After the U.S. president-elect dies during sex with a hooker at the high-class residence where Emma Jamison is working as a butler, her world falls apart. Fleeing the premises in a state of undress, Emma gets tabbed by the media as the hooker involved, which she isn't, and is further victimized by a Secret Service coverup. Broke and disgraced, she takes a housekeeping job at her grandmother's retirement home in the small town of Chartreuse, La., where she's determined to lead an obscure and blameless life. But Emma hasn't counted on her outrageous grandmother's sexual shenanigans with a handsome Alzheimer's patient; on her own attraction to the man's grandson, local district attorney Max Duval; or on an ambitious young reporter dogging her trail. Despite the saucy premise, Wells's (The Babe Magnet) madcap and enjoyable romantic comedy is only mildly spicy. (Feb.)Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Between the Sheetsby Robin Wells
How do you have a life when everyone in America thinks you gave the president-elect a fatal heart attack during an illicit sex romp?
Emma Jamison never thought she'd have to answer that question, but here she is, smack dab in the middle of a political scandal that would make Monica Lewinsky blush. Trouble is, nobody believes that Emma wasn't the call-girl who… See more details below
How do you have a life when everyone in America thinks you gave the president-elect a fatal heart attack during an illicit sex romp?
Emma Jamison never thought she'd have to answer that question, but here she is, smack dab in the middle of a political scandal that would make Monica Lewinsky blush. Trouble is, nobody believes that Emma wasn't the call-girl who killed the president-to-be with her, uh, carnal skills.
So Emma packs up and moves to small-town Chartreuse, LA, to escape her infamy and to start over. But when her grandmother starts dating the grandfather of district attorney Max Duval, the quiet life she was seeking blows up in smoke.
When professional butler Emma Jamison is mistakenly identified as the call girl who was with the president-elect when he died of a heart attack, she moves to tiny Chartreuse, LA, to ride out the scandal and start over. But being seen with Max Duval, the hunky DA who is in a tough, mud-slinging election campaign, is no way to keep a low profile, especially with a persistent tabloid reporter on the loose. When their elderly grandparents, who live at the retirement home that Emma manages, decide to have a fling, the media frenzy begins. Both tenderly funny and outright hilarious, this sexy, lively romp gently touches on some serious issues but highlights romance and is enhanced by delightful, sometimes confused seniors who, in many ways, are the stars of the book. Wells (The Babe Magnet) lives near New Orleans.
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Between the Sheets
By Robin Wells Forever
Copyright © 2008
All right reserved.
Chapter One B.C. (Before Catastrophe)
The call girl's naked thigh made a sucking sound on the limousine's black leather upholstery as she scooted her miniskirted bottom closer to President-Elect Ferguson. "You're a lot handsomer in person than you are on TV," she purred.
Oh, give me a break, thought Special Agent Allen Gromstedt as he peered in the limo's rear-view mirror and saw the brunette press a silicone-stuffed breast against the gray-haired man's arm. With his huge honker and flabby jowls, Ferguson was about as handsome as a scabbed knee.
Gromstedt turned his attention back to the traffic on St. Charles Avenue and tried to ignore the couple in the rear of the limo, but their presence was inescapable. The hothouse scent of the woman's perfume wended its way through the lowered partition to the front seat. It was expensive perfume, not the drugstore stuff like Gromstedt's wife wore. Hell, it ought to be expensive, he thought as he steered around a double-parked utility truck. For three hundred dollars an hour, she ought to smell like gold bullion.
"You're taller than I thought you were." The woman's hand squeezed the old man's bicep through the jacket of his dark navy wool suit. "Ooh-and bigger, too. I just lo-o-o-ve big men. I bet you're big all over."
Oh, brother. Gromstedt braked for a red light at the Napoleon Street intersection and stared straight through the windshield, deliberately avoiding eye contact with John Stokes, the dark-haired agent seated beside him. The Secret Service had trained them to act as if they didn't see or hear any of their VIPs' conversations, but this was so cheesy that Gromstedt was afraid he couldn't look at Stokes without accidentally smirking or rolling his eyes.
