Runaway Groom [Ethma]

2

EMMA

"I don't think I can do this." I say.

"Of course you can. You can do anything."

I'd roll my eyes at the quintessential mom comment, but my stomach's too busy doing the rolling.

"No, like for real...I don't think I can make myself go out there." I take a sip of flavored seltzer, hoping it'll settle my stomach.

"Emma. Sweetie," my mom coos into the phone. "He'll love you. Everyone does."

I wrinkle my nose. "Did you get some self-help book on mother/daughter relationships or something? You're sounding very Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul."

"Amanda told me you were freaking out. I wanted to be prepared."

I hear a rustle of paper and imagine a whole slew of motivational quotes in her messy handwriting.

"Amanda should be the one freaking out," I mutter. "She got me into this situation."

"This situation," of course, being the fact that any minute now the hammer will slam down on the final nail in my dignity's coffin.

I, Emma Chamberlain , resourceful, no-nonsense business owner, am about to become a contestant on Jilted, a ridiculous TV show in which I and twenty-four other women compete to be the bride of Ethan Dolan.

Ethan Dolan, people.

When I agreed to go to the audition it was with the assumption that it'd be some balding loser whose last chance of finding a future bride and baby mama was having a bunch of women literally delivered to him. In my wildest dream, I'd never imagined that the Runaway Groom to be "won" was the hottest name—and body—in Hollywood.

Sorry, did I say wildest dream?

I meant worst nightmare.

I have about as much use for a diva actor as I do for a third tit.

My only reason for doing this show in the first place is to rummage up some free publicity for my company, Atellier.

And even that came only after a prosecco-fueled "brainstorming" session. I don't think Amanda (BFF and co-founder) or I ever thought I'd actually make it through the initial selection process.

Yet here I am, expected to woo Ethan Dolan in two minutes if I want to get to the Maui round.

Which I'm not sure I do.

"Did you decide on the black dress or the red?" Mom asks, as though that's the pivotal question here.

I glance down at my jeans and A white tank top.

"Umm..."

"Oh, honey, no. You're wearing one of your Pieces?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, that's the whole reason I'm here," I point out.

The company's doing well—really well. But I want to do better than well. I want us to go from SoCal boutique to household name.

The thing is, you can't sell the perfect clothes if people don't see them.

You have to see it.

And the reality-TV-obsessed Amanda had the half-brilliant, half-crazy insight that there's no better way to get our T-shirts in front of the almost entirely female demographic of the reality TV show Jilted than by having one of the contestants wear them.

Factor in that I live in San Diego, which is just a couple of hours' drive from the Los Angeles auditions for the show...and somehow I got talked into auditioning, since Amanda herself is a happily married mother.