Series: Broke and Beautiful #1
Genres: Contemporary, Fiction, New Adult, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Published by HarperCollins Publication Date: March 17th 2015
Pages: 272
Also in this series: Need Me, Need Me
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Find on: Goodreads
College drop-out Roxy Cumberland moved to New York with dreams of becoming an actress, but her dwindling bank account is quickly putting the kibosh on that fantasy. To make some quick cash, she signs up to perform singing telegrams. Her first customer is a gorgeous, cocky Manhattan trust-funder if she ever laid eyes on one. And what could be more humiliating than singing an ode to his junk, courtesy of his last one night stand? Maybe the fact that sheβs dressed in a giant pink bunny costumeβ¦After a night out to celebrate winning his last case, lawyer Louis McNally the Second isnβt prepared for the pounding in his head or the rabbit serenading him from the front door. But the sassy wit and sexy voice of the girl behind the mask intrigue him, and one look at her stunning faceβfollowed by a mind-blowing kiss against his doorjambβleaves Louis wanting more.Roxy doesnβt need a spoiled rich boy whoβs had everything in life handed to him on a Tiffany platter. But thereβs more to Louis than his sexy surface and heβs determined to make Roxy see it...even if it means chasing her all over NYC.
Karen’s Thoughts
This Tessa Bailey story is light hearted with many laugh out loud moments.Β Roxy Cumerland is a struggling actress living in New York.Β She needs money desperately and is willing to do just about anything to earn it, even agreeing to wear a bunny costume and sing for the sixty bucks someone is willing to pay her for a singing telegram.Β On her first assignment, Roxy meets Louis McNally, a young, attorney enjoying his carefree bachelor lifestyle. Β Heβs a nice guy and even though he comes from a wealthy family, I was impressed with his altruistic motives for becoming an attorney.Β He does a lot of pro bono work and wants to help as many people as he can.
From the moment Louis sees Roxy in her bunny costume, he canβt forget her and does everything in his power to spend time with her.Β Louis pursues Roxy, but she keeps pushing him away.Β She likes Louis, but wants to keep things light.Β For the first time his life, Louis wishes a girl wanted more.Β Most girls want a commitment and now that Louis has finally found a woman he really likes, she is commitment averse. Β Roxy is different from all the other girls Louis has known. Β Sheβs tough, independent, hard working and vulnerable.Β I enjoyed this playful, sweet story and it was fun getting a behind the scenes look at the life of a struggling actress. Β This is the first book in the Broke and Beautiful series and each on is a stand-alone.
Todayβs weather forecast: imminent shitstorms across the Tri-State area.
Roxy Cumberlandβs footsteps echoed off the smooth, cream-colored walls of the hallway, high heels clicking along the polished marble. When she caught her reflection in the pristine window overlooking Stanton Street, she winced. This pink bunny costume wasnβt doing shit for her skin tone. A withering sigh escaped her as she tugged the plastic mask back into place.
Singing telegrams still existed. Who knew? Sheβd actually laughed upon seeing the tiny advertisement in the Village Voiceβs Help Wanted section, but curiosity had led her to dial the number. Her laughter had stopped abruptly when sheβd heard exactly how much people were willing to pay in exchange for her humiliation. So here she was, one day later, preparing to sing in front of a perfect stranger for a cut of sixty bucks.
Sixty bucks might not sound like much, but when your roommate has just booted you onto your ass for failure to come through on rentβagainβleaving you no place to live, and your checking account is gasping for oxygen, pink bunnies do what pink bunnies must. At least her round, fluffy tail would cushion her fall when her ass hit the sidewalk.
See? Sheβd already found a silver lining. Maybe the shitstorm would hold.
Or not. Over the last week, sheβd been on thirteen auditions, trudging on blistered feet between callbacks and will-definitely-never-call-backs, smiling and reciting lines for bored production executives. Toothpaste commercials, walk-on rolls for daytime soapsβ¦hell, sheβd even auditioned to play a mother in a diaper rash ad. Theyβd all but laughed her twenty-one-year-old ass out of the building.
Too bad they couldnβt touch her. Nothing and nobody could. She was from New fucking Jersey.
While Roxy usually kept that fact to herself, she couldnβt help but admit that Jersey had prepared her for this constant rejection. It had given her the brass balls to say βtheir lossβ every single time someone in a business suit decided her acting skills werenβt good enough. That she wasnβt good enough. One word kept her going, kept her boarding the subway to another audition. Someday. Someday she would look back at this pre-stardom experience and be grateful for it. Sheβd cozy up to Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet and have a damn good story to tell. Although she might just leave out the pink bunny suit.
Unfortunately, on days like today, when a shitstorm cloud was riding low above her head, following her everywhere she went, someday seemed a long way off. Sixty dollars couldnβt plug the hole in the shitcloud, it could only keep her eating properly for the next week. As far as her living situation went, sheβd figure something out. If it meant taking the bus to Jersey and sneaking into her old bedroom for the night, sheβd bite the bullet. The next morning, sheβd slip her feet back into her heels and get back to pounding the pavement, her parents never being the wiser.