It wasn't like he hadn't been warned. Stokes had worked the Ferguson detail during the campaign, and he'd given Gromstedt all the scoop on the plane flight from D.C. to New Orleans that morning.
"The old man keeps the partition rolled down because he likes to show off his lady-killer prowess," he'd told him. "He thinks he's impressing us or something."
To Gromstedt's way of thinking, it didn't count as prowess if the woman was bought and paid for, and all of Ferguson's were.
"He says it's not adultery if he hires them," Stokes had explained. "He says if he pays for it, it's just a business transaction."
Gromstedt could imagine how well that logic would go over with Mrs. Ferguson. But then, if he were married to the hatchet-faced old broad, he might look for ways around the fine print, too. The image of his own wife flitted through his mind. He'd hit the jackpot when he'd married Sara, that was for sure. Twenty-two years of marriage, and he'd never once been tempted to stray.
"What Ferguson does is his own business, I guess," Gromstedt had replied.
"It's kinda our business, too."
Something in Stokes's voice had made Gromstedt cut him a sharp look.
"What do you mean?"
"It's our job to get him the girl."
"Well, he can't just go out and hire one himself," Stokes had said.
The light changed. Gromstedt lifted his foot from the brake and eased it onto the gas. This whole call girl thing made him uneasy, but it wasn't the old man's ethics that bothered him. It wasn't even his own.
It was the idea of getting caught. He had twenty years invested with the Secret Service, not to mention a wife, two kids in college, and a mortgage. He couldn't afford to get busted for hiring a hooker.
Stokes was the one who'd handled the actual hiring transaction, but Gromstedt was driving the limo, so he was in just as deep. They'd picked her up at the Hyton Hotel on Canal Street an hour earlier as Ferguson addressed a national conference of teachers, then made her hide under a tarp in the far back of the limo as Ferguson climbed in.
"Does agency brass know about this?" Gromstedt had asked Stokes.
"And they're okay with it?"
"Let's put it this way-our job is protecting Ferguson's physical safety, right?"
"Well, he's a hell of a lot safer with a call girl who gets into the car thinking I'm her john for the evening than he'd be with a gal who knows she's about to do the next president. Left to his own devices, he could end up with a kamikaze terrorist with anthrax in her twat."
Stokes had a point. "So ... the agency will back us up if this ever gets out?"
"Hell, no. They'll hang us out to dry."
Stokes had shrugged. "It's part of the job. You want the plum assignments, you gotta expect a few pits."
Gromstedt glanced in the rear-view mirror again. The woman was whispering something in Ferguson's ear.
The old man laughed and stroked her thigh under her short black skirt. "How about cameras, sugar?" he murmured. "You like doing it on video?"
"Ooh," she breathed. "Just the thought makes me hot."
Just the thought makes me gag. Stokes had warned him about this, too. Apparently the old man loved to make tapes of himself in the sack.
"Is he crazy?" Gromstedt had asked. "Man, if one of those tapes got in the wrong hands-"
"I know, I know. But that's how it is with these power dudes-the higher they climb, the more invincible they think they are."
It was true. Gromstedt had driven enough heads of state, visiting dignitaries, and vice presidents over the years to know they could behave with surprising carelessness.
"Nah. But Murphy did. Said he nearly puked. Apparently the old man keeps the camera primarily trained on himself."
Oh, boy. It was going to be a long four years, what with hookers and videos and the old man popping Viagra like peanuts.
"I don't think I got your name," Ferguson said to the call girl.
"Amber," the woman replied.
"Pretty name for a pretty lady."
And about as likely to be real as her oversized boobs, Gromstedt thought, glancing in the rear-view mirror again. As far as call girls went, though, she wasn't half bad. She fit the prototype Stokes had said Ferguson preferred-slender build, big rack, shoulder-length straight brown hair.
The old brownstone mansion that housed the public library loomed on the left. Recognizing the landmark, Gromstedt shifted to the left lane. A block later, he caught sight of an enormous white-columned mansion. This was it-the Mullendorf estate. Gromstedt had stopped by earlier to familiarize himself with the route and to scope out any potential hazards.
