Reality Girl: Episode One

  REALITY GIRL

  Jessica Hildreth

  DEDICATION

  I wish I had a dime for every time a guy screwed me over. If I had, I wouldn’t be trying to write books for a living. This book is dedicated to every girl who wishes she could get a second chance at finding her true love.

  I did.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is book one of a six-book series. Enjoy it, but remember, wherever you think this series is headed, it isn’t.

  Yeah, I’m tricky that way.

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  Reality Girl 1st Edition Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at creativebookconcepts@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover design by Jessica Hildreth www.creativebookconcepts.wordpress.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  She tossed the contract across the table with a quick flick of her wrist. It slid effortlessly along the granite surface, eventually coming to a stop a few inches in front of me. I glanced at the one-inch thick agreement and considered how my life might change if I signed it.

  I reached for the documents and met her gaze.

  She wasn’t at all what I expected a Hollywood producer to look like. I envisioned a fifty-something year old man with salt-and-pepper hair and bold black glasses wearing a well-worn pair of Diesel jeans and a vintage Jane’s Addiction concert tee. With a fondness for energy drinks and an overactive imagination, he’d bellow his demands through a megaphone that had fuck off scribbled on the side with a permanent marker.

  But Kelli Karsten, the producer of every successful reality television show in existence, was the polar opposite. She looked like an expensive call girl. Dressed in a burnt orange dress that fit her like a coat of paint, she sat across from me with gravity-defying boobs and a warm southern California tan. Her blond hair was twisted into a faultless low chignon.

  She grinned a shallow grin. “Take a quick peek at that, Lou. It’s pretty basic. The highlighted spots are where you’ll need to sign.”

  She was disgustingly attractive.

  I fanned through the pages while alternating glances between her perfect hair and amazing tits. “Like now, or bring it back in a few days?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. Probably as much as her Botox injections would allow, but enough that she made her point. “In a few days? In a few days, we’ll be in production. It’s basic contract language. Scan through it and sign it.” She stood up, tossed her pen onto the table in front of me, and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. “Have you seen the shots of the men yet?

  “I…uhhm.” I wondered who she thought would have shown me. I shot her a look. “No.”

  “Get your signature on that contract, and I’ll let you take a peek.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “You can’t show me until I sign it?”

  “Until you’re on board, it’s confidential.” She shrugged and then reached under the table. “There are non-disclosures.”

  She produced a laptop, placed it on the table in front of her, and began pecking at the keys. After a moment, she peered over the top of the screen and flashed me a slight mischievous smile. “Have you signed it yet?”

  The pen was still five feet in front of me. She knew I hadn’t signed it. I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “We give them numbers,” she said, her eyes falling to the screen. “I’m looking at number three.”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again.

  I leaned onto the edge of the table, wishing I was sitting beside her, and not across. “What? Is he cute?”

  She cleared her throat. “Nebraska, former college football player. He fractured his ankle his senior year or he would have gone pro. Now he manages a family-owned hardware store. He’s uhhm.” She let out a sigh and then began to fan her face with her hand. “He’s just--”

  I stood up and walked around the corner of the table, fully expecting her to cite subparagraphs in the contract that would legally prevent me from taking a quick look at the hammer salesman with the weakened ankle.

  She said nothing.

  I stepped behind her and looked at the screen.

  Wearing jeans, boots, and a white V-neck tee shirt that clung to his very broad chest, an extremely attractive twenty-something year old man looked back at me. With bulging biceps, sun-bleached blond hair, and a face that appeared to be chiseled from stone, he commanded every ounce of my interest. There were many words I could have used to describe him, but gorgeous was the only one that immediately came to mind.

  His aquamarine eyes were fixed on mine. Looking away wasn’t an option. Not yet, anyway. I stared back at him in awe of his perfection.

  “I really shouldn’t let you see these, but if it helps…” She tapped the right arrow. The picture disappeared and another replaced it.

  Dear. Fucking. God.

  My throat tightened. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and swallowed hard. “Is that…”

  She coughed out a laugh. “Sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s got to be the lighting. Maybe it’s…maybe it’s the uhhm,” I stammered. “His jeans might just be bunched up weird.”

  I tilted me head to the side and stared. It made matters worse. The photo was of the same man, shirtless, but wearing a different pair of jeans. His tanned skin gave his bulging muscles and ripped abs even more definition, but it was something else that had caught my attention. Along the inside of the top one-third of his thigh was what appeared to be a very prominent bulge.

  I leaned over her shoulder and pressed my fingertips against the track pad. After no objection on her part, I zoomed in on the photo.

  It wasn’t lighting. Or misplaced denim.

  It was his cock. The well-defined outline left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

  She pulled a binder from her bag and flipped through the pages. “Eric. His name’s Eric.”

  I swallowed hard. “Wow.”