Through the eyeholes of the bunny mask, Roxy glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand. Apartment 4D. Based on the song sheβd memorized on the way here and the swank interior of the building, she knew the type who would answer the door. Some too-rich, middle-aged douchebag who was so bored with his life that he needed to be entertained with novelties like singing bunny rabbits. Heβd close the door when she finished, text his main squeeze some emoticon-heavy thank-you, and forget all about this little diversion on his way to play indoor tennis.
Roxyβs gaze tracked down lower on the note in her hand, and she felt an uncomfortable kick of unease in her belly. Sheβd met her new boss at a tiny office in Alphabet City, surprised to find a dude only slightly older than herself running the operation. Always suspicious, sheβd asked him how he kept the place afloat. There couldnβt be that high a demand for singing telegrams, right? Heβd laughed, explaining that singing bunnies only accounted for a tenth of their income. The rest came in the form of strip-o-grams. Sheβd done her best to appear flattered when heβd told her sheβd be perfect for it.
Would she go that far? Taking her clothes off for strangers paid a damn sight more than sixty bucks. It would be so easy for her to take that leap. As an actress, she had the ability to detach herself and become someone else. Being the object of attention didnβt bother her; it was what sheβd trained herself for. That kind of income would guarantee her a place to live, allow her to continue auditioning without worrying about her next meal. So why the hesitation?
She ran a thumb over the rates young-dude-boss had jotted down on the slip of paper. Two hundred dollars for each ten-minute performance. God, the security she would feel with that kind of money. And yet, something told her that once she took that step, once she started taking off her clothes, she would never stop. It would become a necessity instead of a temporary patch-up of her shitstorm cloud.
Think about it later. When youβre not dressed like the fucking Trix Rabbit. Roxy took a deep, fortifying breath, the same one she took before every audition. She wrapped her steady fingers around the brass door knocker and rapped it against the wood twice. A frown marred her forehead when she heard a miserable groan come from inside the apartment. It sounded like a young groan. Maybe the douchebag had a son? Oh, cool. She definitely wanted to do this in front of someone in her age group. Perfect.
Her sarcastic thought bubble burst over her head when the door swung open, revealing a guy. A hot-as-hell guy. A naked-except-for-unbuttoned-jeans guy. Being the shameless hussy she was, her gaze immediately dipped to his happy trail, although, on this guy, it really should have been called a rapture path. It started just beneath his belly button, which sat at the bottom of beautifully defined ab muscles. But they werenβt the kind of abs honed from hours in the gym. No, they were natural, I-do-sit-ups-when-I-damn-well-feel-like-it abs. Approachable abs. The kind you could either lick or snuggle up against, depending on your mood.
Roxy lassoed her rapidly dwindling focus and yanked it higher until she met his eyes. Big mistake. The abs were childβs play compared to the face. Stubbled jaw. Bed head. Big, Hershey-colored eyes outlined by dark, black lashes. His fists were planted on either side of the door frame, giving her a front-row seat to watch his chest and arms flex. A lesser woman would have applauded. As it was, Roxy was painfully aware of her bunny-costumed status, and even that came in second place to the fact that Approachable Abs was so stinking rich that he could afford to be nursing a hangover at eleven in the morning. On a Thursday.
He dragged a hand through his unkempt black hair. βAm I still drunk, or are you dressed like a rabbit?β
His voice was rough from sleep. Probably not his usual voice. That had to be the reason her tummy did a backflip. βIβm dressed like a rabbit.β
βOkay.β He tilted his head. βShould I be drunk for this?β
βIf anyone should be drunk for this, itβs me.β
βGood point.β He jerked his thumb back toward his dark apartment. βI think thereβs some tequila leftββ
βYou know what?β This is my life right now. How did I get here? βI think Iβm all set.β
He nodded once, as if out of respect for her decision. βSo what now?β
βAre youβ¦β She consulted her slip of paper through the round eyeholes. βLouis McNally?β
βYeah.β He leaned against the doorjamb and considered her. βI was named after my grandfather. So, technically, Iβm Louis McNally the Second. Howβs that for fancy?β
βWhy are you telling me this?β
βJust making small talk.β
βIs this a typical Thursday exploit for you? Get a lot of forest creatures on your doorstep?β
βYouβd be the first.β
βWell, then. Call me Pink Bunny the First. Howβs that for fancy?β When he laughed, she was grateful for the mask that hid her unexpected smile. Honestly, this situation was getting more ridiculous by the minute. She definitely didnβt have time for this. At one oβclock she was auditioning for a small theater companyβs ironic production of Lassie. Priorities, Roxy.
