**A USA TODAY BESTSELLER!**
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.
