Because I was writing a scene set at one of my favorite malls, I went on a shopping trip to Fashion Island in Newport Beach and snapped some pictures. As you can see, face-masking is in vogue, but I don't mention the virus or the quarantine in my books. I'd rather live in the fantasy world of last year where hugging and kissing or parties weren't considered life-threateningly dangerous.
By the way, I don't love the title of my book and I'd love to hear some suggestions.
An Excerpt from The Billionaire's Problem Poodle
“Hey,”
Lauren greeted Ron with a baffled smile. He couldn’t find fault with the
quizzical wrinkle between her brow. For one thing, it was adorable. For
another, he was also not quite sure why he was standing on her doorstep on a
Saturday morning holding a bouquet of flowers. Except, he had to see her.
“Good
morning,” he returned, scrounging through his thoughts to find an acceptable
excuse for presenting himself so early.
“Do
you want to come in?” Lauren held the door open.
“If
I’m not interrupting.”
She
waved him inside. “Maybe you can help me. My publisher wants to send me on a
book tour.” Her voice hitched with excitement. “But I don’t have anything to
wear.”
“Why
can’t you wear what you wear to school?”
“It’s
so boring.”
Ron
stepped inside Lauren’s apartment and took it all in. The framed pictures on
the mantle of a young woman and man. Her children, he deduced, noticing that
there were photos of the two in varying stages of their lives. Chubby children,
stringing teenagers wearing hostile and bored expressions, young adults in
graduation robes. His heart skipped a beat. Having children was one of the
things he was supposed to do in his thirties, but between his research and
work, he’d never found the right partner.
Had
Lauren found the right man? If she had, she hadn’t kept any of his pictures.
His gaze swept the room, searching for signs of the father of Lauren’s
children. I’m being unreasonable, he told himself, trying to fight
down his mounting jealousy.
Lauren
stared at him as if she didn’t know what to do with him. Clearing his throat,
he dragged his thoughts back to their conversation. Clothes. Boring. But, he
realized, most women didn’t think so. Especially not beautiful women like
Lauren who would want to use their beauty to their advantage.
“Clothes
should be boring,” Ron told her, harking back to something he’d learned in
college. “I never want what I’m wearing to speak louder than my ideas.”
Lauren’s
jaw dropped a fraction. “I’ve never thought of clothes like that before.”
“You
want to fit in.” Ron tucked his hands in his pockets. “That’s why scientists
wear white coats and businessmen all wear dark suits and ties. If someone is
put off by your flashy shoes or exposed chest, they might not want to listen to
what you have to say.”
Lauren
dropped onto a chair. “I’m going to be speaking at a school.”
“Which
is why the clothes you wear to school should be completely appropriate.” He
read the disappointment in her eyes. “Still, as my sister Margo tells me, you
should always have at least one suit—or in your case—dress or outfit that you
know will serve you well.”
“Serve
me well?” She scrunched her nose. Darling.
He
nodded. “It needs to fit you perfectly, so you’re not worried about your shirt
coming untucked. The buttons and zipper need to not gap or come undone easily.
It needs to be something that when you put it on, you know you look your best.”
Staring
at her fuzzy pink socks, she said, “I don’t have anything like that.”
“Then
let’s go find it.”
She
beamed and he loved that he’d been responsible for transforming her expression.
“You
can help me, too,” he said. “I need some new ties.” This was not true, but he
didn’t want her to feel that he was like a puppy following her around the mall
without a purpose of his own.
“I
don’t have a lot of extra money,” she said.
“But
you did just get an advance.”
“How
did you know that?”
“A
guess.”
She
bounced out of the chair. “I’ll be right back.”
Watching
her go, he stood in the center of the room, grateful for the opportunity to
soak in his surroundings. How a person lived said so much about their
personality. He could fit into this lovely, comfortable room. Buttery yellow
leather sofa, two pale red chairs flanking the fireplace, floral pillows and
coordinating drapes. Very different from Mom’s sleek silver and chrome décor.
