Brilliant and ambitious, the high-powered team behind the Pure Talent Agency manages the best creatives in the business. In this sizzling new series, they gamble big on every wild-card, industry-outsider client--and on delicious, unexpected, crazy-irresistible passion. Dazzling, demanding mega-stars. Tabloid drama. Brilliant, unpredictable creators. Viral rumors. Ambitious, gifted newcomers. Internet-breaking crash-and-burns. The Pure Talent Agency team manages it all--even risking scandals of their own... Skye Palmer puts out the biggest publicity fires for Pure Talent's top names. But when an A-list Hollywood actress' dream marriage proves anything but, Skye has to do nightmare damage control. Even worse, her ex-lover, attorney Garrett Steele, is crisis manager for her client's powerful director husband. Now for Skye and Garrett, containing this disaster--and keeping their reignited passion in check--may be mission impossible... Troubleshooting is what Garrett and his elite firm do best. But saving his client from career-killing bad news means battling the one woman Garrett's never gotten over. And when joining forces with Skye leads to one steamy night together--followed by another and another--both their reputations are on the line. Yet now that they've turned up the heat, can they put a new spin on their future?
Release date:
December 1, 2020
Publisher:
Dafina
Print pages:
306
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Skye Palmer let out a nervous laugh and shifted in her seat. A soft charcoal-gray plush chair. It wasn’t the infamous chaise longue she’d expected her therapist to have. After all, she’d seen enough scenes—in movies or on television—of distraught people entering clean, nondescript offices to blab all of their troubles to a stiff person paid to listen and write prescriptions.
Making the decision to see a therapist, to reveal pieces of her life and detail her struggles to a stranger, had been difficult. Skye had always been the person who helped others, not the person who needed help. Somewhere along the way, though, she’d lost herself. She’d wrapped herself in the cloak of hurt, disappointment, and bad decisions. She’d suffocated under the weight of gut-wrenching heartache. Bitterness had replaced contentment. Doubt had replaced hope. So when her bestie, Zara Reid, encouraged her to take this step, Skye agreed.
Instead of feeling frazzled or even nervous, Skye felt calm. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to embrace the peace she’d felt or the warmth of the woman silently watching her, waiting for her to complete her thought.
“How so?” the doctor asked finally.
Skye swallowed and gave the woman another quick once-over, noting the clinical psychologist’s professional—yet relaxed—appearance and demeanor. Instead of a “Plain Jane” or a “Blah Betty,” the woman before her was gorgeous, with smooth, brown skin, thick curls, and long legs. Again, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she decided to make the appointment.
Dr. Sasha Williams stared at her, a polite smile on her lips and her black-rimmed glasses perched low on her nose. She’d come highly recommended from Skye’s good friend Paityn Young, and had made room on her schedule that morning to meet with Skye. The least Skye could do was talk. Right?
Except, it had been fifteen minutes since she’d arrived, and Skye had only made the one comment. She should be talking. She’d paid for the session. Hell, she’d prepaid for several sessions.
“I . . .” Skye didn’t know what the hell to say. Damn that Zara for suggesting I do this.
Skye’s gaze swept the room. The ample space was impeccably decorated with warm colors, slate hardwood floors, a beautiful rug in the center, a vintage desk, and a matching loveseat. Artwork on the walls added a calm to the room. The owner had obviously spent time and money on the details. And if Skye didn’t know anything else, it was her job to notice the tiniest of details. Even the smallest thing could derail a client’s career, and she was paid to pay attention to everything, to be five steps ahead in every situation.
The bookshelf to her right boasted a variety of titles, from classics like Little Women and The Hobbit to titles by Toni Morrison and T. D. Jakes. Several textbooks about a wide range of subjects from psychology to anatomy also lined the shelves. Scattered on the table next to her were a few issues of Essence magazine, along with Psychology Today, Vogue, and the Atlanta Tribune.
Skye’s attention drifted to the Allbirds flats her therapist wore, the ones she’d been tempted to buy herself a week ago. “I like your shoes,” she grumbled.
The beautiful doctor crossed her legs at the knee. “Thank you.”
The clock to her left ticked ahead, each second echoing in the room, reminding her that she only had twenty more minutes to get something meaningful out. Blue Atlanta skies were visible out of the window ahead, which could be deceiving if one were expecting a warm day. The December temperatures were low for this time of year, a balmy forty degrees. If she were outside, though, she was sure she’d find Midtown bustling with people getting ready for New Year’s Eve.
