Showing posts with label Stefanie London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stefanie London. Show all posts

December 9, 2022

Pets of Park Avenue Blog Tour: Excerpt

 

 

 

Pets of Park Avenue

Author: Stefanie London

Publication Date: December 6, 2022

Publisher: HQN

Paperback Original 


Book Summary: 

The perfect romcom for dog lovers! Pets of Park Avenue is the story of a self-confessed hot mess who learns that life is more fun when things don't go according to plan.

What do you do when The One is also the one who broke your heart?

Self-proclaimed hot mess Scout Myers is determined to prove she’s finally got her act together. Raised by grandparents who saw her as her wayward mother’s wayward daughter, Scout’s used to being written off. So when the opportunity for a promotion arises at Paws in the City, the talent agency where she works, Scout is desperate to rise to the occasion. With shared custody of her little sister also on the line, Scout can’t afford a single mistake…like suddenly needing a canine stand-in for an important photoshoot. Luckily (or not) she knows the owner of the perfect pup replacement: the estranged husband she walked out on years ago.

On the surface, it appears Lane Halliday’s life has been blissfully drama free without Scout, but she suspects her handsome-as-ever not-quite-ex-husband doth protest too much. Working together even feels like old times—except for all that lingering, unresolved tension. But Scout’s not sure she’s ready to confront the reasons she left Lane, and when their plans to finalize the divorce become very real, Scout starts to wonder whether second chances might be worth a little hot mess.

Paws in the City – standalone

Book 1 - The Dachshund Wears Prada

    Scout Myers could think of several good reasons to be on all fours with her ass in the air, but pandering to the world’s most disagreeable cat was not one of them. Isaac Mewton—and yes, that was his real name—was a Scottish fold with the sweetest face you’d ever see. Unfortunately, despite the adorable camera-ready mug, the cat had the same disposition as those grumpy old Muppets who liked to sit on a balcony and heckle people for sport.

And Scout loved animals. One of the best things about her job at Paws in the City, New York’s premiere pet social media and talent agency, was getting to be around furry critters all day long.

Isaac Mewton, however, was officially on her shit list.


“I can see something shiny back there.” His owner pointed. “We can’t carry on without his favorite toy. He won’t sit still.”

Scout gritted her teeth and wedged her hand between the wall and a white IKEA bookcase. Cringing, she prayed none of New York’s finest creepy crawlies were hiding back there and wriggled her fingers.

“Come on,” she muttered. “Where are you?”

Eventually her fingertips brushed something hard and plastic. That had to be it. How the cat had managed to bat his toy so hard it lodged itself into such a small space was incomprehensible. Almost as incomprehensible as this client’s expectations. Seriously, how were they supposed to turn her precious kitty into a star if it wouldn’t even sit still for a headshot?

“Got it!” Her hand—and the toy—popped mercifully free.

“Great, now can we get on with it?” The client looked at Scout like this was all her fault. “I have an appointment to get to.”

Paws in the City wasn’t only Scout’s workplace; it was the brainchild of her best friend and the lifeline Scout had needed when her life couldn’t sink any lower. She came into work every day striving to do the best job possible, both for herself and her boss.

That meant pasting on a can-do smile, even when she wanted to launch a cat toy at someone’s head.

“Why don’t you get him to play with it?” Scout said, handing over the hard plastic ring, which was clear and suspended with glitter. “He might be more receptive if it comes from you.”

The woman crouched in front of the cat and attempted to engage him with the toy. But he immediately batted it across the room, where it slammed into the wall and bounced onto the floor.

    The photographer, who had shown a level of patience that should make her a shoo-in for sainthood, raised an eyebrow. This was going nowhere. Isaac Mewton sat on a velvet pouf with an artfully arranged bookshelf behind him that Scout and the photographer had prepared for his portrait, staring down everyone in the room like an angry king.

It was time to try something new. Scout retrieved a feather toy from their stash in the office. She needed to get these photos done now. Isla was due back in less than five minutes and they hadn’t gotten a single decent shot of the cat.

Let’s be real, what client would want to work with such a demanding, fussy model anyway?

Still, Scout didn’t want it to look like she didn’t have things under control.

“He doesn’t like those.” The cat’s owner shook her head and pointed at the feather toy. “It won’t work.”

“Well, we’ve tried all the toys you brought with you, so maybe a Hail Mary is exactly what we need,” Scout replied tightly, her smile turning brittle. Lord give her strength to deal with this woman! The cat was a pain, sure, but animals were animals. They couldn’t be blamed for their behavior. Their human counterparts on the other hand…

Click!

