Extract - Production Values by Liv Bartlet
I am delighted to feature an extract from the Production Values today on Six Tinder Weeks - finally a bit of glamour and Hollywood! On reading the extract, I wish I signed up for a review. Get ready for snogging and lots of wankers! What a great intro - well done to the author!
What is the book about? Production Values
���Mornings like this I can understand the appeal of killer high heels. How they click with command down the sidewalk: Get out of my way, I���m in charge and I���ve got the footwear to prove it.���
At the age of 28, Kat Porter has become the it-girl of British TV Production. Gut, gumption, and artistry have carried her through a dozen impossible scenarios to arrive at her first run as Executive Producer, and now all three muses point to Ian Graham���s star power as the key to Los Angeles and golden statues.
But disaster looms as Ian twists Kat into a chameleon fit for success. Ian���s young daughter is thrown into the spotlight and Kat must face the consequences of her neverending quest for acclaim.
Production Values takes a biting but fun look at Hollywood���from the way we interpret female ambition to the influence of the paparazzi on how TV shows and stars fail or succeed.
Where can I purchase it?
US - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0722TBB3C
UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0722TBB3C
The Extract starts here
Intro
The Golden Globes are over. Kat has disappeared with Ian, while Bea and the cast of 21 Things wind down from the evening.
Excerpt
The tink and titter of the after-party had long ago faded into white noise. Bea and the cast sat amidst strewn jackets and abandoned shoes, worn down by all the excitement. Bea picked the pimentos out of the olives abandoned in martini glasses around the table and formed a pile on the white tablecloth.
Anna slumped forward, fully flat on the table. ���My feet. So painful. The conversation worse. How many times do I say I���m surprised? What after that?���
���I���m brilliant and you should hire me?��� Bea offered.
���Eh, no. You wrote me the perfect role. I should hand this to you.���
���I���ve got one.��� Bea pointed at her trophy and then bowled an olive through her stack of pimentos. The red scattered.
Ben���s hands covered her shoulders as he sat in a chair pulled close behind her. ���Why the long face? Winners remorse, fearless leader?���
���Wanker stole my best friend remorse, more like.��� Bea scooped her pimentos back together.
���A wanker? I���m much too famous to be a mere wanker, aren���t I?��� Ben said in an unidentifiable accent as he dropped an arm over Quinn. She looked hot. Her gray sheath dress was almost no dress at all. Dress or no dress didn���t matter: Quinn turned heads. She wasn���t as talented as Anna, but her looks would keep doors wide open. Ben appreciated every ounce of her, more so in that dress as he openly leered at the gap in the top of the gown.
Quinn pushed Ben off. ���Oh, that���s not Ian at all. Not even a good Sean Connery.���
Ben slouched in front of Quinn, a dead-on impression of Ian in thought. ���And who are you? Edwin Drood in Piccadilly, was it? Or my waitress last week? Never mind. I���ll bed you anyway. Get over here and let me lick your face.���
Ben fell over Quinn in mimic of the oft-told awful snog. Bea held back a laugh as she bowled another set of pimentos.
Jamie reached around to grab Quinn out from under Ben. ���Let her up, Ben. She should only have to live through Ian���s pawing once.���
���Oh, don���t make me remember. Worst snog of my life. I could only forget it through hypnosis. My trigger word is wanker. I think of him and then wanker and then poof! the memory is gone.��� Quinn giggled and wiggled out from under Ben, but he wrapped both his arms around her. Kat insisted Ben wanted Quinn in every way. Bea wasn���t so sure. A toss, sure, but something serious? Quinn had better taste and Ben seemed to enjoy switching out his bedmates.
���And who are you?��� Ben said to Jamie. ���Wait. No. Don���t bother me with a name. Forgettable. I���ll just call you Forgettable.���
Adhira wagged a finger at Jamie. ���Honestly, if I���d known how Ian treated you all, I���d never have spoken to him. Not even chocolate is worth inflating that head.���
���Any larger and it would pop.��� Anna popped a pretend balloon with her hands.
���Anna, honey, he���d let you pop any of his inflated heads.��� Quinn licked her lips and grinned at Anna. If Bea had to bet on a 21 Things hookup, it would���ve been Quinn and Anna. Their chemistry exploded like hydrogen and oxygen every time they got to joking.
Anna bumped Quinn with her hip. ���I���ve low standards for men, but I���m not so desperate as to give Ian head, thank you very much.���
���I can���t figure out what Kat is thinking. To blow us all off at the Globes for that . . . that . . .��� Adhira huffed and threw her hands in the sky. ���She should remember that saying���Jamie, how does it go?���Hos over bros, no?���
Jamie laughed, his arms around his wife. ���Adhira, love, no. I���ve explained this idiom several times. Bros over hos.���
���Well, your version is idiotic. I like mine better.���
Ben chuckled. ���Kat is not going to choose anything over Ian���s hose. Not ever.��� Everyone else laughed at Ben���s off-color joke, but Bea grimaced. Kat was too entranced by the fame that shed like flakes from Ian Graham.
Author Bio ���
Liv Bartlet is the pseudonym for writing partners Becca McCulloch and Sarah McKnight, who have been building worlds and telling stories together for more than a decade. They���ve logged hours of behind-the-scenes movie and TV footage and challenged each other in a friendly Oscar guessing game every year this millennium. Lifelong Anglophiles, their Monkey & Me world sprang to vivid life on a trip to London that included divine pastries, sublime art, and a spectacular pratfall in the British Museum.
Becca is a professor, a scientist, and a secret romantic who insisted their first order of business in London was a meandering five-mile walk to see Big Ben. She lives with her husband, children, and an ever-expanding roster of pets in Logan, Utah.
Sarah is an Army brat, an Excel geek, and has a lot of opinions on the differences between science fiction and fantasy. She lives with her cat, Sir Jack���who is featured prominently on Liv���s Instagram ���just outside Salt Lake City.
Social Media Links ���
https://twitter.com/LivBartlet
https://www.facebook.com/livbartletwrites/
