A Blockbuster Proposal
The Trouble with Dating an Actor
Lucy McConnell
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Free Destination Billionaire Romance
Sassy Strawberry Ice Cream
Also by Lucy McConnell
About the Author
Ice Cream & Invitation
We are thrilled to bring you the Vintage Romance Series filled with contemporary retellings of some of your favorite classic novels and chick flicks. To celebrate, we’ve created custom ice cream flavors for each book. You can find the recipe to accompany “A Blockbuster Proposal: The Trouble with Dating an Actor”
Sassy Strawberry
at the back of the book.
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A Blockbuster Proposal: The Trouble with Dating an Actor
A Vintage Romance
An irresistible contemporary romance about a not-so-humble cop who splits his raffle ticket with an unlucky waitress and the actor who falls in love with her.
Allie Laurel Gray is unlucky in life and in love—and she’s okay with that. You can’t change destiny, right?
But a chance meeting with Mark Dubois, the blockbuster actor with a cleft chin and kind heart, is like something out of a movie. Mark is everything Allie’s ever wanted and the exact kind of man she can’t have.
Allie is going to have to take her destiny into her own hands to outwit her bad luck and finally win in love.
Introduction
This story is mostly fiction.
I say mostly because there are waitresses in the world, and there are actors, and there are police officers; there are charities and raffles and there is most definitely a city called Atlanta, Georgia.
Knowing that there’s a grain of truth in the bucket, it’s probable that you could find a waitress in Atlanta, Georgia, who has terrible luck. The kind of luck that sends a seventeen-year-old girl running into the arms of a scam artist to escape her verbally abusive father. Some would blame God, or their mother, or the presidential election for the horrible chain of events that led to Allie Laurel Gray losing her apartment, her savings, and her innocence.
However, Allie never looked to place blame. Instead, Allie looked for a job. And she found one at the Star Café, where the owner was a barking tightwad, the tips were decent, and her co-workers were kind.
And that is where our story begins: on a humid March day when a police officer made a promise.
Chapter 1
“Hello, officers. What’ll it be today?” asked Allie, searching for a pen so she could take down their order. She usually tucked it behind her ear but came up empty. Her apron pocket was bare. She patted her hair—nope.
“It’s in your… ahem.” The cop on the right pointed to her chest as he grinned.
Allie’s cheeks flamed as she snatched the pen from between two buttons. It wasn’t like she put it there to draw attention to her… her… Especially not the attention of this guy. The cop was tall and lanky with hands the size of dinner plates and ears to match. He had that predatory feel of a guy who enjoyed perusing the meat market. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
“No problem.” He grinned at his partner. “And you thought this would be a boring lunch.”
“It’s never boring with you around, George,” replied his partner, a middle aged, pot-bellied guy with a shiny head and a pair of teddy bear eyes. Leaning his forearms on the table, he pointed to George. “This guy’s always got a story. Some of the things he’s seen working nights would make your toenails curl.”
“Sounds fascinating.” Allie monotone. “If you’re not ready, I can come back.”
“A meatball sandwich,” said George with a note of desperation.
Desperate for food or desperate to keep her around so he could stare at her chest a little longer? Allie raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yep. I haven’t had a good meatball sandwich in years.”
“Well, you’re not about to get one now.” She jotted the information down and turned to the other cop. “And for you?”
“I think I’ll stick to a burger and fries, no onions. And can we get a couple coffees?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back with those.” The lunch rush hadn’t come through yet so Allie entered their order and took their coffee back right away.
“Thanks, sugar.” George winked.
Allie crossed her arms. The last man to call her sugar had used her good name to create a very bad credit score. Reed, her ex-husband—thank the heavens for that ex—said all the right things and did all the wrong ones. No one had the right to call her sugar. “I’m not your sugar so you can just—”
“Whoa there—I was asking for sugar. For my coffee.” George held up his cup, his eyes wide with innocence.
“Oh.” Allie blinked wondering if she’d misread George from the start. There goes my tip. “Sorry, I’ve had a really bad day and—”
“I don’t need your life story, just the sugar.” George’s flirtatious behavior had disappeared the moment she glared daggers. If that was the worst thing that came from her little outburst she’d get off lucky.
Since when had luck ever been on her side?
“Allie,” called the café owner, William from his perch behind the register. “Get your behind over here.”
Gritting her teeth, Allie silently reviewed the reasons she needed this job. The Star Café always had a table open, usually one of Allie’s, but the locals liked the old-timie vinyl booths and spinning stools at the counter. A cup of coffee was cheep, the food was good and greasy, and the gravy was pretty darn good. Black and white checkered tiles covered the floor and faded posters of Elvis Presley, Tanya Tucker, Stevie Wonder, and Hank Williams, smiled from behind shiny chrome and glass frames. The job wasn’t much, but for a woman who barely had a high school diploma and carried a large amount of debt, it was enough. Right now, enough was good enough to get her through. “Yes?”