Homey. He liked it. He could envision himself settling in before the fire with
a good book.
A
smell of vanilla and honey wafted from the kitchen and, like a dog after a
bone, he followed the scent. Two freshly baked loaves of bread stood on the
counter. The room was tiny but cheerful. The stainless-steel appliances
gleamed. A hummingbird fluttered near a feeder just outside the window above
the sink.
“You
ready to go?”
Ron
started at the sound of Lauren’s voice, embarrassed to have been caught
snooping.
“You
make your own bread?” he asked.
“Sometimes.
Would you like a slice?”
Ron
hadn’t eaten refined flour in years, but he wasn’t about to admit this to
Lauren. “Maybe when we get back. Where would you like to go?”
“I
usually shop at the Bargain Barn, but maybe today I’ll splurge.”
For
Mom, splurging meant Rodeo Drive, but for Lauren, a splurge could be the
Nordstrom outlet. He quirked an eyebrow. “Fashion Island?”
“Yes.”
“Good.
You deserve it.” He reached for her hand.
#
Lauren
had been to Fashion Island a number of times, but only to admire the Christmas
decorations and window shop. The prestigious department store and specialty
boutiques, not to mention the restaurants, had always been out of her price
range. But taking in the ocean view and admiring the towering palm
trees was free for anyone. Even struggling music teachers…with a book deal.
Still, she shied away from Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdale’s.
“Anthropologies?”
Ron suggested.
She
tucked her hand through his arm. “I’m surprised you even know Anthropologies
exists.”
“I
have nieces,” he said proudly. “They keep me hip. Or at least, they try. I’m
rather a lost cause.”
She
wrinkled her nose again. Did she know how attractive he found that?
“Let’s
go to Nordstrom,” she said. “Anthropologies is geared to the younger set.
Besides, they won’t have your tie.”
“Just
because you’re in your fifties that doesn’t mean you have to dress like a
grandma.”
“I
want to be a grandma,” Lauren said.
“Your
children aren’t married?” Ron hadn’t seen any wedding photos on the mantle, but
that didn’t necessarily mean there hadn’t been any marriages.
“Sadly,
no.”
“Tell
me about them.”
Lauren’s
face softened. “Like their father, both of my children are brainiacs serving in
the military as translators. James is in Germany for now while Annie is in
Florida.”
Ron
thought about what she’d told him of her ex-husband and had to fight a wave of
jealousy, telling himself he had no reason to feel threatened by this invisible
man from Lauren’s past. He guided her through Anthropologies’ wide glass doors.
“Hopefully,
they won’t follow in their father’s footsteps.”
“I
should hope not,” Ron murmured. “Are they very like him.”
“In
some ways yes and in others no. I like to think they took the best of both of
us. Braver than me, but more cautious than Dane. Neither his death nor
disappearance should have been a great surprise. He was an adrenaline junky.
Walking on the wild-side was what he loved best.”
Lauren
paused in front of a blue dress made of soft blue fabric and embroidered with
small yellow flowers.
“You
should try that on,” Ron urged.
“This
is not at all the sort of thing I’m looking for.” The wrinkle he liked between
her brows reappeared.
“What
are you looking for?”
“Something
businessy.” With a frown, her gaze swept the showroom, taking in the racks of
clothes his nieces would call “boho.”
“I
shouldn’t even be in here,” Lauren said with a touch of bitterness.
Ron
strode to the rack and plucked the dress he thought would fit Lauren. “Just try
it on.” On a whim, he picked out a variety of dresses and handed them to her.
“Try them all on. You don’t need to be businessy.” Was that even a word? He
hated it when people made up words, but Lauren was beginning to be his
exception to everything. “You’re an author, not a banker.”
Lauren
glanced at the price tag, and Ron flicked it away from her. “You’re
celebrating, remember?”
“Old
habits die hard,” she said.