He braked for a left turn and punched a button on his headset phone. "Eagle One on the approach."
"Got you spotted," came the reply. "We'll open the gate after the streetcar passes."
A pea-green and brick-red streetcar rattled down the center median, the windows brightly lit, the bow of a Christmas wreath flapping in the damp New Orleans air. He was glad to see the streetcar up and running; from what he'd heard, it had been out of commission for a year and a half after Hurricane Katrina. As soon as the streetcar cleared the intersection, Gromstedt steered onto an oaklined side street. Right on cue, the electronic iron gate beside the mansion swung open.
"Ooh, this place is beautiful!" the call girl squealed as Gromstedt guided the limo past the agents at the entrance and up the narrow brick-paved drive. "Is it yours?"
"No, sugar," Ferguson said. "It belongs to a friend of mine."
"Do you think he might want a girl? Because if he does, I have a friend who's not busy tonight, and-"
Ferguson chortled. "I'm sure he'd appreciate the thought, but my pal's out of town."
"And he's letting you stay at his place? Must be a good friend."
No kidding. Mullendorf had raised more than four million dollars for Ferguson's campaign. But then, the tycoon probably stood to make a hundred times that in defense contracts or some such. None of these rich guys ever gave away anything that didn't somehow end up back in their pockets in spades.
Gromstedt carefully steered the limo around a silver Saturn LS parked on the side of the narrow drive and spotted Agent Bill Clarkson just inside the open warehousesized garage. After Clarkson flashed the prearranged "all clear" signal, Gromstedt slowly drove inside and killed the engine.
The call girl reached for the car door's handle as the hangar-sized garage door began to rumble down.
"Slow down there, sugar," Ferguson told her. "We've got to wait till the garage door's down. Never know when a photographer is lurking in the bushes." He patted her thigh and leered. "Besides, a pretty little lady like you should never have to open a car door herself."
The woman giggled. "Ooh, you're such a gentleman. You really know how to treat a lady."
Ferguson chuckled. "I sure do, sugar. I sure as hell do."
Oh, Christ-I hope you wait until you get to the room before you try to prove it. Keeping his expression wooden, Gromstedt climbed out, waited until the garage door thudded closed, then opened the limo's back door. The woman's legs, long and slender, stretched out through the opening. The rest of her followed, her black skirt hitched high enough to reveal scant red panties. Ferguson struggled out behind her, breathing hard.
"This way, sir." Agent Clarkson opened the door to the residence. "The stairs are to your right."
Ferguson wrapped an arm around the woman and looked at Stokes. "Can you get us to my room without any of the help seeing us? Mullendorf's wife and my wife are close friends, and if word got back-"
"We've already taken care of it, sir, but I'll doublecheck." Stokes lifted his walkie-talkie. "Miller, are the domestics out of the way?"
"Affirmative," replied a gravelly voice through the receiver. "We sent everyone home but the butler, and she's with me in the front room. The back stairs are clear."
"Thanks." Ferguson put his arm around the call girl's waist and winked. "See you fellas in the morning."
Stokes closed the door to the house behind the presidentelect, then turned back to Clarkson. "Did he say the butler's a she?"
"Yeah," Clarkson said. "A good-looking one, too-and just Ferguson's type. Straight dark hair, big tits, slender build."
"Maybe he could have saved some money," Gromstedt joked.
"Nah. This girl's not that sort. Besides, he likes to pay, remember?"
"Yeah." Stokes exchanged an amused glance with Gromstedt. "It's not something we're likely to forget."
Fifteen minutes later
Thump-squeak. Thump-squeak. Thump-squeak. Thump-squeak.
The odd overhead noise made Emma Jamison pause in the middle of her refrigerator inventory and frown up at the crown-molded kitchen ceiling of the Mullendorf mansion. Please please please don't be a problem with the plumbing or the central air, she silently implored. She was responsible for ensuring that President-Elect Ferguson had an enjoyable stay, and there was nothing enjoyable about plumbing problems-especially not at eleven at night.
