CHAPTER ONE

The hour was half past midnight, but the office lights burned bright, the fluorescent tubes humming like angry bees.  Gabriella Rosetti and her assistant producer, Maury Rosenburg, sat at the long oval table, their heads bent as they poured over the stack of photographs strewn across the polished mahogany.  Gabi flung off her dark-rimmed glasses and massaged her temples with her left hand.  She blinked like someone coming out of a dark cave into the sun, her chocolate-colored eyes staring vacantly at the pine-green walls and past the artsy black and white photos of London, Paris, and Athens.  Gabi had taken the pictures during her many trips to Europe, and the images usually brought a smile to her face, but tonight her stress blocked those happy memories.

She ran a hand through her hair, rumpling her dark brown bob.  Her black cashmere cardigan was thrown carelessly over the back of one brown leather chair and her red-soled Louboutin peep-toe shoes were lost somewhere under the coffee cup and take-out box littered table.

“How about this one?” Maury asked, sliding another glossy toward her.

Gabi chewed her pen thoughtfully and frowned at the buxom, honey-haired beauty smiling at her from the photo.  “I thought we put her in the discard pile.”

Maury glanced at the mountains of photos.  “Which one was the discard pile?”

Gabi groaned and thudded her head against the table.  “Casting the show shouldn’t be this hard!”

“Explain to me why we don’t have a casting agent doing this?” Maury asked as he sucked down the last cold remnants of his latte.

“Budget cuts, remember?” Gabi replied, straightening.  She slid her feet underneath her, and re-tucked her white blouse into her black pencil skirt.

She picked up two more photos, squinting at the two platinum-haired blondes.  “They all look the same to me!” Gabi wailed, throwing the photos in the air and watching them float to the floor.

When it first aired, Finding Prince Charming had been a ratings darling, setting itself apart from other matchmaking shows with its use of real people and small town venues.  As the show progressed, Gabi had folded under the pressure from the network to provide more glitz and glamour, opting for exotic locales instead of the simple, everyday charm that had made it a hit.  When she considered the last two seasons, Gabi didn’t even recognize the show anymore.  The loyal viewers had responded to the changes, too, and ratings had dropped faster than a soap opera hero’s pants. The show attracted more would-be starlets than Cinderellas.

Gabi covered her face with her hands and shook her head.  “Is this really the best we can do?”

“What do you mean?” Maury replied.  “Look at these girls.  Every single one of them’s a knockout.”

She frowned as she picked up another photo from the stack.  “To you, maybe, but to me they look exactly like the girls we had last season,” Gabi snorted, tossing the photo onto the table.

“I still don’t see the problem.”  Maury waggled his eyebrows and gave a wolfish grin.  “If you want, I can interview them.”

Gabi rolled her eyes.

“No?” Maury said, “What about this one?”  He held up a tanned, auburn-tressed beauty with perfect teeth.  “This is the kinda face that could grace a billboard in Times Square.  Really stop traffic.”

Gabi rose and started to pace, her feet sinking into the plush carpet.  “I really think this client’s looking for someone a bit different.”

“Different?”  Maury frowned, staring at another perfect face.  “Does he have something against pretty girls?”

Gabi made a helpless gesture.  “I don’t know.  Someone not made of silicone?”

“This is a reality show,” Maury laughed. “No one expects to see real people.  Real people are boring.  Viewers want drama.”

Gabi flopped into her chair.  “We can’t fail.  Our future depends on this season.”

“Don’t worry,” Maury said, “Didn’t Adams propose to you a few years ago?  Just bat your eyelashes at him, and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

Gabi attempted a weak laugh.  It was either that or cry.

“Ahem!” A deep cough sounded from the doorway.  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Maury and Gabi jumped to their feet.

“Mr. Adams!” Gabi’s face burned.  She prayed the network CEO didn’t hear Maury’s comment.   “What brings you into our office this late at night?”

McAllister Adams seldom visited Hollywood, preferring the wide-open spaces of his Texas cattle ranch to Los Angeles’ congested confines.  Everything about Adams was big, from his dessert plate-sized belt buckle to the Longhorns mounted on the front of his white stretch limousine.  If the average cowboy boasted a ten-gallon hat, Adams had a twenty, and Gabi couldn’t even begin to imagine how many pythons died to make his boots.   The only battle he ever lost was with baldness, his hairline making a full retreat to just above his ears.

