Right on Cue - Softcover

Ballard, Falon

 
9780593712900: Right on Cue
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593712900 ISBN 13: 9780593712900
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

From the beloved author of Just My Type and Lease on Love comes a new romantic comedy in which a former actress-turned-screenwriter finds herself back in the spotlight, only for her romantic lead to be the one man she can’t stand.

Emmy Harper is no stranger to Hollywood, having penned some of the most popular movies of the past few years. But her latest project has hit a standstill—unable to find the perfect leading lady, Emmy’s been recruited to take on the role herself, dusting off acting skills she hasn’t used in over a decade.

Things take a turn for the worse when a she's left with the one costar she can’t trust: Grayson West. A blockbuster action hero known for his megawatt smile and impossible abs, Grayson is anyone’s dream of a romantic lead. Too bad Emmy still blames him for her disastrous first movie and the early end to her acting career.

The friction between the two risks tanking the movie, and no one knows if it’s lingering awkwardness from their youth or unresolved sexual tension. But if they want to save the production—and their own careers—they need to get their acts together quickly, both on and off camera.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Falon Ballard is the author of Lease on Love and Just My Type and co-host of the podcast, Happy to Meet Cute. When she’s not writing fictional love stories, she’s helping real-life couples celebrate, working as a wedding planner in Southern California.

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Chapter
One

It becomes clear as soon as the pretty blonde opens her mouth that she is not the one. The whole room knows it, with everyone shifting subtly in their seats and shooting one another knowing glances. But she keeps going, and so does her scene partner, although Jonathan does glare at me from across the room.

Everyone is glaring at me, actually, if the tiny daggers I feel digging into my back are any indication.

Eventually, the poor, sweet actress finishes her scene and leaves with a wave and a smile. The room lets out a collective breath when the door bangs shut behind her.

"That was the last one for today." My best friend and now producing partner, Liz, pushes back her chair with a loud scrape. She stalks to one corner of the small room, pivots sharply, and then marches to the opposite side.

Everyone waits for her to finish before speaking; that's the kind of power she commands.

She comes to a halt in front of where I'm sitting, at the end of the table of exhausted and frustrated production team members. Her hands grip the edge of the plasticky wood, and she leans toward me with that look in her eye. "Emmy."

"No." The word is an immediate reflex-I know what she wants before she even asks for it.

She brings her eyes level with mine. "I'm a half second away from begging."

"I can't do it."

"She's not the only one about to beg," Kurt, our executive producer says, from his position at the other end of the table. "To be frank, Emmy, we're getting to the point where begging is going to morph into insisting."

I swallow down another automatic no because Kurt sounds more serious than usual. And he's the one who controls the purse strings. "You guys know I can't. I'm not an actress; I'm a screenwriter."

Jonathan Brentwood, our adored leading man and a college friend, joins Liz at the front of the table. "You could have fooled me, Em. When you read with me at my audition, your performance seemed pretty perfect."

"I agree." Kurt rises, and his already imposing presence looms over me even further. "We've been stuck in these auditions for weeks, and we haven't seen anyone nearly as strong as you were. We're scheduled to start filming in two weeks. We don't have time for this anymore."

Liz crosses her arms over her chest, but she doesn't appear to be worried about Kurt's declaration. "What are you saying, Kurt?" If I didn't know better, I'd almost say there was a hint of smug in her question.

"You have twenty-four hours. Find me our Isobel, or I'm pulling the plug." He claps what is probably meant to be acomforting hand on my shoulder. "You know how much I care about you, Emmy. Your dad was like a brother to me, and I've watched you grow up, but I'm not about to put my name and my cash in jeopardy because you're holding on to some baggage from the past." He swings his bag over his shoulder and strides toward the door. "Let me know what you decide."

The rest of the production team, along with Jonathan, scurry out of the room behind Kurt, leaving me alone with the woman who knows me better than almost anyone.

"Pancakes?" Liz asks.

"Pancakes," I agree.


We arrive at Village Bakery a half hour later, ordering our food before finding seats in the back of the café.

"I can't do it," I say the moment our coffees have been delivered. I know well enough by now not to deliver bad news to Liz before she has caffeine in her hands. "You know I can't. And you know I won't."

"I understand that you think you can't. But I know with one hundred percent certainty that you can. And not only that, but you should." She tousles her white-blond pixie cut, which perfectly frames her pale, heart-shaped face, and turns her piercing blue eyes on me in what I know is a challenge.

I blink first, turning my gaze to the brightly colored chairs, the art on the walls, and the bud vase sitting in the middle of the table. "I'm not an actor, Lizzie, you know this. I haven't been in front of the camera in more than fifteen years. And I prefer it that way."

We accept our food from a server, two stacks of pancakes as big as my head. Liz doesn't say anything while she butters hers and pours on an avalanche of syrup. I know the stress must really be getting to her, because Liz is one of the most health-conscious people I know; she only calls for pancakes in the most dire of circumstances. She shovels in a huge bite, chewing slowly before she turns her puppy-dog eyes back on me.

I hold up a hand in front of my face so I don't have to see her. "No. Do not even try that. I am immune to your begging."

"Then why are you hiding?"

I lower my hand, peering out cautiously, only to be hit with those big, baby blue buckets of sadness. "Liz. I can't. You know what happened last time."

She puts down her fork and reaches across the table to take my hand in hers. "Last time you were just a kid, Em. Look at how far you've come, at this amazing career you've had. You won a goddamn Oscar last year, and you're going to let something that happened a million years ago keep you from doing what you love?"

"That's the thing though: I don't love acting. At least not anymore. I'm a writer. And I'm perfectly happy doing what I'm good at and nothing more." I squeeze her hand before pulling mine away, lest the simple touch somehow reveal the fact that I'm lying. Not about being a writer. I do love it, and it does make me happy. Just maybe not totally and completely happy.

"You might not love acting-although the way you jumped at the chance to read for Isobel in Jonathan's audition begs to differ-but you love this character." She shovels another bite into her mouth, but I don't fill the silence while she chews. "I know you do, Em, because I could hear it in your performance. And I know how much this movie means to you."

I purse my lips to hold in my retort. She's not wrong. Isobel, the female main character in No Reservations, is one of my favorites I've written. When we found ourselves in need of a reader for auditions for the male lead, I did jump at the chance. But it was meant to be a one-time-only, special-occasion, never-happening-again performance. Even if it was the most fun I've had in a really long time.

Unfortunately, I may have filled the role a little too well. Liz has been on me to play the part ever since, especially as we get closer and closer to our scheduled start date and seemingly further and further from finding our Isobel. I never would've pushed for my best friend to direct this project if I'd known how much whining and cajoling would ensue.

I've been stalling, certain that the perfect actress would make her way to auditions. Meanwhile, I've had to tell Liz at least once a day that there is no way in hell she is casting me in my own movie.

Safe to say, things are not going as planned.

And the most annoying part is that I don't want Isobel in the hands of someone unqualified. Someone who doesn't get her, doesn't get my words.

But I don't know if any of that is enough. Yes, I love this movie and this script and this character. But do I love her enough to forget about the past and try it all again?

Liz can tell I'm wavering. I know she can because there's a hint of a smile pulling on her stupidly full lips. "You know you and Jonathan would be awesome together, and he'd be an incredibly supportive costar." I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up her hand. "Don't make any decisions right now. Take some time to think about it. But not too much time." Her hint of a smile fades. "You heard Kurt."

"Do you think he was serious about the twenty-four hours?" The thought of losing our funding on this film is a knife to the heart. It took me a long time to fall back in love with writing about love, and if...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593712900
ISBN 13 
9780593712900
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
336
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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