“Stop harassing the customers.” He waved his hand, indicating the empty booths. “I’d like to have a few of them come back once in a while.”
Then you should stop charging an extra two dollars for gravy on grits. “I’ll work that.” Allie forced her lips apart in an attempt at a smile.
“See that you do.” He shuffled a couple of papers.
Out of instinct, Allie didn’t move. Her dad had hated it when she left before he’d gotten every last mean thought off his mind. Since they were the only thoughts he had, she was grateful he wasn’t that smart of a man. William had more going on upstairs but his focus was profits.
“Look at this ticket, Allie. What does it say?” he asked.
She didn’t have to lean in or even squint to know what the ticket was for. “Two bowls of soup and a half sandwich.”
“Seventeen dollars’ worth of food walked out of here without paying and it’s coming out of your paycheck, dearie.”
Allie felt the deduction as if it had come from her spleen. “That’s not fair—it wasn’t my fault they snuck out.”
Will smacked his palm on the c
ounter. “Your ticket—your fault.” Will smacked his palm on the counter.
She narrowed her eyes. There was no use arguing with him. Sure, taking the money out of her pay was illegal wage deduction but she wasn’t in a position to put up a fight. Allie turned on her heel to walk away with her chin up.
William’s voice rattled across the café following her like a bad stench. “Bring me a fresh coffee, this one’s gone cold.”
“Like his heart,” Allie murmured to Selina, the other waitress on duty.
Selina waved to let William know she’d heard him and then poured his coffee. “Allow me.” Her eyes twinkled as she deftly switched the decaf with regular. “Let him stay up at night. I’ll be sleeping like a baby.”
Allie chuckled.
She picked up the cops’ order and headed to their table. “Here you go fellas. I hope you enjoy your meatball sandwich.” She set the plate down in front of George just as his phone beeped.
He checked it quickly. “Check please.”
“Gotta go?” asked his partner.
“Yep.”
Allie watched their little exchange. “I’ve got it right here.” She held her ground. She couldn’t afford to pay for two meals in one day.
“Your turn for the check.” The partner nodded to George.
“Right.” He glanced at the bill and fished a twenty out of his wallet. “Oh no.”
“What?” Allie brought her hand to her hip. “Don’t tell me—you don’t have enough.”
“No, I have the check. I just don’t have enough for a tip.”
She sighed, her shoulders hunching forward. “Have a nice day officers.” With a half-smile and a shaking hand, she made her way to the counter where she dropped off the bill and the twenty for William to enter into the system. He liked to do each one himself to make sure they weren’t discounting items behind his back.
She made it behind the counter before she noticed George behind her blocking her in. Her breath came in shallow gulps—she hated being cornered. “Do you need something?”
“A to-go box.”
“Right.” They were under the coffee maker. “Here you go. Anything else?”
George shuffled his feet. A mighty accomplishment considering the size of them. It was a good thing he wasn’t hairy—he’d be mistaken for a sasquatch. “Look, I feel bad about not leaving a tip. I have money in my PayPal account. Can I send it that way?”
“I don’t accept PayPal.” She smirked. Going around him, she refilled coffee cups in the dining area.
“I know. I’ll donate it to your favorite charity.” He held his phone up. “Just tell me where to send it.”
Allie considered him. Last week a group of kids had shown up and painted over the graphitti on the side of the apartment building next door. What did their shirts say? “Teens on Target.” Let them have the five bucks. A warm feeling spread over her. At least something good would come out of this day.
George did a quick search on his phone. “I can’t find out how to donate to them but there’s a raffle. If you win you get to have lunch with Beau Dubois, Beau Aiken and—holy cow! Anthony Green.”
The names were vaguely familiar to Allie. She leaned in to glance over George’s phone and saw pictures of the two actors and the baseball star. That’s right. Anthony green played for the Braves. Beau Aiken was always in the gossip rags at the grocery store. Beau Dubois … he’d done a series of spy movies with lots of hand-to-hand combat, electronic gear, and espionage. Reed had taken her to see one about six months before he took off with her credit card and that dancer. She’d liked the movies—Beau Dubois was pretty nice to look at for hours on end.
“I’ll make you a deal,” said George, leaning into her.
Rolling her eyes, Allie stepped back and then around the counter. The more distance between them the better. “What?”
“If you win, we go together.”
“You can go by yourself.” She could care less about having lunch with some uppity Hollywood heartthrobs and a jock.
“If I go by myself then I’m not leaving a tip am I? But if we go together, then everybody wins.”
I never win anything. This would be the easiest deal she ever made. “Okay.”