Speaking of New Year’s Eve . . . “Thanks for seeing me today.” Skye smoothed a hand over her lap and clasped her hands together. “I appreciate you fitting me into your schedule on the holiday.”
The doctor shrugged. “It’s not a problem.”
“This is my first time.”
Dr. Williams smiled. It wasn’t a tight smile. It wasn’t an annoyed grin. It was genuine, sincere. Like she actually meant it. Yet, she didn’t say anything.
“I guess I don’t know what to do,” Skye admitted. “Which is different for me.”
“Whatever you need to do is what we’ll do.”
Tears burned her eyes. Oh God, don’t you dare cry, Skye. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. But one of those damn tears slithered down her cheek, like a cold, slimy snake. She wiped it away quickly. Glancing up at the doctor, she said, “I didn’t mean to do that, Dr. Williams.”
“Call me Sasha.”
Sighing, she peered up at the ceiling to regain her composure. Once she’d taken a few seconds, she met the woman’s unwavering gaze again. “Sasha.”
“Why didn’t you mean to cry?”
“Because I don’t cry.” A lot.
“Is it because you think you’re not supposed to?”
Skye shrugged. “I’ve shed enough tears. Too many. I’m not going to cry anymore.” Yeah, right.
Sasha tilted her head, assessed her with kind eyes. “Someday, I want to talk about why you feel you’re not entitled to show emotion. For now, though, I’d like to focus on why you feel your life is an overthought. It’s obviously on your mind.”
Skye’s watch buzzed and she peered at the screen. Carmen. The second time her boss had called her this morning. “Excuse me.” She grabbed her phone and opened the Messenger app. Rolling her eyes, she typed out a hurried response. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem.”
“Overthought.” Skye swallowed, attempting to continue her initial thought. “My life is an overthought because I can’t stop overthinking everything I do. It’s excessive and stifling. I feel frozen in indecision.”
“At work?”
Shaking her head, Skye said, “No. Never at work. I’m good at what I do.”
“Publicist at Pure Talent Agency.”
“Yes.”
“Do you love your job?” Sasha asked.
“My job is fine.” Skye swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “It’s everything else.”
Nodding, Sasha said, “Tell me about it.”
Skye opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. What would she say? She’d already given the practiced response—work is fine, I’m good at what I do, blah blah blah. If she was honest with herself, though, she might be able to admit that work was part of her problem. Because she wasn’t satisfied, she wasn’t fulfilled, she wasn’t challenged. But those feelings paled in comparison to the loneliness, the regret she felt about her personal choices.
“Skye, how about we start with a task?”
I can do that. Skye perked up. “What are you thinking?”
“Based on your questionnaire, and the little bit you’ve shared, I think it would help break the ice if you could focus on a small project before our next session.”
Leaning forward, Skye asked, “What would that be?”
“Think about one thing that you’re hesitant about, one thing that you tend to overthink.”
Garrett.
The top of her list of regrets was always Garrett—her first love. They’d burned hot and heavy while together and blew up spectacularly when it ended. Well, not exactly. It just felt like a bomb had gone off in her chest, hollowed her out, and left her empty. The breakup itself was pretty tame. There were no hysterics, no broken glass, no harsh words. But it still hurt like hell, worse than any pain she’d felt before then, and even after. And that was saying a lot, considering her history.
She had no one to blame but herself, though. Because she’d walked away from him, even though it had ripped her apart. He’d done nothing but love her, take care of her. And she’d walked away without really even telling him the reasons why. Then she’d blamed him for it, not verbally, but in her actions toward him. Since he’d moved back to Atlanta, she’d kept him at arm’s length. She’d mostly avoided one-on-one interaction with him at events and treated him with cool indifference when she did speak. He didn’t deserve it, though. Yet, she couldn’t stop doing it. Every. Single. Time. Hell, it was probably some sort of twisted self-defense mechanism she’d turned on its head. She didn’t know. Hence, the need for therapy.
“Next time you’re faced with this thing—or person—don’t think about it,” Sasha continued. “Don’t tick off a list of pros and cons, don’t question your motives or anyone’s perception of you.”
Damn, she’s good. Skye had already started thinking of the reasons why giving it another try would or couldn’t work, what he would think if she admitted she was wrong to break up with him all those years ago. Does he even find me attractive anymore?
“Allow yourself to feel your emotions in that moment and do what you really want to do,” Sasha said. “Is that something you think you can try?”
Skye always loved a challenge. Even if it felt impossible. “Sure, I can handle that.” She glanced down at her buzzing watch again. Once again, it was work. Because work never stopped for Christmas, for Thanksgiving, and definitely not New Year’s Eve. “I have to go.” She stood, wrapping her scarf around her neck and donning a pair of shades.