The noise subsided as abruptly as it had begun. Emma held her breath and listened for a moment, then blew out a relieved sigh. It was probably just air in the pipes or some other benign cause. The big old house had survived two centuries and Hurricane Katrina, so hopefully it would make it through one more night.
"Got any coffee?"
She turned from the open Sub-Zero to see a middleaged Secret Service agent saunter through the arched hallway of the enormous black-and-white kitchen. He wasn't a member of the advance team who'd been poring over the mansion for the past two days, so he had to be one of the six who'd arrived fifteen minutes earlier with President-Elect Ferguson. Emma usually had a good eye for faces, but these agents were so numerous and nondescript it was hard to keep them straight. The most notable thing about them-aside from their dark suits and ties-was their total lack of notability.
Except for this one. He was older than the others; his rust-colored hair was flecked with gray, and he had a slight paunch.
"Help yourself," Emma said, tilting her head toward an industrial-sized stainless-steel coffeemaker on the black granite countertop. "I just made five gallons."
"Five gallons, huh?" The man's face buckled into a smile as he crossed the room. "If I ration myself, that might just see me through the night."
What do you know, Emma thought. An agent with a sense of humor. She'd begun to think the government performed some kind of personality-extraction procedure on them all before they let them out in the field.
"I'm Allen Gromstedt," he said, reaching for one of the twelve white mugs lined up in two precise rows by the coffeemaker.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Emma Jamison."
She turned her attention back to the interior of the paneled refrigerator and finished comparing the chef's list of breakfast ingredients against the contents. Two gallons of two-percent milk-check. One pound unsalted butter-check. Sharp white cheddar-check. It was all there. She'd done the shopping herself, but she wanted to double-check, just to make sure.
It was the sort of behavior her psychiatrist ex-fiancé used to call neurotic, stemming from a lack of self-esteem. The thought of Derrick made her shoulders tense. Well, who wouldn't have self-esteem issues, after being engaged to a jealous two-timing liar who psychoanalyzed her every move?
Besides, Derrick had been wrong. Sure, she had a few issues, but she wasn't neurotic; she was meticulous and detail-oriented, which were good traits for a butler to have. And she wasn't all that lacking in self-esteem, either-at least, she hadn't been before Derrick. What she lacked was good judgment in men.
Well, never again, she thought, shutting the refrigerator door with a definitive thud. Never again would she be blinded by charm and good looks. The next time she fell for a man, it would be someone trusting and trustworthy who loved her just the way she was.
She turned to find Agent Gromstedt looking around the immense restaurant-grade kitchen. "This place isn't too shabby," he remarked.
For an enormous mansion furnished with priceless antiques and every convenience known to man, it wasn't too bad. She was tempted to say it aloud, but butlers never gossiped about their clients or commented on their belongings.
The agent put the coffee cup under the spout and lifted the spigot on the coffeemaker. "Do you live here?"
"No. I'm just working here temporarily."
He furrowed his brow. "I thought you were the butler."
"I am. I'm with a temporary butler service." She happened to own the service, but there was no need to get into that.
"No kidding." Agent Gromstedt shoveled three teaspoons of sugar in his cup. "How does that work?"
"Like any other temporary-employment service. Clients call when they need extra help."
His spoon clicked against the side of his cup as he stirred. "This might sound kind of ignorant, but what the heck do butlers do?"
"Manage households, basically. We handle things like hiring chefs and caterers, running errands, supervising the housekeeping staff, keeping the kitchen stocked. Whatever needs doing."
"So what's your assignment here?"
"Well, the Mullendorfs are out of town, so they hired me to open their home and make sure Mr. Ferguson has everything he needs."
His eyebrows rose. "Wow. Big responsibility, hosting the next president of the United States."
Yes, it was, and Emma was thrilled that she'd been entrusted with it. She'd worked for a lot of important people in her career, but the newly elected leader of the free world had to be the V-est of all VIPs.
