The door opens on seven, and he places his
hand in the path to hold it for me. I move, eager to get away from him. As soon
as I step out, he steps out behind me.
“Where are you going?” I ask, pausing to turn
and face him.
“I thought we were going to bed. After
everything that went down tonight, I think we deserve it, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?” I lurch forward and give him a
push on his chest. He’s a little too close for comfort. His chest is hard as a
rock. “Um, if you think you have a shot with me, you’re sadly mistaken. I don’t
do man-whores. Even if you’d saved me from a burning building, I would never
feel I owed you anything, much less sex.”
He licks his lips and raises his eyebrows
curiously. “I see. You seem pretty set on that opinion.”
“I will not now or ever go to bed with you. I
suggest you march back onto the elevator and see if you can catch up with
Cocoa.” I air-walk my fingers toward the elevator and his lips clamp together.
“Cocoa?” He laughs.
“She’s more your type. And for the record, I
didn’t need you flying over to my table with your superhero cape flapping
behind you. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you or any man to fight my
battles for me.”
He widens his stance and plants his feet
firmly on the ground. His expression is filled with amusement. If he takes a
single step toward me, I may knee him in the balls, show be damned.
“Noted. I guess you have me all figured out,
don’t you?”
“Unfortunately, men rarely surprise me.”
He yawns and covers his mouth. “While I find
this conversation extremely fascinating, albeit confusing, I have a very early
morning tomorrow. I’m exhausted. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room,
712 to be exact, to get some rest.”
My eyes bulge. “Your room? I thought you
were, well, I mean you said…”
He’s holding back a smile as he strolls to
his room, two down from mine. He slides his card in the lock. Holding the door
open, he turns back to me. “You have a little something in your teeth right
here.” He motions to his bottom lip. “Goodnight, Samantha.”
The door closes behind him and I stand there
for several seconds, trying to process what just happened. I am a monumental
idiot on a divine scale. I touch my teeth as I slide the key card through the
lock. Inside, I rush to the mirror, and sure enough, I have an herb of some
kind between two lower teeth. I close my eyes and press my forehead into the
wall. I pace the room and decide I’ll never be able to sleep if I don’t make
things right. Why does this keep happening with him?
I slowly amble toward his room, then circle
back to mine. I wander over to his door again and lift my hand to knock but
shuffle away, biting my lip. I have no idea what to say. I never apologize, yet
I’ve had to twice with him. I should just forget it and go to bed.
After a few seconds I realize I can’t let it
go. I need to get this over with. I rush to the door and pound on it
forcefully. He doesn’t answer. I hear no movement. Maybe he went to sleep. I
take that as my cue to forget it and mosey my ass back to my room. As I’m about
to swipe my key card, his door opens. His hair is wet; he’s attempting to dry
it, and he’s wearing the hotel robe.
“Is there something you need?” he asks as he
drapes the towel around his neck.
I sigh as I move slowly toward him. “I need
to… apologize. I was way out of line.”
He squints. “I imagine you get hit on a lot.”
“Not really. I guess I’m just used to a
certain type of guy. I suppose I need to work on not assuming the worst in
everyone.”
He leans on the doorframe. “Do you need to
talk? Do you want to come in?”
I wave a hand. “No, no, but thank you. I hope
you can forgive me for being presumptuous. I promise it will never happen
again.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re a breath
of fresh air. I’d take twenty unnecessary confrontations with you over one serious
flirtation with a woman with less backbone.”
“Thank you for being so generous. Anyway, I
promise you I will stop jumping to conclusions.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t hold grudges
and I wasn’t offended in the least. Just know that I take my job very seriously
and would never cross an inappropriate line. I have goals here, just like the
rest of you.”
I nod my head. “I totally get that. Well,
goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
“Hogan…”
“Yeah.”
“In the future will you please tell me
immediately if I have something in my teeth? Don’t let me go on camera like
that.”
“You got it.”
I smile and close the door behind me, leaning
the back of my head against it. I will not cross that line ever again. He’s
obviously way more professional than I give him credit for. I wish I could say
the same for me. The whole time I was speaking to him, I kept wondering if he
was naked under that robe and what it would feel like to have a body that hard
pressed against mine. Why does he have to be so damn hot? I keep saying I need to
avoid him, but the truth is, I’m drawn to him. I can’t help it.
Dawn L. Chiletz
is the author of The Contest, Waiting to Lose, Enough, Can't You See, and The
Fabulist. She currently resides in Illinois with her husband, two boys, and
three dogs. In the summer of 2014, armed with a dream from the night before,
she sat at her kitchen table while her boys played on their computers and began
the first words of “The Contest.” She’s been writing and drinking large amounts
of coffee ever since.
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