He
pressed the hangers into her hands. An eager sales girl who had been watching the
exchange, hustled over to lead Lauren into a dressing room. Now, alone in this
female-centric place, Ron didn’t know what to do with himself. Outside, he
noticed a child standing near the fountain looking even more lost than he felt.
He went to see if he could help.
CHAPTER SIX
Inside
the dressing room, Lauren fought her own inner battle. Of course, she loved the
way the dress flitted around her thighs, but it was terribly impractical and
not really age-appropriate. Wanting another opinion, she peeked outside the
door, searching for Ron but not seeing him.
Of
course, what did she expect? That he would be waiting for her like a puppy?
Dane, of course, would never have been caught dead in a shop like this. She
wasn’t sure if he’d even venture to Fashion Island, unless, of course, someone
had given him a no-strings-attached gift card to Fleming’s Steak House. Even
then, he’d have curled his lip at the opulent shops and their wealthy patrons.
Why was she thinking of Dane?
“That
dress is perfect on you,” the salesgirl said.
Lauren
smiled because she had thought so, too.
“The
blue really makes your eyes sparkle,” the salesgirl said.
Flattery.
The wiles of consumerism. A chill passed over Lauren. “I bet you say that to
all your customers.” She had tried to sound flirtatious, but she heard the hard
edge in her voice.
Slipping
back into the dressing room, she convinced herself that, no matter what the
salesgirl had said, none of these dresses suited her. She couldn’t see herself
teaching piano lessons in any of these. But because Ron would ask, she tried
them all on anyway. She didn’t even look at the price tags, because there was
no way she would buy any of them. But she enjoyed looking at herself in the
mirror and modeling the clothes, even if it was for only herself.
When
she finished with her own private fashion show, she returned all the dresses to
their respective hangers and handed them to the salesgirl.
“Do
you want me to ring these up for you?” the girl.
“No.
I’m not getting any of them.”
What
had happened to Ron? Her footfalls echoed on the wooden floor has she crossed
the showroom.
Still
holding the dresses, the salesgirl trailed after Lauren. “I saw your friend go
out the door.”
Lauren’s
frustration mounted. What was she doing here? Why had Ron brought her here to
just abandon her? Feeling foolish, old, and out of her league, Lauren followed
the shop girl’s pointing finger out the door.:
“Hey,”
Lauren greeted Ron with a baffled smile. He couldn’t find fault with the
quizzical wrinkle between her brow. For one thing, it was adorable. For
another, he was also not quite sure why he was standing on her doorstep on a
Saturday morning holding a bouquet of flowers. Except, he had to see her.
“Good
morning,” he returned, scrounging through his thoughts to find an acceptable
excuse for presenting himself so early.
“Do
you want to come in?” Lauren held the door open.
“If
I’m not interrupting.”
She
waved him inside. “Maybe you can help me. My publisher wants to send me on a
book tour.” Her voice hitched with excitement. “But I don’t have anything to
wear.”
“Why
can’t you wear what you wear to school?”
“It’s
so boring.”
Ron
stepped inside Lauren’s apartment and took it all in. The framed pictures on
the mantle of a young woman and man. Her children, he deduced, noticing that
there were photos of the two in varying stages of their lives. Chubby children,
stringing teenagers wearing hostile and bored expressions, young adults in
graduation robes. His heart skipped a beat. Having children was one of the
things he was supposed to do in his thirties, but between his research and
work, he’d never found the right partner.
Had
Lauren found the right man? If she had, she hadn’t kept any of his pictures.
His gaze swept the room, searching for signs of the father of Lauren’s
children. I’m being unreasonable, he told himself, trying to fight
down his mounting jealousy.
Lauren
stared at him as if she didn’t know what to do with him. Clearing his throat,
he dragged his thoughts back to their conversation. Clothes. Boring. But, he
realized, most women didn’t think so. Especially not beautiful women like
Lauren who would want to use their beauty to their advantage.
“Clothes
should be boring,” Ron told her, harking back to something he’d learned in
college. “I never want what I’m wearing to speak louder than my ideas.”