"How'd you get a gig like this?" the agent asked, taking a tentative slurp of his coffee.
Emma opened a cabinet and pulled out a paper towel. "The Mullendorfs are regular clients," she explained, wiping some water off the countertop. "I manage their New Orleans home whenever they're gone, and I handle special projects when their live-in butler needs a hand." Which was pretty often. The Mullendorfs had repeatedly tried to hire Emma to replace him, but Emma liked the freedom of self-employment.
Besides, she made a good living-good enough that she'd recently bought a new car and a little gingerbreadtrimmed cottage on the edge of the Garden District. Her career was in terrific shape.
It was her personal life that sucked.
"I always thought butlers were stuffy old men in tails," the agent said.
Emma tossed the paper towel in the trash can under the sink. "That's the movie image. We come in all kinds of packages."
The agent leaned a hip against the counter and eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup. "Well, your package is a big improvement over the stereotype."
He wasn't coming on to her, exactly, but there was an element of masculine appreciation in his gaze that made Emma's hand flutter to the top button of her dress. Derrick used to say she was uncomfortable with her sexuality. Well, she wasn't; she was just uncomfortable with the way men looked at her chest. Ever since puberty, it had drawn an unwelcome amount of attention. It wasn't Dolly Parton?esque, but it was generous, and even though she wore clothes that downplayed it, like the tailored black coatdress she was wearing now, her bustline never escaped male notice.
Excerpted from Between the Sheets by Robin Wells Copyright © 2008 by Robin Wells. Excerpted by permission.
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She never thought she¿d find herself in the spotlight, virtually a household name. To go along with the notoriety though, come humiliation, rejection and contempt. Emma Jamison thought if she couldn¿t set the record straight, that she didn¿t sleep with president elect Ferguson causing him to die of a heart attack, her life would be hers again. But that wasn¿t to be. Instead, Emma escapes to her grandmother¿s hometown with the hope, slim as it is, that she could make an attempt to start over again. --- Emma¿s trying to make a place for herself at the Sunnyside Retirement Villa, where her grandmother is a resident. But that¿s becoming almost impossible as she¿s practically accosted at every turn or she¿s shunned by the town¿s citizens. One citizen holds promise, though. DA Max Duval. He¿s charming, handsome, funny, and off limits. She¿s a pariah and he¿s running for DA. To be seen with him in any capacity would be political suicide for him and put her back in the spotlight again. --- Grams has other ideas, though. She¿s found love (with Max¿s grandfather, Harold) and thinks Emma should, too. Grams escapades and advice (divine providence) cause much trouble for Emma and Max and ultimately throws them together. --- It¿s a tug of war. They want to be together, but she¿s still news worthy, and with a journalist intern with a chip on his shoulder shadowing both Emma and Max things quickly snowball out of control, often times hilariously and others with poignancy. --- If Emma¿s name can be cleared they may have a chance together, however it¿s becoming unlikely that the person who was really with president elect Ferguson will be found. Their chances of a life together get slimmer and slimmer as the election draws closer. If only divine providence were on their side. --- Between the Sheets is by turns touching and funny. Had it not been for Grams and Harold and the dynamic that they brought to the story, the outcome would have been an intense and dramatic instead of the uplifting and fun romance it is. Grams was flamboyant to say the least, but underneath was a compassionate and loving heart. I truly appreciated Ms. Wells making the senior citizens a part of the story not only in the capacity of grandparents to Emma and Max, but with their romance. --- Robin Wells has her keyboard on the pulse of the desires of the readers. Everything you could want in a romance is Between the Sheets.
Robin Wells writes about such great, funny, believable characters. I especially loved the older ones...they kept me laughing all the way through the book and made me wish they were my grandparents. I wait with eager anticipation for each of her books and I am never dissapointed. The heroine of this book, Emma Jamison, suddenly finds herself hounded by papparazzi and 'between the sheets' of all the tabloids even though she didn't do anything. You can really relate to everything Emma goes through, but just when things might get too heavy, Ms. Wells writes something laugh out loud funny.
