Description
It
all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.
I’m
a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for
a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own
merits.
Sigh.
Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.
See?
That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for
decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious
definition of the term.
Until
it was too late.
The
ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine
intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was
desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.
The
perfect job!
Staging
homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in
making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t
arrange decorative pillows on a couch.
They
arrange other soft, round-ish objects.
The
job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or,
well… helping other people to be hard.
Oh,
man…
And
that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the
movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the
house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.
By
the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house
staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an
undressed naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a
humiliating lesson in my own naivete.
My
job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know
what’s easier than I ever imagined?
Having
all my dreams come true.
Excerpt
“Do
you use the proper terms for everything, Mallory?” He makes an
inarticulate sound as I peel the gauze off the cut, wiping gently.
“You call your pretty place a vulva, right? And you use the word
vagina.”
“'Pretty
place'?”
He
shrugs.
“And
yes, I do. Vulva and vagina. And then there’s the clitoris,” I
say primly.
“What’s
that?”
“What’s
what?”
“A
clitoris. Never heard of it.”
I
freeze and look down at him. Bright eyes meet mine. Is he serious?
“The
clitoris is a nerve cluster above the opening to the vagina,” I
begin, taking a breath to continue my impromptu human sexuality
lecture, because when a man tells you they don’t know what a
clitoris is, you educate them immediately.
For
the sisterhood. All the women Will is going to sleep with from here
on out will thank me later.
He
starts to laugh. I’m so tempted to pour the small bottle of
isopropyl alcohol directly on his wound, but I’m a kind,
compassionate woman, so instead I dab it on with a swab.
“OW!”
he bellows.
“Sorry.”
“You’re
not sorry at all.”
“I’m
sorry for your sex partners that you have no idea what a clitoris is,
Will.”
“I
know what it is. And my tongue knows how to find one. Blindfolded.”
“Why
would you blindfold your tongue?”
Buy
Links
Audible:
https://adbl.co/2KRgFGR
Print:
mybook.to/fluffy
About
the Author
New
York Times and USA Today Bestselling
Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From
billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual,
goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon
from Shopping for a Billionaire,
she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room
toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with
her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is
never, ever, down
Social
Media Links
Website:
http://jkentauthor.com/
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Amazon
Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Julia-Kent/e/B00A99V268/
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