Isaac Mewton had gone still, his eyes on the new toy, and the photographer seized the moment to start snapping. Scout moved the feather in gentle sweeping motions, and the cat’s eyes followed with intense focus. He raised one paw and batted at it, ignoring the steady click, click, click of the camera.

So much for him not liking it.

Scout shoved the snarky inner comment to one side and focused on getting the cat to engage so they could wrap up the meeting as quickly as possible. Next to her, the owner huffed in annoyance as though she couldn’t believe her darling Isaac had proven her wrong.


When they were done and the woman and her cat had left the Paws in the City office, Scout’s shoulders sagged in relief. She was a people—and an animal—person at heart, but she had a pet peeve, no pun intended, about entitlement. Call it a leftover from her childhood. Her mother’s legacy was little more than a collection of emotional scars and personal quirks, but she had taught Scout one very important lesson.

Nobody owed her anything. Whatever she wanted in life, she would have to earn it.

“Are all your clients like that?” the photographer asked as she packed up her equipment. “The woman seemed to think her cat was royalty.”

Scout shook her head. “Most clients are lovely and happy to have our assistance. But there’s always the rare few who think they’re superstar material, without being willing to put in the work.”

“How long have you been open now? Only a few months, right?”

“Six months.” Scout couldn’t help her beaming smile. It might not be her business, but she was damn proud to be part of it. “And we’ve already signed over twenty clients.”

“Including Miss Pain in the Rear and her angry feline overlord?”

“We’ve had several requests for cats lately, and he was by far the cutest we’ve seen.” Scout sighed. “Let’s hope he’s in a better mood when it comes time to front up for a paying job.”

Paws in the City represented clients with four (and six) legs. They provided social media coaching to the humans running the accounts, worked on brand strategy and generally acted as a go-between in brokering sponsorship deals and other types of opportunities. They also booked animal talent for commercial shoots, both of the print and television variety. Every day was different. Scout managed the operational parts of the job, like booking appointments, supervising headshots, fielding media enquiries and consulting with the freelancers, such as photographers and grooming specialists. Plus any other random bits and bobs, like making sure they hadn’t run out of dog treats or pods for their coffee machine.

Isla always said their mission was to make the internet a happier, furrier place, and Scout loved that sentiment.

A few minutes after Scout bid the photographer farewell, the front door swung open. Though cute, their office wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, so Scout’s desk was situated in the waiting area and therefore doubled as their reception desk.

Isla breezed in, a wool coat slung over one arm and her long dark hair bouncing around her shoulders in soft curls. She was dressed in a pale blue blouse, fitted black pants and a killer pair of silver stilettos—a much fancier outfit than what she usually wore in the office. Black, though it was one of Scout’s favorite colors, was not the best when working with their furry clients.

But Isla had been at an important networking event today, so there was no need to worry about dog fur.

“Those shoes,” Scout gasped. “Wow!”

“They’re gorgeous, but they’ve been killing me all day.” She dropped onto one of the pink velvet seats lining the far wall and kicked off the shoes, groaning in relief.

“That’s a rookie move,” Scout replied. “Now your feet are going to puff up and you won’t be able to get them back on.”

“I don’t care if I have to meet Theo barefoot tonight, there’s no way I was keeping them on a second longer than necessary.”

“Hmm, barefoot to a white-tablecloth restaurant. Classy.”

Isla grinned. “Theo loves me as I am, blisters and all.”

It was true. Scout wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man so in love.

Not even on your own wedding day?


Scout shoved the unpleasant reminder to one side. The last thing she needed right now was for her mood to take a dive, thinking about inconvenient things like the fact that she was still married.

Or that she hadn’t seen her husband in five years.

 

Stefanie London is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. Her books have been called "genuinely entertaining and memorable" by Booklist, and her writing praised as "elegant, descriptive and delectable" by RT Magazine.

Originally from Australia, she now lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges her passions for lipstick, good coffee, books and anything zombie related.


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May 6, 2022

The Dachshund Wears Prada Blog Tour: Excerpt


THE DACHSHUND WEARS PRADA

Author: Stefanie London

Publication Date: May 3, 2022

Publisher: HQN Books


Book Summary:


How do you start over when the biggest mistake of your life has more than one million views?


