Prologue

This wasn’t how I wanted to end up. I had plans, and none of them included hosting a ridiculous show designed to wreak havoc on relationships. Yet, here I was, a fake grin plastered on my face, listening to some overly cheerful intern named Gibby gush on and on about the lucky couples I was going to help. Help? Ha. Destroy was more like it.

There were six of the ‘lucky’ couples. Twelve people who were putting their trust in me. Twelve people who would hate me in a month’s time. I should be bothered by this, yet oddly enough I’m not. My biggest concern is how did I get here? How did someone like me end up hosting this ridiculous show? I’m Dr. Love for crying out loud. I write books that change lives. I host seminars that teach people how to love themselves in order to love others. I am a relationship guru. At least I was. Now, I am nothing more than a washed up has been too afraid of fading into nothing. The fear is what prompted me into taking this job as host to the monstrosity that is known as True Love.

I lean back in the cushy black leather chair that set at the head of a long conference table. The other eleven seats were occupied by the various people who would assist in assuring that True Love became a hit. Of course it would be a hit. People loved nothing more than watching other people’s misery, and this show would give them plenty to watch.

My gaze is drawn towards the plasma screen on the wall. Large, blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes stare back at me. The camera loved those eyes almost as much it loved the dark haired woman’s sultry face.

“So, what exactly is it you want me to say?” Her gaze narrow a bit, her full lower lip tucks between her white teeth. A low murmur has a smile spreading across her lips moments later. “Oh. Right. Okay, well Jordan and I met six years ago. I was in college at the time. Hotel management, of all things. Anyways, I needed a job, he needed a waitress. We started working together and one thing kinda led to another and here we are.” Another fabulous grin, this time enhanced by twin dimples. Her voluptuous body leans back a bit in the simple gray blue and metal chair she sat in. She wrinkles her brow a bit as another question is murmured. “Oh. That’s easy. Jordan’s an ass.” She laughs at whatever the questioner says, shaking her head. “Just that. He’s an ass. Most of the time I can’t stand him. He’s always making these lewd comments about other women. Like I want my boyfriend to remark on some blonde ding bat’s big boobs or how cute the little red head is at the end of the bar. I’m his girlfriend, not his buddy.” Her lovely face grows serious, the thick lashes lowering over her gaze. “I want him to see me. Just me.”

From the corner of my eye I can see Gibby raise the remote. Seconds later the woman’s sad expression is froze on the screen. “Bianca Delgado.” Gibby’s chirpy voice puts a name with the face. “She works as a bar tender for her boyfriend, Jordan Sloan. He owns this night club called The Zone. And he really is an ass!”

I murmur some nonsense about not making assumptions until we had heard Jordan’s side of things. It was a load of crap, having to sit through these videos, listening to these people droll on about what is wrong in the relationship. The question they should have all been asked was why do you think a reality show is going to help your relationship?

Jordan Sloan oozed sex appeal. I’m secure enough in my manhood to admit that. Women were going to love him. It was the blonde hair that was intentionally messy and smoky blue eyes. The muscular six foot five frame didn’t hurt either. Nor did the husky voice.

“What can I say, I love women. And they love me.” This should have ruined his sex appeal, instead it added to it. “I can’t help that I appreciate the female form.” A quick wiggle of his brows suggested that he did more than appreciate. “Bianca? Oh Bianca’s great. Real great. Can’t imagine life without her.” The questioner asked a question. The cockiness seemed to leave him, being replaced by a confused look. “Why would I worry about her leaving? I love her. She knows that.”

Gibby and Bianca were both wrong. The man wasn’t an ass, he was just a clueless moron. One whose mind I would love picking apart. Men like Jordan Sloan, the one’s who seemed so simple, were usually the one’s who had the deep rooted issues that needed tending too.

“Kyle Winston . He’s this real estate agent whose getting big. Mostly because of his girlfriend, Bree Daniels. She’s the latest cover girl for Holly Would underwear.”

