Happy Sunday! In today's spotlight, author AJ Llewellyn is sharing a bit from her new release, The Fluffer.
Being a fluffer for a magazine’s male centerfolds should be a dream job for Jack, or will it be a ticket to hell?
Jack Casey has a communications degree and a ton of experience in the journalism field, but can’t land a full-time job. When one crops up for a mysterious new men’s magazine, he meets the hottest man he’s ever seen in his life. Somebody submitted garlic farmer Luke Silverfall to Men’s World as a centerfold. But it wasn’t Luke himself. Can Jack persuade him to model and let Jack er, fluff him up for the camera? Or is fate about to take a nasty turn for Jack?
Luke Silverfall had no idea he’d been submitted for a centerfold spread for a magazine. When Jack Casey calls him and asks about Luke’s new line of peeled onions, he assumes the guy’s a chef of some kind. Well, Jack likes to cook all right. He cooks up lies and subterfuge, or so Luke thinks. Can he trust the fluffer? Or will he have to give up the career he once wanted so desperately? Will it lie, with all his other wishes in a field of broken dreams?
I’d been half asleep when I sent off an email, starting with what I thought was an amusing reply to the post’s tantalizing words.
Production coordinator needed for new men’s magazine. Must have at least two years’ journalistic experience. Provide online links to five recent articles. Must be computer savvy with regard to layout and design. You should have no problems with male nudity.
I’d written, “I have no problems with male nudity. I adore naked men.” I’d attached my résumé, included links and contact information, per the post’s request. Okay, Jack. You did it. Keep looking. Maybe there are more ads.
There were, but I wasn’t interested in modeling, or babysitting somebody’s pet alligator. I had no mechanic skills and knew nothing about animal husbandry. I scrolled back to the ad.
Then I started to worry.
I wasn’t savvy production-wise, but that’s what YouTube was for. There was a video for everything, including magazine layout and design. Only after I hit the send button did I realize I’d probably written the wrong thing. But I’d been honest.
I doadore naked men.
Steve, the editor in chief of the magazine called me half an hour later.
“Saw your email. Like your humor. Our first issue will be out September first, so we need someone fast.”
“What’s it called?” I hoped to Google it and get a feel for things.
“Men’s World,” Steve said. “You won’t find anything online.”
Boy, was he psychic or what?
“Can you be in West Hollywood in an hour? I think you’re the guy I’m looking for.”
I assumed he meant in his office. Not his bed. Focus, Jack. “I can be there. No problem.” I was midway through my second cup of coffee and my third— or maybe fourth— viewing of the DVD for the movie Taken. My Liam Neeson fetish had taken an obsessive turn into daddy porn, according to my brother, Mike.
“Excellent. We don’t validate, so find parking on the street.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I look forward to meeting you, Steve.” I sounded gracious, I thought. Ha!As if I had better things to do. I had this Friday day off because it was a holiday weekend and Mike had given all his employees the luxury of a four-day break. It had been depressing to realize I had nothing else to do. No men to date, no barbecues scheduled. Just me and Liam, and some fine daddy porn. Not that I was complaining. The weather was so hot I almost fainted on the job two days before, and today’s temperature promised to climb to triple digits.
A.J. Llewellyn is the author of over 250 M/M romance novels. She was born in Australia, and lives in Los Angeles. An early obsession with Robinson Crusoe led to a lifelong love affair with islands, particularly Hawaii and Easter Island.
Being marooned once on Wedding Cake Island in Australia cured her of a passion for fishing, but led to a plotline for a novel. A.J.’s friends live in fear because even the smallest details of their lives usually wind up in her stories. A.J. has a desire to paint, draw, juggle, work for the FBI, walk a tightrope with an elephant, be a chess champion, a steeplejack, master chef, and a world-class surfer. She can’t do any of these things so she writes about them instead.
A.J. started life as a journalist and boxing columnist, and still enjoys interrogating, er, interviewing people to find out what makes them tick.
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