Forget diamonds; the internet is forever. Social media consultant Isla Thompson learned that lesson the hard way when she went viral for all the wrong reasons. A month later, Isla is still having nightmares about the moment she ruined a young starlet’s career and made herself the most unemployable influencer in Manhattan. But she doesn’t have the luxury of hiding away until she’s no longer “Instagram Poison.” Not when her fourteen-year-old sister, Dani, needs Isla to keep a roof over their heads. So she takes the first job she can get: caring for Camilla, a glossy-maned, foul-tempered hellhound.


After a week of ferrying Camilla from playdates to pet psychics, Isla starts to suspect that the dachshund’s bark is worse than her bite—just like her owner, Theo Garrison. Isla has spent her career working to make people likeable and here’s Theo—happy to hide behind his reputation as a brutish recluse. But Theo isn’t a brute—he’s sweet and funny, and Isla should not see him as anything but the man who signs her pay cheques. Because loving Theo would mean retreating to his world of secluded luxury, and Isla needs to show Dani that no matter the risk, dreams are always worth chasing.

 

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Three


Isla trudged along the hallway toward her apartment, high heels swinging from her finger. Usually she wouldn’t dare go barefoot on public carpet—especially not in a building of questionable standards, like this one. But after walking six blocks to get home in the pretty, stiletto-heeled death traps, her feet had officially given up the ghost.

Besides, foot hygiene was the least of her problems. With another rejected job application—this one coming through before she’d even made it home from the interview—she had bigger things to worry about.

Isla unlocked her front door and stepped inside, her lips quirking at the familiar sight. Her little sister, Dani, was standing next to the wall, one hand resting on a makeshift barre crafted from a shower curtain rod and some wall brackets they’d found at the dollar store. She was dressed in a plain black leotard and a pair of pink ballet tights with a hole in the knee. Her battered pointe shoes were frayed around the toes, though the ribbons were glossy and new, stitched on with the utmost care.

Classical music blared from the stereo and Isla hit the pause button. “What have I said about disturbing the neighbors?”

Dani paused mid-plié. “If you’re going to do it, do it properly.”

“That’s not what I said.” She shot her sister a look, trying to ignore how her leotard was digging into her shoulders. It was clearly a size too small because the damn girl was growing like a weed. At fourteen, she’d already surpassed Isla in height.

“Oh, that’s right.” Dani grinned. “You said that about schoolwork. But, to be fair, ballet is even more important than schoolwork, so…”

“We’ll agree on that when you can pay the bills with pliés.” Isla hung her keys on the hook by the door and dumped her purse onto the kitchen counter.

“Working on it.” Dani continued warming up, her pointe shoes knocking against the floorboards. “How was your day?”

Ugh. You mean, how were the three dozen rejection letters and this last interview, which was clearly only for curiosity’s sake because the recruiter straight up laughed the second I left the interview room?

“It was…fine,” she said, without much commitment.

In reality, it was anything but fine. What had her old boss called her? Oh, that’s right: Instagram poison.

“You told me once that saying something is ‘fine’ is no better than saying it’s ‘purple pineapples.’” Dani dropped down from her relevé and frowned. “What happened?”

What hadn’t happened?

Isla pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured her-self a glass. She’d been rationing it, since the only stuff that was left after this was a box wine of unknown origin. “Amanda lost her contract with that makeup company and her movie is flopping. She sent me an angry email today.”

“Whatever happened to all publicity is good publicity?”

“It’s a myth. Turns out some things are career killers.” Isla took a gulp of the wine. “And now I’m that woman who filmed a Disney princess vomiting all over herself.”

After the live video had been splashed across the internet and featured on network television, Isla had swiftly been fired from her job as a senior social media consultant with the Gate-way Agency. All her freelance clients had dropped her like a hot potato, too. Now, anyone who searched Isla’s name got page after page of the same thing: vomit girl and the person who was too dumb to stop recording.

Hence the growing pile of rejected job applications.

“I take it the interview didn’t go well?”

Isla cringed at the concern in her sister’s voice. Most fourteen-year-olds were worrying about frivolous things, like which shade of lip gloss was the most on trend or how to craft the perfect TikTok dance routine. Hell, she would argue that’s the stuff they should be worrying about. Not whether they were going to have a roof over their heads.

“No, it didn’t,” Isla admitted. “But honestly, I’m not sure I would have wanted to work there anyway.”

It was a total lie.

Isla was ready to take anything at this point. It was humiliating to be begging for jobs she could have done ten years ago with her eyes closed, only to be rejected because the recruiters had found someone “with more experience.” Umm, what? In other words, she’d been officially blacklisted from the social media industry.

“How come?” Dani walked over to the kitchen, her arms swinging gracefully by her sides. Her dark hair was in a neat bun on top of her head, tied with a piece of leftover ribbon from her pointe shoes. “Were they not very nice?”