Sasha rose from her seat. “Two weeks, same time?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She gripped Sasha’s outstretched hand and squeezed. “It was good to meet you. Thanks again for seeing me on such short notice.”
“I look forward to working with you.”
Skye nodded and rushed out of the office. Frustrated, she pulled her phone from her purse to call her boss—who’d called her three more times since she’d responded to her text that she was unavailable.
“Skye, thanks for finally calling me back. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Hello, Carmen. What can I do for you?”
“We have a problem with Paige.”
Paige Mills was a popular actress and one of Pure Talent Agency’s biggest clients. Usually when she had a problem, everyone jumped to her attention. Holidays were no exception.
“What’s going on?” Skye asked.
“I need you on a flight to Los Angeles next week. The details will be on your desk when you get back to the office after the holiday.”
“But, I have—”
“Skye, this isn’t up for discussion. Everything will be finalized when you get back in the office.”
Except Skye hadn’t planned on going back to the office after the New Year. For the first time in her professional career, she’d scheduled a vacation to do nothing in particular. Her goal was plain and simple—stay home, go to movies, chill with herself and her family.
Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath. “Carmen, you know I’m scheduled to be on vacation next week. Can someone else handle Paige? Like her personal publicist?”
“No,” was the short, curt reply. “And I don’t have time to explain to you the reasons why that won’t happen.”
It was just like the older woman to disregard Skye’s plans. The two had never gotten along, but Skye wasn’t one to play the “I’m your boss’s only niece” card. Even though her cousin, Xavier Starks, had offered on more than one occasion to step in and say something.
Massaging her temples, she bit back the curse itching to burst forward. She swallowed. Hard. And tried again. “Is this something I can handle after my vacation?”
Skye was no idiot. In fact, she’d spent a lot of time educating herself on a myriad of subjects outside of her chosen career, from horticultural science to Nietzsche to wine. She could talk to anybody, anywhere, at any time, about any subject. Since Carmen was promoted several years ago, Skye had attended every single conflict management training course she could stomach. Each of them had left her feeling extremely inept. Because no matter what she did, she still didn’t like the woman yapping on about work like it wasn’t New Year’s Eve.
She wanted to tell her boss where she could stick her foul attitude, she yearned to give Stupid-Ass-Know-Nothing Carmen a piece of her mind in Tagalog and in English until she begged for mercy. And, damn it, she wanted to tell Uncle Jax exactly how that heffa had treated her since she’d traipsed into the office and told Skye she didn’t care whose niece she was.
“Skye?”
“Yes,” she bit out.
“Did you hear me?”
She didn’t. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that last thing?”
“I said, I’m going on medical leave for two months, starting now. You’re in charge. I’ll leave my notes on your desk.”
Skye’s mouth fell open. “But—”
“Happy New Year.”
Then Carmen was gone. And Skye was screwed.
Skye purposely arrived at Xavier’s and Zara’s house for their New Year’s Eve engagement party half an hour before the ball dropped. After that phone call with her boss, she’d screamed in her car for two whole minutes. Once she’d effectively released her tension, she headed home to put her boss and work behind her and focus on the task at hand.
It had taken her hours to find the right dress for the occasion. Then it had taken her even longer to get the nerve to leave her condo. Because tonight was the night she would make her move. Tonight was the night she wasn’t going to overthink her past or her future.
“What’s up, cousin?” Xavier greeted her with a kiss on her cheek as he always did. Raised more like siblings than cousins, Skye had never known life without X. Her adoptive father and his father were brothers, and they’d grown up in the same Brentwood, Los Angeles neighborhood. Now they worked together at Pure Talent.
“Hey, X.” She noted several familiar faces in the room. “Party is lit.”
“We have a lot to celebrate.”
Grinning up at him, she nodded. “You do.”
Skye couldn’t help but be happy for her cousin and her bestie. She’d seen the two of them fall for each other despite their own personal reservations about love and relationships. She’d rooted for them as they slowly realized their lives didn’t work without one another. And she would be there with them every step of the way going forward.
“I need your help, though,” he said.
She frowned. “What’s wrong? And why didn’t you warn me about Carmen?”
“Trust me, it was a shock to us, too.” X had recently stepped into the role of heir apparent to the Pure Talent empire, so she knew he’d been privy to the details about her boss’s leave. “We got the email this morning. I called you, but you didn’t answer.”
Skye grimaced. Her cousin was one of the calls she’d missed during her session. “Sorry.”