A chuckle almost slips past my lips as I watch Gibby’s face wrinkle up. It reminds me a great deal of my neighbor’s Shar Pei when it is constipated. It wasn’t a pretty look. Nor was the man who had just came on the screen. Oh don’t get me wrong he isn’t hideous. Quite the opposite. He wasn’t as handsome as Jordan; his nose was a tad bit too large, but the unruly dark curls and little boy blue eyes more than made up for it.

“I’m one of those people who believes in destiny. There is no fighting it. We just have to accept it. Bree…” He frowns. “Bree doesn’t want to accept that she’s destined to look pretty. She has this idea that she can be more.” His frown deepens as he leans forward a bit, struggling to hear the question being asked of him. “That’s not how it is at all. If Bree had the capacity to make it as a teacher I would support her. She doesn’t though. She has this reading problem. Kinda slow, know what I mean? She does great as a model. It’s her destiny. She should just accept it.”

I yank the remote free of Gibby’s grasp. Now this one was an ass. An ass of the worse sort. He had the kind of face most people trusted. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I would take great pleasure in helping the lovely Bree see him for what he is. She truly was lovely. All golden blonde curls, violet colored eyes, and a sexy body poured into a tiny red dress that she appeared to be uncomfortable in.

 “I met Kyle in high school. He was my best friend. I’m not sure when that changed. Just that one day it did.” Her face lights up. “He’s really a great guy. He’s always been so supportive.”

Poor girl. Talk about living in denial. I grit my teeth as she gushes some more about how wonderful and supportive Kyle was. I almost let out a sigh of relief when she was replaced by a smaller blonde with huge green eyes. And then the other blonde started speaking. If it was at all possible, Miss Robyn Green was even more in denial than Bree.

“Danny and I really shouldn’t even be here. We’re that perfect couple everyone envies.” A small, almost insipid smile tips the corners of her lips. One small hand raises to adjust the slender olive green headband that holds her hair off her face. “We thought the show might be fun, though. Help us grow even closer.” Another small smile. “I’m hoping we will be able to show the other couples what a real relationship looks like.”

Watching her was like watching a documentary from Stepford. Either the girl really believed they were this amazing couple or she was trying to convince herself. My money is on the second one. I don’t bother watching her other half, a Danny Macomber who is a vet. The man just looked boring. As was the woman who followed him. Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm. Big yawn. Now Rebecca’s other half, a high school football coach named Will Hansen, was another one who would keep the viewers tuning in. For one thing he almost topped Jordan in the looks department, and for another he was actually a nice guy.

“I look at life the same way I do football. It’s all about team work. It can’t be about one person. It has to be about the team.” A dimpled grin turns an already adorable face into one that women would sigh over. “I try to apply that to my relationship with Rebecca, but I’m not quite sure she understands that concept. She has this habit of making everything about her. And when it isn’t about her she finds a way to turn it towards her. I love her, I’m just not sure how much longer that love can hold out if she doesn’t meet me in the middle. I’m hoping this show will help her do that. If not, well…” He shrugs. There is a sadness to his expression.

Rebecca wouldn’t meet him the middle. Ten seconds of listening to her whine had clued me into that. She had all the classic signs of being narcissistic. She would be fun to break, and break her I shall.

I sit up a bit straighter in my chair as a bombshell of a red head giggles. “Kristy Hartman,” Gibby supplies. I nod, listening and watching intently. At first you think this girl is nothing but a pretty face and yards of flame colored hair. Then she starts talking about life and what she wants from it. Oddly enough she doesn’t say anything about her relationship with Kurry Jamison, a rather suave looking fellow who reminded me a bit of Patrick Dempsey.

“I have goals. Very definite goals. I want to be a lawyer, you see. Not just any lawyer but a children’s advocate. There are too many kids out there who don’t have a voice. I want to be that voice. I’m going to be that voice.” Coppery hair ripples as she tosses her head back after being questioned. “Kurry…well Kurry is Kurry.” 

 I recline back, not really interested in what Kurry had to say or the last couple. It was nothing personal. My mind was slowly slipping back to how pathetic I have become…