Maury scrambled to the coffee pot, located a clean cup from the stack of discards, and poured a cup of the thick, five-hour old sludge for the network CEO.

Gabi cringed as Adams accepted the cup, peered inside, and set it on the table, an expression of distaste on his florid face.  He folded his hands in front of his expansive belly, tucking his thumbs into his belt, a grave expression on his face.  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Gabi’s stomach dropped into her feet.  “Are we being cancelled?”  Everyone in show business knew unemployment was only a phone call away.  Gabi had paid her dues, and she and her closet full of Jimmy Choos weren’t ready to beat the streets just yet.

Adams managed a small smile.  “Look, you know how much I respect you.  Your shows have helped grow this network from a no-name cable-access station into a serious contender against the Big Three networks.  I owe much of my success to your hard work.”

Adams’ compliment did little to calm the bats battering Gabi’s insides.  She clutched the table for support, her coffee-drowned stomach roiling uncomfortably.

“We’ve all profited enormously from the show,” Adams continued, “but sometimes even the best ideas run their course.”

Gabi swallowed hard and prayed she wouldn’t vomit all over Adam’s cream-colored Armani.

“This is the show’s fifth season; ratings are in a slump.  We need something to really drag people in this year.” Adams’ smile grew fatherly.  “You are both enormously creative, and I know you’ve put other projects on hold.  Maybe now is the time for us to explore those other options.”

No, no.  Gabi’s head was spinning and her fingers whitened as she gripped the table.  This show was her baby.  She had devoted as many sleepless nights to it as the most loving mother.  It was her blood, sweat, and tears.  She couldn’t believe this was happening.  He wasn’t going to cancel her show.  Not without a fight.  And possibly a little begging.

Adams could be stubborn when he made up his mind, so Gabi decided to hit him where he would feel it the most—his wallet.  “Please, Mr.Adams, we’re just about to start shooting the new season.  We’ve already sent most of the crew to England.  We have signed contracts with makeup, wardrobe, caterers.  Think of all the money we’ve spent.  We can’t let that go to waste.  We need a chance to see a return on our investment.”

“I don’t see how we can charge our current advertising rates for a show that didn’t even crack the top twenty last year.” Adams’ smile faded.

If you hadn’t forced me to change the format . . .Gabi bit her tongue.  No good telling the boss he torpedoed the show. That would be a quick way to the unemployment line.

If she couldn’t appeal to his frugality, maybe she could apply to his chivalry.  Adams was enough of a Southern gentleman to hate the sight of a lady in distress.  Particularly one he had once fancied.  Gabi batted her eyes and clutched her hands to her heart, careful not to overdo the drama.  “But what about true love?” The attempt at manipulation was beneath her, but Gabi had learned she needed to be a little cutthroat if she wanted to survive in Hollywood.

“True love?”  Adams raised his eyebrow, his voice touched with sarcasm.  “We all know two people can’t fall in love in only twelve weeks.”

“But they can,” Gabi persisted.  “Think of our first three seasons.  Every single one a love match.”  Until you insisted I hire silicone-laced Barbie dolls instead of normal girls, Gabi added to herself.
Adams rocked on his heels and gave a deep sigh.  “One more season,” he warned, “but I need to see some serious changes.”

“We’ve got them,” Gabi said eagerly, rescuing her briefcase from the mountain of glossies and cast off cups.

Adams resolve melted a little.  “What did you have in mind?  I don’t like the way we’ve being doing things the last two years.  You’ve gone off-track.”

Gabi gritted her teeth as she thrust her proposal at Adams.  She crossed her fingers and looked at Maury uncertainly as Adams read through the documents.

“Hidden cameras?” Adams raised an eyebrow.

Maury nodded.  “In addition to our film crews, we’ve received permission to plant secret cameras throughout the house.  We want to see what behaviors we can catch when the women think the cameras aren’t rolling.”

Adams expression remained unconvinced.

“Nothing inappropriate, mind you,” Gabi said quickly.  “No gratuitous shower shots or anything.  But we do know how cutthroat these girls can get.  Seeing the behind-the-scenes machinations could really ramp-up the drama.”

Adams’ eyes narrowed.  “How do you plan to edit the footage?  You’ll have far more than you need for a weekly one hour show.”

