Introduction
It all started with the wrong help-wanted ad. Of course it did. I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits. Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait. See? That’s the problem. My profession has used the term fluffer for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term. Until it was too late. The ad for a professional fluffer on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day. The perfect job! Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a fluffer doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch. They arrange other soft, round-ish objects. The job isn’t hard. Well, I mean, it is–it’s about being hard. Or, um, helping other people to be hard. In decisions about stripping down, I mean! Oh, man… And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham–my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. It's a rental house. By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house-staging gig has turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with a naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naïveté. The job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined? Having all my dreams come true. --- Read all the books in the Do-Over series: Little Miss Perfect (free prequel) Fluffy (USA Today bestseller) Perky (USA Today bestseller) Feisty Hasty Audiobook versions narrated by Audie award winner Erin Mallon!
Chapter 1
Fluffy
by Julia Kent
It all started with the wrong help-wanted ad. Of course it did.
I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.
Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.
See? That’s the problem. My profession has used the term
fluffer
for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.
Until it was too late.
The ad for a professional fluffer on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.
The perfect job!
Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a fluffer doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.
They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.
The job isn’t hard. Well, I mean, it is–it’s about being hard. Or, um, helping other people to be hard. In decisions about stripping down, I mean!
Oh, man…
And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham–my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. It's a rental house.
By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house-staging gig has turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with a naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naïveté.
The job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?
Having all my dreams come true.
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Last Updated: 3/3/2025
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**
I hate girls like her.
Entitled.
Delicate.
And still—
Still.
The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.
Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.
It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.
I’m not here to rescue anyone.
Especially not her.
Especially not someone like her.
She’s not my problem.
And I’ll make damn sure she never becomes one.
But when my eyes fell on her lips, I wanted her to be mine.
"What is wrong with me?
Why does being near him make my skin feel too tight, like I’m wearing a sweater two sizes too small?
It’s just newness, I tell myself firmly.
He’s my boyfirend’s brother.
This is Tyler’s family.
I’m not going to let one cold stare undo that.
**
As a ballet dancer, My life looks perfect—scholarship, starring role, sweet boyfriend Tyler. Until Tyler shows his true colors and his older brother, Asher, comes home.
Asher is a Navy veteran with battle scars and zero patience. He calls me "princess" like it's an insult. I can't stand him.
When My ankle injury forces her to recover at the family lake house, I‘m stuck with both brothers. What starts as mutual hatred slowly turns into something forbidden.
I'm falling for my boyfriend's brother.
**
I hate girls like her.
Entitled.
Delicate.
And still—
Still.
The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.
Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.
It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.
I’m not here to rescue anyone.
Especially not her.
Especially not someone like her.
She’s not my problem.
And I’ll make damn sure she never becomes one.
But when my eyes fell on her lips, I wanted her to be mine.