No one believes Emma Jamison when she swears that she is just the butler at the Mulendoff estate and not the person who slept with the married president-elect Robert Ferguson when he died from a heart attack. Instead as she tries to reclaim her wrecked reputation she loses her business and her house. Emma takes a job in Chartreuse, Louisiana at the assisted living facility where her beloved grandmother lives even though the townsfolk like all of American assume she is the happy hooker. Max Duval meets Emma and is attracted to her, but believes she is guilty in spite of her insistence she is innocent. However Max plans to avoid the happy hooker as he is running for public office and she can only destroy his chances of winning especially since his opponent believes in negative campaigning. However, his avoidance strategy goes astray when her grandmother and his grandfather apparently become lovers that forces him to spend time with irresistible Emma as he considers becoming the second politician he believes she slept with. --- BETWEEN THE SHEETS is a fascinating contemporary romance starring a likable lead character whose reputation is ruined yet she keeps her head up high. Although insisting that she was not the hooker, Emma is in many ways is like Monica Wolinsky who has kept her head high and has achieved plenty of earned success since her fifteen minutes of notoriety fame. The grandparents and Max add strength to a refreshing interesting character study starring a maligned yet argent heroine who holds her head up in spite of media and public ridicule 'you go Monica ¿ you earned it'. --- Harriet Klausner
What a fun book Between the Sheets by Robin Wells was. I borrowed this book from my mother and it was a lovely romance. Published in 2008, this was a character driven read. The main character Emma Jamison, had it all together. She was orderly, owned her own business, provided housekeeping services to high profile clientele, and in the blink of an eye, lost her reputation and her business, all because she was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Can you relate to a life altering change in the blink of an eye? I certainly can. In attempts to cleanse her reputation, she had spent her savings in vain. She finally decided it was time to re-invent herself and decided to move to Chartreuse, Louisiana. Her grandmother had signed over her home to Emma and moved into the Sunnyside Retirement Center. Surely a small town would be just the ticket to re-invent herself. But small towns are notorious for bringing unwanted scandal front and center and Emma was not welcomed into the small town's folds. Emma's supportive cast consisted of her Grandmother, Dorothy, Dorothy's boyfriend, Harold Duval, his grandson, Max Duval and new found friend Katie. Her aggravating nemesis was journalist, Louis Anderson, who this reader loved to hate! Dorothy was always confusing her wise sayings and Emma always corrected her. Harold was a dementia patient who was in and out of reality but he was also a very gentle and sweet old man. Max was a chunk as Dorothy would say meaning hunk and he found Emma to be more than desirable. And Katie, was an open minded woman who could accept Emma for what she actually was. Louis, the journalist, didn't care what the truth was...he thrived on notoriety and perceptions; his desire was to sell it big and become famous. The story was fun, romantic and hilarious in parts. I laughed so hard at the antics of the old folks from Sunnyside Retirement Center that I couldn't breathe. I also writhed with frustration over the aggravating and persistant journalist. But overall, I enjoyed the book created by Wells and it will be a favorite for a long time to come...humorous, feisty, fun, and the quirkiest of characters that were believable and fun.
This was a good read. From the beginning through the end it keeps you hooked. You fall in love with the hero right from the start and I absolutely LOVED the grandparents being in the story.. really cute side! I would recommend this one!
