BLURB: In a "Bachelor" meets "Survivor"-style reality TV show, twelve women are flown to an undisclosed location to meet the eligible bachelor Ky, a former boy band member and the privileged son of an LA plastic surgeon. After arriving at a beautiful resort in Bali, the women compete for a chance at love as they fight to win Ky’s affection.
Morgan, the blunt, down-to-earth, girl next door; Harper, a wannabe Hollywood starlet who is competing not only for her fifteen minutes of fame but to win enough money for breast implants; and Brinkley, the innocent, Jesus-loving Midwesterner who believes that she and Ky are a match made in heaven, must go head-to-head with nine other women on group dates and in challenges to stay in the competition.
What happens behind the scenes when a dating reality show goes awry?
Harper sat sandwiched between what appeared to be two identical women. No, she wasn’t seeing double. She just happened to be at a casting call in West Hollywood where the typical women that fit the bill were blond, blue-eyed, and impressively tanned. Whether all of the above were real or fake was still to be determined.
Not like Harper was one to talk. Her long, honey blond hair came from a little friend called Clairol. But that was only a temporary fix until she could get back on her feet again and continue seeing her colorist, Avondre. He was known for making magic out of what was once mousy, drab-brown hair.
Her blue eyes really were her natural color. Only they happened to be enhanced just a smidge with nonprescription color contacts that she’d picked up at a gas station near her month-to-month rental apartment in the cheapest neighborhood she could find in Manhattan Beach.
And, yes, she was tan just like the rest of them. She spent every single afternoon lying at the beach. Not out of luxury but out of necessity. It seemed that the air-conditioner in her tiny, pre-furnished studio apartment was nothing more than a puff of lukewarm air that blew at random. Normally at 7 PM at night when the apartment had already cooled down after the sun had set.
So afternoons in her tiny shoebox of an apartment were unbearable, to say the least.
One of the she-clones to the right of Harper elbowed her in the ribs to get her attention. A little too hard, in her opinion. Harper looked up with a wide-eyed expression on her face that she had perfected after years of playing the victim to family, friends, and especially men in her life.
The Glamazon hissed out of the side of her mouth, barely turning her head to acknowledge Harper’s existence. “Um, I’m pretty sure they’re calling your name.”
She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail on the clipboard that sat in Harper’s lap. It held her lengthy application and background check, which were required to even be considered for the show in the first place. And at the top of the application, clear as day, read her name: ‘Harper Berry.’
Harper was suddenly all ears. A petite production assistant who was attractive in an edgy/emo kind of way scanned the room with a bored expression on her face. “This is the final call for Ms. Berry. Does anyone know if there is a Harper Berry here for casting?”
She didn’t want to seem too eager. Even though this was the moment she had waited four hours and thirty-five minutes for, not counting the insane traffic gridlock that had cost her fifty-five extra minutes on the way to the studio.
She stood up slowly. She smoothed her Size Three Genetic skinny jeans in charcoal gray and plastered a cheery, professional smile across her face that would have made her the perfect spokesperson for a toothpaste ad. “Here! I’m right here.”
She took three short steps across the lobby and held out her hand to the disinterested production assistant. In one swift motion, she pumped the malnourished assistant’s hand up and down and covered the ‘F’ on the Fucci knockoff label on her handbag with the other.
That was a move she did so often that it had become second nature. Any time she came across someone she needed to impress—whether it was an executive in the industry, an older, wealthy gentleman who wanted to wine her and dine her, or even a catty Kim Kardashian look-alike bitch that she bumped into on the boardwalk—Harper automatically hid the label on her faux-designer handbag so that it only read ‘ucci.’
As far as she could tell, ‘ucci’ translated the same in any language.
She followed the PA down a long corridor. She fixed her eyes on the back of what appeared to be an asymmetrical, nouveau Flock of Seagulls hairstyle. Was the 80’s comeback really that popular?
Review Rating: 4 LIGHTNING BOLTS
Review: Are you ready for an adventure? Well then, here's one for you in Adventure to Love. I may not be a reality TV show fan, unless it has something to do with storm chasing or a few other things, but I'll admit I dig the books that have them as a set theme! So I'll easily jump at the chance to read those type of stories, and I was glad I did with Adventure to Love. Ms. Ramos has an easy writing style that quickly draws you into the story, holding your attention from cover to cover. I had a blast with this story! The characters are well done, and the storyline was fast paced and fun. It's a fun twist on a Survivor meets The Bachelor type reality show...
Things aren't always as they seem, and what's not scripted for the show is sure to cause a few sparks. The unexpected happens for the contestants, and I'd suggest not to miss this fun story! I'll be looking for more from Ms. Ramos in the future.
Bethany Ramos is a chick lit author that is passionate about the fun, witty, and clever dynamic that can be found in a good chick lit novel. Her chick lit novel 5 Stages of Grief was published by Black Opal Books in 2011. Her second chick lit novel Adventure to Love was published by Soul Mate Publishing in 2013. She has also written a children’s book called Lions Can’t Eat Spaghetti that is under contract to be published through 4RV Publishing in 2015.
Bethany works as Editor in Chief for Naturally Healthy Publications, as well as a freelance ghostwriter through Elance.com. She also co-owns her own website with her husband at The Coffee Bump. Bethany can be reached for further information about her writing services at bethany_ramos83[at]yahoo[dot]com or follow her on Twitter.