Kissing Madeline (Dearest #3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

logistics of tomorrow.”
    At that, my face falls. Spencer is the new producer corporate hired to increase ratings. And he’s a total asshole.
    As though sensing my trepidation, Roger nods. “You’ll do great, girls. I have faith in you.”
    God, I want to kick ass for him. He’s been under so much pressure about our ratings lately. Corporate wants him to do more about viral videos and feature celebrity bullshit. He’s been holding out, but I know if he doesn’t turn things around, he’s losing his job.
    Here’s the crazy part. I heard through the grapevine that Roger wasn’t excited about hiring Nicole or me. He wanted more seasoned veterans but gave in because he didn’t have a choice. According to the gossip, corporate made him hire young, attractive girls. I don’t know why that endears him more to me. Maybe it’s because I know he really cares about the news and getting it done right.
    I plan to make him proud.
    * * *
    Spencer’s eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he goes over his notes with Nicole. I might as well be a piece of lint.
    “The Rebels hope to increase their viewership among women, and they want to use this weekly segment to tap into a whole new viewership. I think you’re just the girl to do it,” he says to Nicole, not hiding his interest in her artificially high breasts.
    Spencer is not a bad-looking guy. He’s in his early thirties and has an impressive resume that boasts consulting gigs with major news networks across the country. At least, I’d be impressed if he didn’t creep me out.
    Nicole doesn’t seem to care that our boss is leering at her tits. She’s too busy jotting down ideas in her notebook. “I can’t believe I get to interview Daren Sloan. Fuck, yeah.”
    I cringe at the expletive, thinking back to my professor who would ream us out if we cursed around him for fear we’d drop an f-bomb on live television, but Douchebag Spencer doesn’t bat an eye.
    Nicole looks over tomorrow’s schedule with a frown. “We don’t have a lot of time for the interview.”
    This is where I could tell her Daren is my neighbor, that we have mutual friends, that I could probably get her more than the ten minutes the team promised us. But then I’m reminded of the many times Nicole’s handed me a big, fat serving of snark during the last month, and my usual pay-it-forward philosophy disappears faster than Kanye’s false sense of humility at an awards show.
    Nicole taps her pen at the edge of her notebook. “Spence, what approach should I take? Would you prefer that I ask the totally clueless questions like the idiots out there who don’t know jack about football?”
    Spence? I’m vomiting on the inside.
    “No, just do your thang, girl. Get Daren talking about the game. Use your charm.” He clicks his tongue. “Give the ladies watching a show.”
    I resist making a gagging sound. But only barely.
    He starts to walk away, and I call out, “Did you have any special direction for me?”
    Spencer doesn’t look up from his call sheet. “Touch base with news. See what they need.” And then he shuffles out of the office.
    His commitment to journalism is heartwarming.
    Nicole talks through her questions like I’m not in the room. How did you feel when you won the Heisman? What can we expect from you this season? How much time do you think you’ll play? Are you dating anyone?
    Somehow, I don’t think those are the questions the team is hoping she’ll ask. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Nicole, have you considered just asking basic football questions for girls who want to learn the game but don’t know where to begin?”
    She makes a “pft” sound and shakes her head at me like I’m an idiot.
    Okey-doke. I’m done. Nicole trots off to talk to the sports department, and I return to my notes.
    At least I can finally do the segment about the wildlife preserve. The Rebels don’t seem concerned that expanding their parking will endanger the golden-winged warbler, which is