When I first saw this book in NetGalley I loved the cover. But not only that, the synopsis sounded really interesting. In addition to that, the title sounded really good, so before I knew it I had requested the book and looking forward to reading it. There's such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Emma Jamison learned that the hard way as she was tending to a job, which happened to include the president-elect. She was working as a butler in the house the president-elect had chosen to stay in to take care of an itch really, when he gets overexcited and has a heart attack. Emma was rushed out the door as the Secret Service took control of things, which put her in the spotlight of the media. It didn't help that a button of hers had been cut off and she was assumed to be the woman that overexcited the president-elect onto his death. Since then, people have been treating her accordingly, as the slut who slept with a married man and killed him. Some looked at her with disdain, others with sexual interest. Everyone wanted photos, interviews, and scoops. Her life had turned into a living hell in the span of a few months that she moved into a small town to live next to her grandmother, hoping it would help things blow over. It didn't. To make matters worse, she's interested in a man who's running for elections as the new D.A, on top of that her grandmother and his grandfather are having an affair, which only adds more havoc to her life. Can she clear her name? Maybe find friends in this trying time and maybe even a family? I felt so bad for Emma. I mean talk about a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The poor girl's life is turned upside down because of something she didn't do, over someone she hadn't even seen. It's such an awful feeling to be ostracized and have no one on your side. Everyone everywhere giving you the looks. I did feel for her. I enjoyed how Max finally believed her and opted to help her clear her name - even if it was going to cost him his campaign. I also liked how friendly Katie was to her, and how she helped her fit in. I always found a specific charm in small towns, and even though it didn't start that way with Emma, it did eventually end up so. I can't imagine how awful it might be for your only family not to remember you, which is what Max must have felt with his grandfather having Alzheimer's. But I am happy Harold, found Dorothy at least, even in his trying time she seemed to help him with his illness, leaving him notes and reminds him of stuff, it was so sweet! Together they were hilarious though. I enjoyed this book immensely and loved the writing. It was clever, and funny. I also liked the storyline and the characters. They all held a great role and it added to the overall effect. Rating: 4/5
My Review: A+ Oh wow, this was such an amazing story, but what made it so good was the fact that Emma could be you or me. She was a normal person living a normal life, even if she was a slight over-achiever, but one simple event ruined everything. She became the most infamous person in America and everything about her life fell apart and she did not do a single thing that she was accused of, but she never got her trial to prove that. Emma had her own, very successful, business providing temporary butler service for the rich and powerful. She was called into service by some regular customers who needed her to prep their house for the president-elect, while they were out of town. She was simply doing her job down in the kitchen accompanied by the Secret Service...never even saw the man in residence (the president-elect). She had a button pop off her dress and had gone to the restroom off the kitchen to repair it. The next thing she knew the secret service were in a panic telling her she had to get out of the house immediately, that there's an emergency. With visions of bombs and house explosions, she ran out of the house, clutching her unbuttoned dress. Well the emergency was that the president elect died of a heart-attack while having sex with the hooker he hired. A paparazzi caught a photo of her fleeing the scene half undressed and everyone assumed that she was the one who killed the president elect via adulterous sex. Suddenly Emma found herself the butt of every late night comedian and the focus of every newspaper, magazine, and tabloid in America. She lost her business, her house, her reputation...everything. She. Never. Even. Met. The. Guy. Can you imagine?? This is the stuff of nightmares, but it makes such a good story to read! I loved Emma. I honestly don't know how she kept on without becoming an alcoholic or becoming suicidal, but she did. She relocated to her grandmother's hometown and has taken over running the housekeeping services at the retirement community. She's constantly being confronted by unpleasant people and opinions and she continues to put forward a pleasant face. She even manages to constantly help others. She honestly is a truly nice person who just wants to be left alone and do her job. And then she meets Max, the state DA, when he rescues her when she is being harassed at a convenience store. Like the rest of the world, he doesn't believe her protestations about the events with the president-elect. But even with that poor opinion of her, he still feels an incredible draw to her. As he gets to know her, he begins to realize that things with the sordid tale just don't make sense. This is a guy whose entire life is about freeing those who've been unjustly accused so when he starts to realize that something is off about the entire story, he attacks the issue head-on...although he doesn't let Emma know that he's investigating the event. This is such a good book!!! I loved every single thing about the story and the characters. There are side-stories with Emma and Max's grandparents and their own romance within the retirement community. Emma's grandmother is a character...with all the eccentricities implied with that sentence...she's a hoot. I loved Emma and felt so badly for everything that she goes through. I loved Max and his passion, although I really wanted him to use more caution. I cheered for the old-folks from the retirement village and booed many of the people from this close-minded
The plot was unrealistic, but I liked it anyway.