“Zara explained where you were, so you’re good. It’s short notice, but I figured you’d be happy.”
“I don’t know how I feel,” she admitted. “She’s the head of publicity. Am I ready for this?” Do I even want it? “And her desk is a mess. I’m going to have to fix her shit.”
He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “You got this, Skye. I have no doubt. And if you do, I’m here to help.”
She couldn’t help but smile. There was never a time X didn’t have her back, even if he didn’t agree. Growing up together, a mere block away from each other, had ensured they would be present in each other’s lives. But it hadn’t stopped there. They’d built forts, played video games, and transitioned from precocious kids to determined teens to successful adults. They were family, but they were friends, confidantes. And she loved him dearly.
“Thanks, X. You’re always there for me.”
“That never changes.” He smiled. “Now, I need you to find your girl. She’s around here, panicked.”
Skye looked for Zara among the crowd and instead spotted a waiter carrying several flutes of champagne. She snagged a glass and turned to X. “Why?”
“The wedding.”
“Ah. I’m not surprised.” Her bestie was many things, but event planner wasn’t one of them. “I got you.”
He bumped shoulders with her. “Thank you.”
Skye scanned the room again, telling herself she was searching for Zara. Not Garrett. “Where is she?”
X glanced around the room. His eyes lit up when he spotted who she assumed was Zara behind her. “Over there.” He pointed toward the bar. “Talking to Garrett.”
Turning slowly, she caught a glimpse of her best friend before focusing on the man that had haunted her dreams more nights than she’d even want to admit. He was dressed casually, in black slacks and a black shirt. His brown skin glowed in the dim lighting. He laughed at something Zara said, before taking a sip of his amber-colored drink, most likely cognac. Neat. At least, that’s what he used to enjoy.
Before she could stop herself, she headed over to them, Sasha’s words echoing in her head, playing on an endless loop. Don’t think about it, just feel, just do.
“Skye, where the hell have you been?”
She stopped in her tracks, recognizing the male voice immediately.
“I know you’re not going to walk up in here and not speak to me!”
Skye turned slowly, ready to shoot her best guy friend with her fiercest scowl. The smirk on his face let her know he didn’t give a damn what she had in store. And the arch of his brow told her he knew exactly where she was headed when he’d intercepted her.
Grumbling a curse, she rushed over to him. “Why are you so damn loud, Duke?”
“I mean, damn. Can’t get a call back? A hug? A Happy New Year? A go to hell?”
“Hi,” she grumbled, noticing the three women standing close to him, eyeing him like he was prey.
Dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves and fitted gray slacks, Duke Young didn’t look like any personal chef she’d ever seen. In pure Duke fashion, his beard was trimmed and his wavy hair was mussed to perfection.
“Amihan.” He grinned, holding out his arms. “Hug. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”
Amihan was her middle name, and it meant “northeast monsoon” in Tagalog. It was also her great-grandmother’s name. As an Afro-Filipina woman, she was proud of her heritage. But only her mother called her Amihan, or Ami. Duke did it when he was trying to play the big bossy brother role he liked to play so much.
When she was a kid, her mother used to tell her stories that make up what is called Philippine mythology. According to the folklore, Amihan was a birdlike creature—the first of the universe—responsible for saving humans from a bamboo tree. For some reason, that story always made Skye feel special.
Unable to pretend to be mad at him any longer, she laughed and shoved him playfully. “I can’t stand you.”
“Hey, I figured I better stop you before you do something you’ll regret.” He pointed one finger at each of her eyes. “I know that look in your eyes.”
Smacking his hand away, she told him, “Shut up.”
“You look good enough to be dangerous tonight. Where’s your date? Weren’t you supposed to bring Kenneth?”
“His name is Keith, and we’re just friends.” Initially, she’d thought about bringing Keith to the party. They’d met at a fundraiser several weeks ago, and had gone out a few times. But she didn’t consider them serious, even though he’d expressed interest in becoming more than friends.
“Friends, huh?” Duke studied her with narrowed eyes. Silently.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she hissed. “You get on my nerves.”
“Why are you so defensive?”
“Since you’re so nosy, Keith and I decided not to ring in the New Year together. We’re meeting for a nice breakfast tomorrow. An innocent breakfast.”
“That’s lame.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Shut up. You’re holding me up.”
Chuckling, he held up a platter of mini desserts. “Try one of these.”
Duke made a pretty good living as a personal chef, and had been hired to cater the party.
Skye bit her lip and mulled over the choices. “Did you make them?”
“What do you think?”
“Hm. I’ll take”—she picked up. . .
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