Lauren’s
jaw dropped a fraction. “I’ve never thought of clothes like that before.”
“You
want to fit in.” Ron tucked his hands in his pockets. “That’s why scientists
wear white coats and businessmen all wear dark suits and ties. If someone is
put off by your flashy shoes or exposed chest, they might not want to listen to
what you have to say.”
Lauren
dropped onto a chair. “I’m going to be speaking at a school.”
“Which
is why the clothes you wear to school should be completely appropriate.” He
read the disappointment in her eyes. “Still, as my sister Margo tells me, you
should always have at least one suit—or in your case—dress or outfit that you
know will serve you well.”
“Serve
me well?” She scrunched her nose. Darling.
He
nodded. “It needs to fit you perfectly, so you’re not worried about your shirt
coming untucked. The buttons and zipper need to not gap or come undone easily.
It needs to be something that when you put it on, you know you look your best.”
Staring
at her fuzzy pink socks, she said, “I don’t have anything like that.”
“Then
let’s go find it.”
She
beamed and he loved that he’d been responsible for transforming her expression.
“You
can help me, too,” he said. “I need some new ties.” This was not true, but he
didn’t want her to feel that he was like a puppy following her around the mall
without a purpose of his own.
“I
don’t have a lot of extra money,” she said.
“But
you did just get an advance.”
“How
did you know that?”
“A
guess.”
She
bounced out of the chair. “I’ll be right back.”
Watching
her go, he stood in the center of the room, grateful for the opportunity to
soak in his surroundings. How a person lived said so much about their
personality. He could fit into this lovely, comfortable room. Buttery yellow
leather sofa, two pale red chairs flanking the fireplace, floral pillows and
coordinating drapes. Very different from Mom’s sleek silver and chrome décor.
Homey. He liked it. He could envision himself settling in before the fire with
a good book.
A
smell of vanilla and honey wafted from the kitchen and, like a dog after a
bone, he followed the scent. Two freshly baked loaves of bread stood on the
counter. The room was tiny but cheerful. The stainless-steel appliances
gleamed. A hummingbird fluttered near a feeder just outside the window above
the sink.
“You
ready to go?”
Ron
started at the sound of Lauren’s voice, embarrassed to have been caught
snooping.
“You
make your own bread?” he asked.
“Sometimes.
Would you like a slice?”
Ron
hadn’t eaten refined flour in years, but he wasn’t about to admit this to
Lauren. “Maybe when we get back. Where would you like to go?”
“I
usually shop at the Bargain Barn, but maybe today I’ll splurge.”
For
Mom, splurging meant Rodeo Drive, but for Lauren, a splurge could be the
Nordstrom outlet. He quirked an eyebrow. “Fashion Island?”
“Yes.”
“Good.
You deserve it.” He reached for her hand.
#
Lauren
had been to Fashion Island a number of times, but only to admire the Christmas
decorations and window shop. The prestigious department store and specialty
boutiques, not to mention the restaurants, had always been out of her price
range. But taking in the ocean view and admiring the towering palm
trees was free for anyone. Even struggling music teachers…with a book deal.
Still, she shied away from Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdale’s.
“Anthropologies?”
Ron suggested.
She
tucked her hand through his arm. “I’m surprised you even know Anthropologies
exists.”
“I
have nieces,” he said proudly. “They keep me hip. Or at least, they try. I’m
rather a lost cause.”
She
wrinkled her nose again. Did she know how attractive he found that?
“Let’s
go to Nordstrom,” she said. “Anthropologies is geared to the younger set.
Besides, they won’t have your tie.”
“Just
because you’re in your fifties that doesn’t mean you have to dress like a
grandma.”
“I
want to be a grandma,” Lauren said.
“Your
children aren’t married?” Ron hadn’t seen any wedding photos on the mantle, but
that didn’t necessarily mean there hadn’t been any marriages.
“Sadly,
no.”
“Tell
me about them.”