βYou sound cute.β He squinted at her, as if attempting to see through the plastic mask. βYou cute under there, bunny?β
βBeing that your one-night stand from last night sent me here to sing for you, I donβt know if that matters,β she answered sweetly.
βCute girls trump all.β One dark eyebrow rose. βWhat was that about singing?β
Roxy cleared her throat, letting the horrifically stupid lyrics imprint on her brain. Lyrics she hadnβt written, thanks God. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could get out of the suffocating costume and forget this ever happened. Until tomorrow. When she was scheduled to dress like a giant bumble bee. For fuck sake.
Make every performance count. Channeling Liza Minnelli, she cocked one hip and raised the opposite hand.
To my hot shot honey bunny
Last night we went places and had some fun-ny
You brought me home and we skipped the small talk
Now Iβm daydreaming about your perfectβ
βStop.β Louis shook his head slowly. βJesus, please, make it stop.β
Roxy let her hand drop to her side. βYou better be complaining about the lyrics and not my singing.β
βIβsure.β He scanned the hallway, looking relieved when he saw that none of his neighbors had overheard. βWho did you say sent you?β
She stared back at him, dumbfounded. Not that he could tell with the mask hiding her face. βYou had more than one girl over last night?β
βI was celebrating,β he said defensively. βDonβt be a judgmental rabbit. Theyβre the worst.β
βO-kay, my work is done here.β She turned tailβliterallyβand started walking back toward the elevator. Over her shoulder, she called, βZoe sent me. You might want to write that down.β
βIs she the redhead?β Louis called back. When Roxy stopped in her tracks, he smiled to let her know heβd been kidding. Maybe. βHold up. Can you just wait here a second? I should give you a tip.β
As he fumbled in his jeans pocket, Roxy smirked. βWhich tip are we referring to here? I did just sing an ode to your penis.β
βPlease donβt remind me.β He drew a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet, pinching it between his fingers. βJust one request, though. I want to see your face first.β
Roxy felt a stab of irritation. What the hell did it matter what she looked like? Everywhere she went, every part she read for, critical eyes poked and prodded her. Too thin. Too curvy. Too tall. Too short. Never what they wanted. And just this morning, sheβd been told she had a stripperβs body. The fact that this wealthy party guy was holding money over her head in order to judge her appearance only tripled her annoyance. βWhy? If you like what you see, will you invite me inside? You havenβt even showered off the last girl yet.β
He actually had the grace to look a little ashamed. βIββ
Roxy didnβt give a shit about his answer. βWould you expect me to be flattered?β She clutched her chest dramatically. βPlease, oh keeper of the golden penis, let me worship at your flawless phallus.β
βCareful.β His shame morphed into irritation. βYouβre starting to sound a little jealous to me.β
βJealous?β Oh, that did it. The shitstorm cloud above her head darkened, lightning bolts shooting through its sides. Kicked out of her apartment, not a single callback in weeks, and leaning toward stripping. Heβd caught her on a bad fucking day. Honestly, good days were getting harder to come by, and right now, she could think of only one thing that would help. Wiping the smug superiority off the Penis Princeβs face.
She bit down on her lips to plump them up, then reached up and removed the mask. Satisfaction danced in her bloodstream when his jaw went slack, brown eyes melting into a deeper shade. Thatβs right, buddy. I ainβt half bad. As she strode toward him, he straightened from the doorjamb, a groan working its way free of his throat. He saw the intention in her expression, knew what was coming. It didnβt escape her that even though she wore a thick pink bunny suit, he was looking at her like she wore a string bikini. Louis McNally the Second was an interesting character, sheβd give him that.
βJealous?β she repeated before shoving him into the apartment, bringing his back up against the inside wall just beside the door. βSweetheart, I would rock your world.β
Not giving him a chance to respond, she surged up on her toes and melded their mouths together. Ohhh, snap. There was zero hesitation on his part, just a long, expert pull of her lips. As if sheβd let go of a trapeze and heβd caught her in midair. The kiss hit the ground running, mouths opening, tongues fighting to take the lead. One strong hand found her chin and pulled it down further, allowing him to slant his head and deepen the kiss even further. Shock exploded behind her eyes, and she swayed a little under the wave of heat. Affected. He was affecting her in a way she wasnβt familiar with. Sheβd kissed a lot of guys, but sheβd never felt dread over the idea of stopping. Louis pushed his tongue deeper, making a hungry sound and sending it vibrating into her mouth. She echoed it. Louder. Her head fell back and he moved with her, keeping their lips locked together, as if he couldnβt allow her to get away. What was happening here? She was losing control of the situation. Get it back.
Roxy pulled back and sucked in a deep breath. His mouth was damp and parted as he tried to draw in his own oxygen, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. βWho the hell are you?β
Swallowing the odd feeling in her throat, she plucked the twenty-dollar bill out of his fingers. βIβm gone.β
She blew into the hallway, sensing him staring after her. With as much dignity as one could muster while dressed like a pink bunny, she bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, two at a time.