Venus is ecstatic about her husband's new career as a movie star thanks to a role in a searing romantic drama with co-star Sirena Lassiter. Jake and Sirena's relationship, Venus quickly learns, goes back further than Jake wants to admit. Venus isn't happy when the new "it" team's hectic promotion schedule takes them to exotic locations while Venus must stay behind with a business to run and a daughter to raise. However, it's not long before Venus senses danger. When she receives advice from her one time arch enemy, Trevelle Doval the queen of late night evangelical TV, Venus, in her trademark style, decides to save her marriage by any means necessary. But when the paparazzi get involved, all hell breaks loose. Will Venus be able to keep her man or has she lost Jake forever?
Release date:
March 10, 2020
Publisher:
St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages:
288
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“This way, over here, JP.” The long lens of the camera pointed our way. The frenzy of photo hounds jostling for spots to get better angles made me nervous. I squinted from the bright flash and saw a long slender arm reach toward me. I recognized the garish diamond-and-ruby bracelet before I saw the rest of Jake’s publicist, Ramona Scarsdale. She bore a striking resemblance to the actress Lynda Carter circa 1975 as the comic-book heroine Wonder Woman. Her dark hair freeze-framed high and away from her face cascaded down her back. Her cheekbones and red lips were artificially enhanced, making her look like a wax figure instead of the real thing.
She slipped her cold fingers around my wrist and gave me a tug. “Wait over here,” she growled, adding a nudge that made me lose my balance.
“Owww.” The wail came from behind me, though the young woman was expressing my sentiments exactly. “You stepped on my toe,” she squealed.
My ankle had twisted awkwardly in the five-inch heels I’d yet to master, so I was only half concerned with her pain and thinking about my own. Four inches used to be the legal limit until someone had upped the ante, making it even more difficult to walk, talk, and look beautiful at the same time. “I’m sorry. I fell off balance.”
“I had the perfect shot and you got in my way.” She had a ring in her nose, one in her bottom lip, and three in each ear. She held up her phone, which was in camera mode. “Okay, so like, move,” she ordered with a lisp, indicating a piercing on her tongue too.
“Sure.” I scooted a bit to the right while she took the picture.
“He is so fine. Even cuter up close and personal. JPeeee…” she sang out.
“Yes, he’s gorgeous,” I said, watching proudly as my husband stood against the gold backdrop poised and looking like a million bucks. His tux was custom designed and fit over his toned physique.
My hubby’s new world was filled with flashing lights and admiring fans. Exotic locales for filming and promoting his new career as a movie star. One day he was my house husband, basically sitting around waiting for tomorrow and more broken promises from his agent, and the next he was being asked to co-star in a movie with Sirena Lassiter, the Billboard-topping “it” girl turned actress. Jake and Sirena Lassiter knew each other back when Jake—or JP, as everyone knows him—had been a rap artist.
We met six years ago when he’d hired me as a marketing consultant for his hip-hop clothing line, JP Wear. At the time I was engaged to another man but Jake didn’t see that as a hindrance to getting what he wanted. At the time it was me, Venus Johnston, thirtysomething, with—as Jake described—“hips you can’t miss, lips that you want to sink into, and eyes that save the day.” He’s a songwriter by nature, so he’s a bit poetic in his descriptions. But on the inside I was closed off and a bit lost. He found me.
Till this day I question his good sense, especially since I’d just found out my mother had breast cancer and my fiancé was under investigation for securities fraud. I was hardly considered an ideal good time. But that didn’t stop Jake. He stepped right up to the plate determined to hit a home run. He was confident like that. Forget about a base hit, getting to second, and hoping to slide into home. He was an all or nothing kind of guy.
Looking at him now, thinking about all we’d been through together, made me puff up with pride. The man was smooth, elegant, with integrity to boot. I slid the tear aside that escaped, threatening to mess up my airbrushed makeup. In such a short time, our lives had come so far. We had a daughter, a beautiful home in Atlanta, and enough history, love, and intrigue between us to make a Friday-night movie on a steamy channel seem pretty tame.
We fought for each other when we had nothing left to fight for ourselves.
The minute the crowd started cheering and screaming I knew why. Sirena Lassiter had arrived at Jake’s side. He slipped an arm around her waist. She kissed him on the cheek. The on-screen couple oozed chemistry, the kind that made it easy to believe he’d take a bullet for her the way he had in this sure-to-be box-office hit, True Beauty.
“Sirena, JP, over here. You guys are hot.” The cameraman with the best pictures would get the most money from the celebrity-filled magazines. JP gave a sexy smile then turned toward Sirena, who was already staring up at him.
Perfect shot. I could already see the headline, especially since she was engaged to be married to Earl Benning, CEO of Rise Records and also producer of the film. Anywhere Earl Benning walked, a camera followed. Anywhere Sirena Lassiter sneezed, a newshound reported and offered tissue. Having Jake in the fold gave them something about which to speculate. Was Sirena Lassiter falling for her co-star even though she was engaged to one of the most powerful men in the business?
Not a chance. It was all an act. The way she looked at him was planned and rehearsed simply to keep everyone speculating long enough to get them to the box office. In a nutshell, I wasn’t worried about Sirena Lassiter or anyone else. Jake and I were locked and loaded. Nothing could come between us. We’d proven it time and time again.
“Okay, this way. Let’s move.” Ramona waved the order and her two assistants closed ranks. Each assistant took Sirena and Jake by the elbow. We were on the move until I was suddenly stuck behind a barricade.
“Wait a minute. I’m with them,” I told the large man wearing a suit jacket over a yellow security T-shirt. Jake stopped abruptly as if he’d forgotten something. I lifted my arm and waved, glad I’d been waxed under the armpit instead of my usual cheap shave. “I’m over here, baby.”
I knew he wouldn’t leave me behind. After six years of a rocky marital ride, we’d made it through the storm. The official report was in, we were no good without each other. Side by side, ready to get through any crisis. I was the index finger and he was the thumb, or vice versa. I tried not to quibble about who was in charge.
Ramona whispered something in his ear. He nodded and then kept marching as she’d ordered.
“Ramona, I’m over here.”
She looked back and barely swept her eyes across the crowd. How many fans were dressed in a red shiny tight dress? I stood out like a chili pepper. It was my first thought when the dress had been sent over by the stylist, hired by Ramona, handpicked especially for you, the note read. The stiff fold on one side kept poking me in the ear. “Ramona!” I screamed, the same way I’d done a few hours ago squeezing into this damn dress. And now she couldn’t see me. Beautiful.
I scooted to the last pole of the velvet rope. I tapped a female security staffer on the shoulder. She was mountain-large with a melon-sized hair bun.
“My husband is Jake Parson.”
“Who?”
“Can you please let me through? My husband is JP,” I confirmed. J-P—just two initials, like the diamond-laced bling he wore with a swoop on the end. Sirena had it custom-made for him as an end-of-filming gift. I thought about him wearing the chain around his neck. Not until this very moment had it bothered me.
The female security guard kept her eyes straight ahead. “Sorry, not without ID.”
“Do I look like one of the gang? I’m freezing out here in this dress with shoes that are killing my feet.”
Her eyes rode me up and down, then focused on my glowing shoulders. I’d been spray tanned with Honey Gold #6, the darkest color on the chart, yet I still turned out radioactive red. Enough said. She unclipped the velvet rope and stood aside to let me through.
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