“Sweet.” The cop filled out a short form and hit purchase. “I’ll be back in on the seventh to let you know if we’ve won.” He disappeared through the cloudy-glass door.
“That was exciting.” Salina cleared the cops’ plates.
Allie picked up their cups and followed her back to the dishwasher. “You know he’s never coming back, right?”
“I know.” She laughed. “But at least he donated to the charity for you.”
“Sure. Sure.” They deposited their dishes in a rack and headed back up to the front.
Saline was still in Optimistic Land. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get to have lunch with that dreamboat Beau Aiken.”
“Didn’t he just get a divorce?” asked John, one of their regulars. He hadn’t shaved in days and his white whiskers glinted in the light.
“Yeah, for like, the third time.” replied Salina.
“Beau’s single. It’s Anthony who’s married and to some Latin model,” threw in Freddie who sat opposite John.
“Look at you two gossiping like teenaged girls.” Allie topped off their drinks.
“You need to pay attention to the world, Allie,” admonished Freddie. “It pays to keep up.”
“Yeah, because what happens in some actor’s personal life is going to affect me.” Allie put their check on the table.
John shook his head. “You’re a sweet girl—those guys would be lucky to buy you dinner.”
Allie laughed. “It’s a lunch and it’s not going to happen. My galaxy and their galaxies are in two different dimensions.”
“Never say never, darlin’,” added Salina.
Allie shook her head. “I’m not lucky in love or money. Besides, I’ve already married and actor and look how that turned out.”
“Reed isn’t an actor, he’s a con artist.”
“Same thing.” Allie got a laugh out of the group which caught Will’s attention.
He glared over his bifocals “Just the food, Allie—these folks didn’t come in for a show too.”
“We’ll be praying for ya, Allie,” John said quietly behind his cup.
“Thanks.” She smiled. That was sweet, but in her experience, God didn’t put much stock in luck.
Chapter 2
Allie placed a fresh piece of pecan pie in front of Jack. Jack was a regular who said he hated to cook, but Allie suspected he just didn’t like eating alone. “You sure you don’t want ice cream on that?”
Jack lifted his faded, gray-eyed gaze in her direction. “Wish I could, sweetie, but the doctor says I have to cut back if I want to live to see my grandchildren graduate from high school.”
“Then I won’t tempt you again.” She patted his back before making her way behind the counter to clean up the crumpled napkins.
Selina sat down at the counter with a cup of coffee she’d retrieved for herself. Her gray-blond hair was down today, hanging just past her shoulders, and she wore a pair of tight jeans.
Allie hoped that when she was a mom she’d be just as stylin’. Selina had come in to pick up her check and decided to stay and chat. Her son met with a group at Aaron’s Home for Autistic Children on Fridays, so Selina had some time to herself.
“How’s the hip?” Selina asked Jack.
“Not so bad this time of year. Winter can be painful.”
“My neighbor has arthritis in her knee. You’re supposed to walk to keep limber.”
The bell over the door chimed, and Allie looked up to greet the new customer.
“Welcome back,” Allie said with a smile. Two weeks had passed since the cops had stopped in for a quick meal, and while things hadn’t improved in her life, they hadn’t gotten worse. She was calling that a win. Besides, William, her miserly boss, was off having a root canal. He may return grump
ier than a plucked goose, but his temporary absence lightened the whole restaurant.
George stuck out his chin. “I’ve come to make your day.”
“Oh? You gonna order the meatball sandwich again? I’d sure like to see someone actually eat one of those.” She winked at Jack, who listened in.
“Gosh no.” He placed one hand on his stomach as if a phantom pain had erupted in his gut.
Allie hid her smile. The meatball sandwich had that effect on everyone. She’d tried to warn him …
“I came back because we won!” George threw his arms in the air.
His excitement was lost on this small crowed. Friday morning shifts were notoriously slow.
“Won what?” Allie swiped a cleaning rag across a booth.
“The lottery! Pizza with Anthony Green and a night at the Ritz.”
“Um, wow.” The name was familiar … “When is it?”
“Next Friday.”
Allie shrugged, not really feeling all that disappointed at missing out. “That’s my regular shift. Sorry.”
“Isn’t that the night your building’s being fumigated?” asked Selina.
Allie groaned. The whole building was clearing out. A decrease in the number of silverfish bugs she had to kill before going to bed would be a blessing, but she’d be homeless for twenty-four hours. Finding a cheap place to stay was a challenge.
George kept his mouth shut, his head swinging with the direction of the conversation.
Selina kicked her legs around so she faced the dining room. “I’ll cover for you.”
“But you hate working Fridays.” What she didn’t say was that Selina hated working Fridays because the tips were lousy. Allie didn’t have a kid to support and didn’t have anywhere else to be. She’d take a lousy day of tips over no day of tips.
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