Free Rules of Lying (Jane Dough Series) by Stephie Smith Page B

before six a.m. My second thought was, Bryan Rossi woos romance writer? Not Local doctor woos romance writer or Young, handsome doctor woos romance writer? Who the hell was Bryan Rossi that a headline would have his name in it, when I, the subject of these stories, was just romance writer?
    “Is Bryan Rossi someone special? Aside from the fact that he’s a doctor, of course.” I had to clarify because the doctor part was all the “special” he would need in Mom’s book.
    “Special? Special? Do you not read Forbes? Or Cosmopolitan, for that matter?”
    Hmmm, did Mom read Forbes or Cosmopolitan for that matter? I doubted it.
    “Bryan Rossi is one of the top bachelors in the country! His father is Senator Rossi from New Hampshire! His mother is a Vanderbilt! My goodness, his family has so much money that … Jane, are you there?”
    Yes, I was there, but I was about to pass out. The words Prince Charming had suddenly flashed before my eyes, pretty much in the manner that I expected something to flash before my eyes as I was about to meet Death. Prince Charming had come for me on his charging white Jaguar and I had turned him down because I was pretending to marry some unknown ad respondent? Yes, I had. I started to kick myself, but then I remembered I didn’t believe in Prince Charming.
    “Look, Mom, I turned Bryan down. He wasn’t applying for the husband-wanted job, and I don’t have time to fly up to Atlanta for concerts while I’m trying to save my property.”
    “What? Concerts? What are you talking about? I’m talking about Dr. Bryan Rossi. He could pay your fine with pocket change. You wouldn’t be living in your house anyway, because he lives on the Hill. Did you hear me? The Hill!”
    Yes, I heard her. The “Hill” was Island Hill, an exclusive island neighborhood built within the last five years. Ground had been broken on the island about one second after a news release that a gigantic state-of-the-future medical research facility was in the works. Neurosurgeons, oncologists, and bigtime research scientists snatched up the lots on Island Hill like Christmas shoppers snatched up the newest fad toy on Black Friday.
    The island was called the Hill because tons of dirt had been brought in to build up the island prior to construction, as a safeguard against flooding. The prospective homeowners had gone a step further and had the footprint of their homes built up even higher than the surrounding land. The result was that each mansion sat on a hill by itself, the overall effect being one of majesty when looking up from the wide, beautifully landscaped drive below.
    It’d be enough to make you snicker—there had been a ton of jokes about how the island was going to sink and take all those heavy egos with it—but so far the Hill had weathered the hurricanes quite well. I’d house-hunted there with Sue when I first moved back. Not because I could afford to buy in the neighborhood—I’d have to be number one on the New York Times bestseller list about sixty-two times before that could be a possibility—but because Sue had insisted. It was one of the few ways a non-resident could get past the guards at the gate for a look.
    “Dr. Rossi didn’t ask me to marry him, he asked for a date.”
    “But a date, Jane! All marriages start with a date!”
    “Not this one,” I said. “This one starts with a legal agreement where a man promises to work very hard to help fix up my lot the way I want it fixed up in return for getting his name on the deed. That’s the way this marriage starts. Bryan Rossi just wanted to have a good time and meanwhile, my time was going to run out. I don’t want to talk about it anymore and besides, I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
    As I was putting the phone down, I heard one last wail, “But Jane, he’s a doctor. ”
    I sat there for a minute thinking about my life. I’d repeated the husband-wanted lie so many times that I was starting to believe it myself. Except I knew