“Not really.”

Dani came up to Isla and put an arm around her, stooping so she could lean her head against her big sister’s shoulder. Some days it felt like it was them against the world. Given they didn’t actually know where their mother was these days—and they hadn’t seen either one of their dads in God only knew how long—they really did have to stick together.

Isla remembered the day it all happened—the eve of her twentieth birthday. Their mother had announced she was eloping overseas with a boyfriend she’d known less than a month, and they hadn’t seen her since. Apparently motherhood was a temporary commitment, in her eyes. That left Isla responsible for the well-being of another human, and more terrified of the future than she’d ever been.

Six years later, Isla had built a life for them both. She’d fostered and financed her half sister’s dreams, built up her own dream career and done it all while hiding how often the numbers weren’t in their favor. But the older Dani got, the more keenly she observed what was going on.

“Maybe you can ask the ballet school for our money back,” Dani suggested quietly.

Her spot had been secured for the summer intensive ballet camp months ago, before Isla’s job situation had fallen apart.

“I know it was really expensive,” she added.

Isla felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let her sister see even a sliver of her emotion. It was her job to be a pillar. To be the strong one. To be the positive mother figure neither of them ever had.

“Dani, I would sell my right kidney if it meant you could go to ballet camp.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

Isla snorted and wrapped her sister into a big hug. Like al-ways, she smelled of oversweet vanilla perfume and mango-scented shampoo. She would do anything for this kid. Anything to make sure Dani grew up knowing that dreams were worth chasing, and that family came first no matter what.

“And how do you know so much about black market organ sales?” Isla raised a brow and Dani laughed.

CSI.”

“Ah, of course.” She laughed. But when Dani pulled back, Isla noticed her sister’s characteristically carefree attitude was hidden under the worry swimming in her blue eyes. Isla hated seeing that. “Why don’t we go to Central Park, huh? We’ll take your phone and I can get a few shots of you for your Instagram account.”

“Really?” Dani’s eyes lit up.

“Sure. Just let me get changed.”

“I promise not to make you take a hundred photos this time.” Dani grinned and did a little pirouette in the kitchen. “Not even half that!”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Isla shot over her shoulder as she headed into her bedroom. “Trust me, I know where you get those perfectionistic tendencies.”

The second Isla closed her bedroom door behind her, she slumped against it and deflated like a balloon the day after a birthday party. Outside, the city roared with life. Sirens and horns, music blaring from the open window of another apartment, the shrieking laughter of people enjoying the early evening. She gazed out of the window, her eyes catching on the usual things that faced their cozy (read: cramped) place. There was a glimmer of light as the sun reflected off glass panes, and the zigzag of a fire escape from the building opposite them. The same three apartments always had their blinds wide open—either inviting voyeurism or not caring enough to prevent it.

Sometimes she wondered about their lives. Had they been stuck and struggling at some point like her? Had they lost faith in themselves and the world?

After she got fired, Isla had assumed it would all blow over if she kept a low profile and didn’t make matters worse. But then Amanda’s movie tanked and all her sponsorships fell through, and people stopped taking Isla’s calls. Even when she’d tried to laugh the whole thing off as a “Miley Cyrus exercise” her contacts had frozen harder than an Upper East Sider’s Botoxed face.

New York could be like that—when you were successful it felt as though the sun was made of gold. And when you fell from grace, you hit the concrete so hard you shattered every bone in your body.

How much longer was she going to be able to keep faking that everything would be fine? Rent was due next week and the final payment for Dani’s elite ballet camp had come out of her account a few days ago. Isla’s eyes had watered at the amount. But Dani had worked so hard, practicing every day and pushing herself to the limit to beat out the rich kids with their prestigious coaches and private lessons and their lifetimes of opportunity.

How could Isla pull the rug out from under Dani like that? What kind of lesson would that be teaching her?

“You’ll figure this out,” she said to herself. “Someone will hire you.”

After all, she had to make it work. Because letting her sister down was not an option.

 

Excerpted from The Dachshund Wears Prada by Stefanie London, Copyright © 2022 by Stefanie Little. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

Stefanie London is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. Her books have been called "genuinely entertaining and memorable" by Booklist, and her writing praised as "elegant, descriptive and delectable" by RT Magazine. Originally from Australia, she now lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges her passions for lipstick, good coffee, books and anything zombie related.

 

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Author Website

Instagram: @stefanielondon

Facebook: @London's Lovelies

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