Gabi pointed to one of the bullet points.  “Internet.  We’ll have a live stream available on the web for those who don’t want to miss a detail, as well as archived footage not available during the regular show.  Special interviews with all the contestants.”

Adams’ eyes started to glisten.  “Will the additional footage be available to everyone, or just paid subscribers?”

“We can make some of it subscription,” Gabi replied carefully.  She and Maury exchanged a hopeful look.

Adams was still frowning.  “Why can’t we do it live?  The public really likes seeing things as they happen.”

Gabi cleared her throat.  “Well, part of the issue is the time change.  If we want to maintain our six o’clock time slot here on the west coast, we’re talking about two in the morning in England.  Not much going on there at that time.”

“I see.” Adams frowned.

“There’s also a change in technology, the way people network.  Facebook, Twitter,” Gabi continued breathlessly.  “We want to embrace the new technology and allow our viewers as much opportunity as possible to really immerse themselves in the show.”

“Will viewers still be able to vote for their favorite?” Adams asked.

“Absolutely!” Maury agreed.  “Although we are prepared to fudge the numbers a bit.  We don’t want to lose a contestant our Prince Charming really likes just because she doesn’t ring with viewers.”

“And wait until you see who we have for our Prince Charming,” Gabi added quickly.

Adams’ eyes scanned the pages, and then flashed to Gabi when he read the name.  “Really?” he asked, clearly impressed.

“The contract’s already signed,” Gia confirmed.

“That’s quite a coup.” Adams tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “The perfect balance of glitz and everyday charm.  I like it.”

Gia discretely crossed her fingers.

“But, I don’t know if these changes will be enough to bring in a larger audience.” Adams shook his head.  “I think the problem is that no one is buying the concept anymore.  Viewers feel the relationships are fake.  We really need to make a love match this season—one that’s not going to crumble two weeks after the finale.” Adams voice suggested more than a romance was at stake.

Gabi bit her lip.  He wasn’t buying her pitch.  Goodbye television show.

“Can you really expect two people to fall in love and marry in only three months?” Maury asked.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe it,” Adams shrugged.  “What matters is what the viewing public think, and they want to see a happy ending.”  He pointed a plump finger at Maury and Gabi.  “Your job is to find the right woman for our Prince Charming.”

His frown softened.  “I do hope you can pull something together.  I don’t want to cancel the show, but if I don’t see a significant increase in the numbers, I’ll have no choice.”  Adams turned toward the door.  “You have one more season.”

Gabi’s relief was minor.  They had one more chance to get the show back on track.

Adams paused at the door.  “And see what you can do about finding some real women to add to your lineup.”  He waved his hand dismissively at the pile of photos.  “I don’t think the American public is going to buy your current bunch.”

“Sure, we can do whatever you need,” Gabi nodded eagerly, fighting back tears of frustration.  “We’ll need to push back the start date for the show so we can interview more candidates.”

“Impossible.  As you’ve said, we’ve already booked airfare and hotel accommodations for the present dates, not to mention what we’ve spent on advertising.  We need to maintain our original air date.”

“The premiere is in less than two weeks.”  Maury protested.

“And?” Adams challenged.

Maury stared at his toes.

“I’ll look forward to seeing the premiere.” Adams voice was thick with warning.  With a final nod, he disappeared out the door.

“What are we going to do?” Maury said, his voice near panic.  “Where are we going to find real women on such short notice?”

Gabi collapsed into her chair, her hands trembling.  Her mind raced, trying to figure out how they were going to pull this off and save the show.

“Our Prince Charming isn’t going to settle for just anybody,” Maury continued.  “He needs someone charming, beautiful, intelligent.”  He stopped suddenly and stared at Gabi.  “Say, why don’t you do it?”

Gabi laughed sharply.  “He wants someone modest and unassuming.  I’m afraid I’m a little too spoiled for his tastes.  My lifestyle is the exact opposite of what he wants.”

“Too bad,” Maury sighed.  “Someone like you would be perfect.”

A crazy idea popped into Gabi’s head.  She rose, grabbed Maury’s shoulders, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.  “You’re brillant!” she declared.

“What’d I say?” he asked, rubbing his cheek.  “Wait, you’re not really going to do it, are you?”

“No,” Gabi grinned, “but I know exactly who we need.  Gia.”