It’s release day for Act Like It by Lucy Parker! I am so excited to share this new contemporary romance with you! Lucy is sharing an excerpt and a giveaway with us today, so be sure to check it all out!
Synopsis:
This just in: romance takes center stage as West End theatre's Richard Troy steps out with none other than castmate Elaine Graham
Richard Troy used to be the hottest actor in London, but the only thing firing up lately is his temper. We all love to love a bad boy, but Richard's antics have made him Enemy Number One, breaking the hearts of fans across the city.
Have the tides turned? Has English rose Lainie Graham made him into a new man?
Sources say the mismatched pair has been spotted at multiple events, arm in arm and hip to hip. From fits of jealousy to longing looks and heated whispers, onlookers are stunned by this blooming romance.
Could the rumors be right? Could this unlikely romance be the real thing? Or are these gifted stage actors playing us all?
It would have
helped if she’d got further than the couch part of the couch-to-5k training
plan she’d printed off the internet. Lainie crossed the finishing line and
immediately dropped her head toward the ground, leaning her hands against her
thighs and fiercely rejecting the urge to vomit. She was embarrassingly unfit,
but if the chain-smoking, foulmouthed comedian two steps ahead of her could
finish with a smile on his face and no visible signs of nausea, then so could
she. She straightened with an effort, cringing as her back made an audible
cracking sound. Performing in a play was a physical job, for God’s sake. It
required stamina. She didn’t even have the excuse of sitting behind a computer
all day.
Camera lights
flashed as more participants made it over the line. They included several soap
actors, a controversial political commentator, a popular abstract artist, and a
DJ from Radio 1. The fund-raising committee had managed to put together a
respectable hit list of names for the Shining Lights UK 5k, considering that
Fun Runs were among the least popular of charitable events. She couldn’t even
say the term without an ironic inflection on the first word. What kind of
half-witted masochist actually enjoyed running on a drizzly October morning in
London? On a weekday, no less, when there were plenty of people about with
laptops and coffee cups, observing the mania with perplexity.
Lainie had tried
to suggest an alternative—a bake-off, a rock concert—but the director of the
foundation was a jogging enthusiast who refused to believe that other people
might not share his predilection for spandex. She saw him now, standing by the
refreshment table, doing some kind of yoga stretch and looking cool and
unfazed. He didn’t even have sweat stains in his armpits. Unnatural.
“Well done!” he
called to her. “How was that?”
About
thirty-five minutes of pure, wheezing hell, thank you for asking.
“Great,” she
said, desperately sucking air into her abused lungs. “Brilliant way to start
the day.” If you enjoy unrelenting pain. “I beat my personal best time.”
Which was true,
in the sense that she had never run a 5k before and hopefully never would
again.
Oh, well. It was
all money for worthy coffers.
“Couldn’t agree
with you more,” he enthused. “Nothing more invigorating than an early morning
run.”
The poor man had
obviously never had early morning sex. Or a caramel latte.
He nodded toward
the throng of spectators, shivering under their support banners. “Good to see
the SOs out in force, as well.”
“The SOs?” she
asked blankly, trying to follow the direction of his gaze. Had she failed to
swot up on necessary athletic jargon as well? Safety Officers? Sports Officials?
Sulky Octopi? She had no idea.
“Significant
others. Always helps to have a cheerleader on the sidelines, doesn’t it?” He
chuckled. “Yours looks a bit worn around the edges. Dragged him out of bed
early, did you?”
Completely at
sea, Lainie didn’t respond. Then she finally saw what—or rather whom—he was
looking at. Richard was leaning against a pop-up art installation. The enormous
statue of a polar bear wore an identical frown and a similar amount of facial
hair. The bear was evidently very worried about the status of global warming; a
stroppy and still unshaven Richard appeared more concerned with his own warmth,
or lack thereof. His hands were thrust in his pockets and he was doing the
standing jig-dance of the cold and crabby, bobbing from one foot to the other.
Absently
excusing herself from the grinning director, Lainie hurried over to him,
blowing on her own ungloved hands. Now that she had stopped running, the chill
was creeping in.
“What are you
doing here?” she asked, amazed and irritable. This had not, as far as she knew,
been on their agreed list of activities, and she couldn’t imagine he was pining
for her company. She felt justifiably annoyed with him for turning up when she
was a red-faced, snot-nosed mess. Not that she had ever exactly bowled him over
when she was a painstakingly curled, professionally made-up siren, either.
Although he
hadn’t seemed repelled during that one rain-saturated moment earlier in the
week. Which she was never going to think about again. She’d been telling
herself so all week.
He hadn’t wanted
to kiss her.
Had he?
Lucy Parker lives in the gorgeous Central Otago region of New Zealand, where she feels lucky every day to look out at mountains, lakes, and vineyards. She has a degree in Art History, loves museums and art galleries, and doodles unrecognizable flowers when she has writer’s block.
When she’s not writing, working or sleeping, she happily tackles the towering pile of to-be-read books that never gets any smaller. Thankfully, there’s always another story waiting.
Her interest in romantic fiction began with a pre-teen viewing of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (Firth-style), which prompted her to read the book as well. A family friend introduced her to Georgette Heyer, and the rest was history.
