Page 2 of The Baker's Dozen

In many ways, food is love.

To me, the two are one and the same.

So, not only do these eligible bachelors have to be hot, loveable, relatable, and ready to fall in love—with clean backgrounds and no strings attached—they also have to cook their way into the heart of the woman they will be vying for,andthe viewers at home as well.

And therein lies the problem. Since the audience obviously won’t be tasting each guy’s food, the contestants’ looks and personalities have to be appealing, and I have to predict whether or not the viewers will take to each man individually. Otherwise, how will the audience choose who to vote off and who to keep? If voting is based on food alone, the process won’t work because only the star will get to taste the goods.

Like I said, lucky bitch.

Additionally, I find myself obsessing over the risk factor for each contestant, like whether he’ll be too chaotic for the show, causing trouble that could potentially distract from my star’s quest for love. Or, on the other hand, what if he’s too bland? If he’s boring, he could inevitably fade into the background like scenery. The guys I choose have to carry a certain amount of risk, but not too much. They need to be bold enough to take chances, but not so bold that I mistakenly create a cast full of competing villains.

A show without villains at all would be ideal—as far as my star’s love life goes—but not where ratings are concerned. Historically speaking, placing a group of people into a competition setting of any degree means a villain will emerge regardless. There’s always at leastone.

And, like it or not,villainsequalratings.

Can’t have a successful show without those.

While I can’t failsafe against a bad boy eventually emerging, there is one thing I’ll absolutely never tolerate on my show, and that’s a fame-hungry ex-lover.

Ugh. Cringe.

There won’t be any surprise visits from jilted ex-boyfriends—or ex-girlfriends—on my project, thank you very much. After years of my life spent studying various reality dating shows, dissecting them episode by episode, cast member by cast member, analyzing the good, the bad, and the downright nasty, I know what works.

I can accept that everyone loves a villain.

But audiencesrarelyreact well to an ex showing up and throwing a wrench into things.

Unattacheddoesn’t just meansingle, it means single for a long—but nottoolong—amount of time. Long enough that he won’t have some recently-jilted ex-girlfriend popping off to the tabloids, but not single so long that the audience will question why he’s still a bachelor.

Because a perpetual bachelor is just that:perpetual.

Sigh.

Is it too late to delegate?

In this glorious age of the internet, anything can be found online with just a little bit of digging, so in addition to thoroughly investigating each man’s dating history, my crew was tasked with digging up anything even slightly untoward. No records. No arrests. No charges. Not even a jaywalking ticket will pass through to the final round.

Am I being too careful? Possibly. But I have one shot at this, and I’m not about to blow it.

A DUI arrest could mean a history of alcohol abuse. A speeding ticket could indicate recklessness. A battery charge could be a one-off barfight… or a history of domestic abuse. There is just no way to know, so I have no room to take chances with anyone’s safety.

All my prerequisites only thinned the herdfrom the five-thousand or so original entries to the hundreds cascading across my desk, meant to be narrowed down to twenty-three finalists by—I glance at the time on my desktop computer—two days ago.

But it’s fine.

I’m fine.

Help?

Chapter Two

Dawson

Driving my hand through my hair, I pace divots into the plush carpet of my oceanfront hotel room. It’s certainly nicer digs than I’m used to, and I’m a bit surprised my cousin sprang for such a place; it had to have cost him a pretty penny. But now that I know his motives, I realize the room’s extravagance is a direct reflection of his guilt.

And heshouldfeel guilty.

I redeyed out to Los Angeles because this little weasel promised me a spot on an upcoming cooking show. I stopped everything and raced across the country for my big break.

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