I always check out the magazines in the checkout line at the grocery store. This week, Megan, the new British princess was on one cover as well as an article about the life of Burt Reynolds who passed away last week. While I don't watch television, I do like to know about the celebrities mentioned.
It's this compulsion which serves as a backdrop for Celia Mulder's latest release, Celebrity Spin Doctor. Her main character works to keep the juicy nuggets of gossip out of the headlines and spins any leaks to benefit her clients. Pregnant? It's a love child! Public breakup? Just an innocent break! Now you can get a behind the scenes look at a heroine who not only puts her job on the line but her love life as well! Hilarity ensues!
Remember when country star, Christy-Anne, had the leaked sex tape?
No one else does either. All thanks to Lucille Anton, undercover PR agent for troublesome celebrities. They screw up, she covers up. Business is good and Lucille’s good at it. But all that changes when international superstar Michel Polce approaches her with the toughest case of her career—his fiancée is trying to kill him and he doesn’t want anyone to know.
Brett Jacobs is at rock bottom of, well, everything. But he pulls himself out of his grimy apartment to attend a party with his former best friend, Michel Polce. Little does he know he’s about to be introduced to the most fascinating, unattainable woman he’s ever met in his life. And the only way to get close to her is to convince her, and himself, to help Michel.
The mission is clear—find the fiancée, tell her to stop trying to kill Michel, and make sure no one knows. But with an ex-boyfriend popping up at inconvenient moments, a fugitive uncle who can’t stay away, and some ill-timed sexacapades, this ordeal is more than any of them bargained for.
Lucille had her arms crossed over her black blouse, forcing open the unbuttoned top and revealing a glimpse of black lace. She looked him up and down while he stared at her face. He could feel her eyes on his skin, scraping across every inch of his being with slow, deliberate judgment. As in the hotel suite, he felt gloriously naked. He was sure it was meant to make him feel insignificant and tiny, but whether it was from his years of neuroses and self-deprecation or some latent desire in her gaze, he shivered with pleasure at the scrutiny.
“I see you own other clothes.” Her tone was clipped and cold.
“Are you checking me out?” Brett had meant to joke, but it came out husky.
Lucille laughed, one brief, humorless bark that said “you wish.” She pushed past him and into the tomb of the mansion beyond. She paused in the foyer, taking in the empty stillness.
“I don’t know how to say this, but—” Brett began.
“Sylvia’s been kidnapped.” Lucille cut him off. “And what I’d really like to know is why the hell you didn’t call me about it. You’ve clearly been here long enough to make yourself at home.”
Brett frowned. “What does Sylvia’s kidnapping have to do with you? Aren’t you Michel’s publicist?”
Lucille turned on her scary, pointy-heeled boots and glared at him, her arched eyebrows knit together. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Then you’re not his publicist.” Brett already knew this, of course, but he was annoyed and sick of her, and wildly attracted to her and now a bit pissed off.
“No. I’m not. We both know I’m not, so we can drop the charade. I need to see Michel.” She turned and walked away, her heels ringing against the stone.
About the Author:
Celia Mulder hails from the lovely, yet unpredictable northern Michigan. She is a librarian, a former wedding planner, and an avid appreciator of all things campy and ridiculous. Friends-to-lovers plots are her catnip. She believes in three things— the superiority of Aquaman, the healing power of romance novels, and Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.
Musings from Michigan