Lauren’s
face softened. “Like their father, both of my children are brainiacs serving in
the military as translators. James is in Germany for now while Annie is in
Florida.”
Ron
thought about what she’d told him of her ex-husband and had to fight a wave of
jealousy, telling himself he had no reason to feel threatened by this invisible
man from Lauren’s past. He guided her through Anthropologies’ wide glass doors.
“Hopefully,
they won’t follow in their father’s footsteps.”
“I
should hope not,” Ron murmured. “Are they very like him.”
“In
some ways yes and in others no. I like to think they took the best of both of
us. Braver than me, but more cautious than Dane. Neither his death nor
disappearance should have been a great surprise. He was an adrenaline junky.
Walking on the wild-side was what he loved best.”
Lauren
paused in front of a blue dress made of soft blue fabric and embroidered with
small yellow flowers.
“You
should try that on,” Ron urged.
“This
is not at all the sort of thing I’m looking for.” The wrinkle he liked between
her brows reappeared.
“What
are you looking for?”
“Something
businessy.” With a frown, her gaze swept the showroom, taking in the racks of
clothes his nieces would call “boho.”
“I
shouldn’t even be in here,” Lauren said with a touch of bitterness.
Ron
strode to the rack and plucked the dress he thought would fit Lauren. “Just try
it on.” On a whim, he picked out a variety of dresses and handed them to her.
“Try them all on. You don’t need to be businessy.” Was that even a word? He
hated it when people made up words, but Lauren was beginning to be his
exception to everything. “You’re an author, not a banker.”
Lauren
glanced at the price tag, and Ron flicked it away from her. “You’re
celebrating, remember?”
“Old
habits die hard,” she said.
He
pressed the hangers into her hands. An eager sales girl who had been watching the
exchange, hustled over to lead Lauren into a dressing room. Now, alone in this
female-centric place, Ron didn’t know what to do with himself. Outside, he
noticed a child standing near the fountain looking even more lost than he felt.
He went to see if he could help.
CHAPTER SIX
Inside
the dressing room, Lauren fought her own inner battle. Of course, she loved the
way the dress flitted around her thighs, but it was terribly impractical and
not really age-appropriate. Wanting another opinion, she peeked outside the
door, searching for Ron but not seeing him.
Of
course, what did she expect? That he would be waiting for her like a puppy?
Dane, of course, would never have been caught dead in a shop like this. She
wasn’t sure if he’d even venture to Fashion Island, unless, of course, someone
had given him a no-strings-attached gift card to Fleming’s Steak House. Even
then, he’d have curled his lip at the opulent shops and their wealthy patrons.
Why was she thinking of Dane?
“That
dress is perfect on you,” the salesgirl said.
Lauren
smiled because she had thought so, too.
“The
blue really makes your eyes sparkle,” the salesgirl said.
Flattery.
The wiles of consumerism. A chill passed over Lauren. “I bet you say that to
all your customers.” She had tried to sound flirtatious, but she heard the hard
edge in her voice.
Slipping
back into the dressing room, she convinced herself that, no matter what the
salesgirl had said, none of these dresses suited her. She couldn’t see herself
teaching piano lessons in any of these. But because Ron would ask, she tried
them all on anyway. She didn’t even look at the price tags, because there was
no way she would buy any of them. But she enjoyed looking at herself in the
mirror and modeling the clothes, even if it was for only herself.
When
she finished with her own private fashion show, she returned all the dresses to
their respective hangers and handed them to the salesgirl.
“Do
you want me to ring these up for you?” the girl.
“No.
I’m not getting any of them.”
What
had happened to Ron? Her footfalls echoed on the wooden floor has she crossed
the showroom.
Still
holding the dresses, the salesgirl trailed after Lauren. “I saw your friend go
out the door.”
Lauren’s
frustration mounted. What was she doing here? Why had Ron brought her here to
just abandon her? Feeling foolish, old, and out of her league, Lauren followed
the shop girl’s pointing finger out the door.