  She tapped against the right arrow repeatedly, quickly flashing past each of the photos, allowing me a nanosecond the inspect each one. My mind attempted to process what the next six months would be like.

  Unemployed, unsuccessful at landing a job, and too proud to go back home, I was noticed by a talent scout at a football game. After a few telephone calls and texted photos, I was chosen to be the star of new a reality T.V. show, Reality Blows.

  After learning they’d provide free food and a place to live, I was convinced I needed to at least listen to their initial sales pitch. The six gorgeous men and the potential to win a minimum of $500,000 convinced me to agree to an all-expenses paid weekend trip to Hollywood.

  Seeing the hardware salesman with the two-pound cock was enough to seal the deal.

  I walked to the other side of the table and reached for the pen. After signing in the four highlighted spots, I dropped the contract beside her laptop and reached for the trackpad. “Let’s go back to the guy on the boat.”

  “I think he’s the day trader,” she said. “If I remember correctly, he has a home in La Jolla and another in Naples.”

  “Italy
?”

  She nodded. “With a view of the Tyrrhenian Sea.”

  Maybe it was my destiny.

  How bad could six months be, anyway?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Over the course of the next six months, all I had to do was spend a month with each man. There were only six of them.

  It seemed simple enough.

  I dragged my seventy-five-pound suitcase up the massive stone steps. My new home for the duration of the show wasn’t a home at all. Sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, it was a mansion if there ever was one. According to Kelli, the home was owned by a famous actor who preferred to remain unnamed.

  “Can you give me a little room?” I asked over my shoulder. “Is that possible?”

  The cameraman – camera boy was more like it – was all of six feet behind me, filming my every move. I couldn’t help but wonder just how much of the footage of me walking from the taxi to the door the general public would find interesting enough to actually watch.

  He faded back a few feet. It didn’t provide near the relief I hoped for.

  I pushed my key into the lock and reached for the door handle. Before I twisted the knob, the door burst open. Twelve eyes were fixed on me. Two of them had my attention.

  Jesusfuckingchrist.

  Upon seeing me, the day trader’s blue eyes fell to my feet, then slowly rose the length of my frame. I met his gaze and became lost.

  Completely lost.

  He reached for my suitcase. “Let me get that for you.”

  “Okay.” I told myself not to stare, but for some reason my eyes refused to comply.

  He was beyond handsome. Easily standing six inches taller than me, his mere presence alone was enough to cause my knees to go weak. Dressed in navy slacks and a light blue button down, everything about him suggested wealth. It wasn’t necessarily what he wore, it was how he wore it. His clothes fit perfectly. In fact, they appeared to be made for him.

  After a lengthy open-mouthed ogling on my part, I decided they were custom tailored just for him.

  A few strands of his product infused brown hair fell into his eyes as he bent down to reach for my suitcase. While he carefully pulled my luggage into the house, I gawked like a complete fool. He was much more attractive in person than he was in the pictures. I had no idea men like him actually existed.

  Other than in my imagination.

  “Tanner.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  I wiped my sweaty palm against my shorts and swallowed hard. After what seemed like an eternity of standing there with our eyes locked, I reached for his massive hand. “Lou.”

  The premise of the show was for me to be introduced to six men. After spending a day with all of them, I was to pick one man from the group. The other five men would then leave, and I would spend an entire month getting to know the first man I had chosen. The month’s activities would be compiled into four one-hour television shows.

  The next month, I would select another. The process continued until I’d spent a month with each man. In the end, if I chose to be in a relationship with one of the men, $500,000 in prize money would be mine. If we decided to get married, a $500,000 bonus would be added.

  I was warned that there would be kinks thrown in along the way to keep things interesting, but had no idea what they might be. Although I told myself I wasn’t going to have sex with any of the men, now that the day trading boat captain was standing six feet away – and eye fucking me – I was beginning to wonder just how much discipline I was going to have.

  A voice to my left caused me to shift my focus. “You must be Lou.”

  I released Tanner’s hand and looked left.

  Eric.

  Dressed in loose-fitting gray sweats, flip-flops, and a blue skin-tight Under Armour tee, he stepped between Tanner and me. The muscles in his chest flared as he spread his arms wide.

  He was massive. Even his muscles appeared to have muscles. “How ‘bout a hug?”

  I saw no harm in it. “Okay by me.”

  I leaned forward and hugged him. Fully expecting him to press his hips into me – just to make me aware of his massive manhood – I waited for the cock nudge. Instead, he squeezed me in his arms lightly and lifted me from the floor. Not far, nor in a hey look what I can do fashion, but just slightly. It was almost as if he didn’t even know his own strength. I couldn’t recall ever being picked up by a man, but I liked it.

  A lot.

  When he released me I felt small.

