She loved this job. She simply wouldn’t believe she couldn’t make it work, her way.

But she’d been summoned by the boss…reminding her that determination was not enough, not in Hollywood. Drawing a deep breath, she made the long walk from her office to his. Outside his closed door, she smoothed her skirt, decided there was no hope for her hair so she didn’t even try and, after pasting a smile over her worried frown, knocked with every ounce of confidence and authority she had.

“Come in!”

Em opened the door. From the big leather chair behind his big, fancy network desk, Nathan Bennett scowled.

Em locked her smile in place. “You wanted to see me?”

“Emmaline Harris. Sit.”

Great, her full name. Never a good sign. She entered and sat where he indicated-a smaller, far less comfortable-looking chair, which was there, she knew, to make people feel inferior.

She wouldn’t let it work. After all, she’d been raised with her mother’s words ringing in her ears. “Em,” she’d say, hands on her hips, her jeans dirty from hard work. “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

A quote from Eleanor Roosevelt, of course, and Em had always believed it. She was tough enough for this town!

Nathan looked at her for a long moment, as if measuring his words carefully. “Do you know why you’re here today?”

To be fired. Unless she could fast-talk her way back. Which she could do, she told herself. She could fast-talk with the best of them. It was lying and manipulation she had trouble with. “I’m pretty certain.”

Nathan nodded, looking stern and unhappy, and Em felt as if she was sitting in front of the principal, only this was worse, far worse, because being ousted here meant so much more than a few days suspension without homework. It meant bye-bye paycheck.