  My eyes fell to his crotch. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, probably to relieve the strain on his damaged ankle. When he did, it appeared someone swung a pendulum from inside the right thigh of his sweats.

  Twice.

  I shifted my focus from his swinging meat to his eyes. “And you are?” I knew the answer, but wasn’t quite sure if I was supposed to.

  “Eric.”

  I nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  I glanced at Tanner, who was standing to the left of Eric. Behind him, four men stood. Four seemingly very anxious men. Anxious and hot. I hadn’t spent much time considering what being in a home with six men would cause me to feel like, because I knew the entire group wasn’t going to be there for long. One day from what Kelli said.

  But with two men breathing down my neck, four more in wait, and three cameramen attempting to catch every angle of the debacle, I no longer had to wonder what I would feel like.

  As much as I was irritated by their presence, the film crew made me feel safe in what was sure to be an otherwise awkward situation. Being undressed by a dozen eyes at the same time was an oddly sensual experience, and I struggled to accept that I didn’t feel uneasy about it.

  Not at all.

  I scanned the men from left to right.

  Jeans, a wife beater, and covered in tattoos. Lean and muscular with short dark hair and a slight beard. The wannabe biker lifted his chin ever so slightly.

  I shifted my eyes to the next man. Short dirty blond hair, cleft chin, high cheekbones, and a thin attractive face. Striking blue eyes. Dressed in a charcoal pinstripe suit with a slightly loosened red tie. The overworked businessman nodded.

  Next, the surfer stood in navy shorts and a light blue tank. He was barefoot and wearing a man-bun. Leaning against the ornate wooden staircase, his lean muscular body was toned – and tanned – from head to toe. He had very boyish features despite his age. Appearing to care less about the cameras, the other, men, or me for that matter, if he was nothing else he was adorable.

  And, lastly, an ungodly attractive man wearing dark washed jeans, a wine-colored V-neck tee, and square toed black dress boots.

  Standing at the foot of the stairs, he didn’t seem uninterested, but he definitely wasn’t opposed to waiting his turn to meet me. He seemed patient, kind, and…

  Our eyes met. He raked his fingers through his brown hair, brushing it away from his forehead. His mouth twisted into a slight smile and then his gaze fell to the floor. After a moment, he glanced up. His eyes were gray. Images of the boat captain immediately vanished.

  Dear. God.

  Looking away, at least on my part, was impossible. There was something about him. Something genuine.

  Our eyes met again.

  I began to tingle. The all over kind of tingling. Tanner was no longer the most attractive man I had ever seen. The shy guy by the stairs with the gorgeous hair took his place. It dawned on me he wasn’t in the pictures in Kelli’s office, or at least I didn’t recognize him.

  I’d planned on introducing myself from left to right.

  Plans quickly changed.

  With my eyes still glued to the most perfect example of the male species to ever exist, I edged my way between Eric and Tanner. “Hi, I’m Lou.”

  He stepped to the side of the stairs and brushed his hair behind his ears with his thumbs. “Brett.”

  “Nice to meet you, Brett.”

  He shook his head. “N
o, Rhett.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Rhett?”

  He grinned ever so slightly and nodded. “Rhett.”

  “I like it.”

  His slight grin changed to a full-blown smile, revealing a mouth filled with perfectly shaped white teeth. “So do I.”

  Ding, ding, ding.

  Decision made.

  “I uhhm…it’s…I,” I stammered.

  I wanted the camera crew to leave, the other five men to be taken away, and my first month to begin with Rhett.

  The biker stepped to my side. “I’m Les.”

  Go away, Les.

  I offered the biker my greeting. “Hi.” My eyes, however, remained fixed on Rhett.

  “Randy,” the businessman said.

  Yeah, whatever. Bye, Randy. I’m busy.

  The sound of quick – but quiet – footsteps caused me to shift my eyes toward the staircase. Halfway up the flight of stairs, the surfer stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

  He lifted his chin slightly. “Logan. We can chat later.”

  I nodded.

  He disappeared.

  Okay, Rhett, Tanner, Eric, and Logan.

  No, wait.

  Rhett, Logan, Tanner, and Eric.

  I didn’t want to spend a month with Eric, I just wanted to see his cock.

  I glanced at Rhett. He grinned.

  My pussy began to tingle.

  “Would you, uhhm. Do you want to show me around?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  My vision narrowed. Everyone – and everything – else became distant.

  “Follow me.” He turned toward the hallway to the left of the stairs. “There’s a huge patio out here where we can look at the beach.”

  I eagerly followed him down the long corridor, past a dining area, through the kitchen, and to a set of French doors. He pushed the doors open and motioned toward the stone and concrete patio. It was almost dusk. I stepped past him and allowed my eyes to adjust.

  Beyond the patio, the bluest of blue oceans for as far as I could see. After taking a moment to admire the view, I looked at him. He seemed nervous.