How does the horse look?

Victoria Rogers pressed her good arm to her very bruised, almost broken ribs. “Dad, don’t,” she said, trying to stay as still as possible. “You can’t be funny. It already hurts to breathe. It wasn’t a horse.”

Her father frowned. “I was told you were thrown off a horse.” “I was thrown out of a truck.”

“Then how’d you get the black eyes?”

“The ground was a little bit pissy when I hit it and punched me back.”

There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t hurt. The good news was that now that the medical staff had determined she didn’t have a head injury, they were going to give her drugs to help with the pain. She’d already said she didn’t want any of that weak-ass pill stuff. She wanted a nurse to give her a shot of something that would work instantly and let her rest. Because in addition to the bruised ribs, requisite scrapes and contusions, she had a broken left leg and a sprained wrist. Her previously dislocated shoulder also throbbed, but that was kind of the least of it.

As she lay in her hospital bed, feeling like death on a tortilla, she had the thought that maybe stunt work wasn’t for her. Injuries came with the job, but this was the third time in five years she’d landed in the hospital. The first time she’d messed up, so that was on her, but the other two had just been plain bad luck. The incident with the truck had come about because one of the tires had blown, causing the however many ton vehicle to jump the curb—an action that had sent her flying up and over the side. Gravity, being the bitch it was, had flung her onto the sidewalk. Hence the injuries.

Her father studied her, his brows drawn together in concern. “None of this makes me happy,” he told her.

The incongruous statement nearly made her laugh. She remembered—just in time—that her ribs wouldn’t appreciate the subsequent movement and they would punish her big-time. 

“Today isn’t my favorite day either,” she admitted, trying not to groan. “I didn’t wake up with the thought that I should try to get thrown out of the back of a pickup.” Although technically getting thrown out of the truck had been the stunt. Just not when it had happened and without warning or a plan.

“I’m worried,” her father told her. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“This time.”

She winced, and not from pain. “Now you sound like Mom.” 

Her father, a handsome man only a few months from his sixtieth birthday, brightened. “Thank you, Victoria. That’s such a nice thing to say.”

Given her weakened condition, she let that comment slide. Honestly she didn’t have the strength to deal with it right now, even though she knew her father understood exactly what she’d been saying. He was only pretending to not get it.

“If you’re going to act like that, you should go,” she said, then amended what could be construed as a catty comment into something more kind. Mostly because she only had the emotional energy not to get along with one of her parents, and her mother had already claimed that prize. “Besides, they’ll be bringing my drugs any second. I plan to surrender to sleep, so I’m not going to be very conversational.”

As if to prove her point, one of the nurses walked in with a syringe. “Ready to feel better?” he asked cheerfully.

“Yes, and let me say, you’re my favorite person ever.” 

He winked. “I get that all the time.”

He slowly injected whatever the medication was into her IV. Victoria drew in a shallow breath as she waited to feel that first blurring of the edges of the pain. Modern medicine was a miracle she intended to embrace.

The nurse left. Milton took her good hand in his.

“I’ll let you rest,” he told her. “But I’ll be back later tonight.” He squeezed her fingers. “Tomorrow, when you’re released, I’m taking you home.”

Ugh. Victoria knew that her father wasn’t talking about the pretty condo he’d bought her when she’d turned twenty-one. Instead he meant the house where she’d grown up. The one where her mother still resided.

“I don’t need to move back,” she protested, feeling the first telltale easing of the pain. “I have a few bumps and bruises.”

“Along with a broken leg. And what about your ribs? You can barely move without wincing.”

“I have zero pain tolerance. I’m a total wimp.”

He frowned. “You’re tough and stoic. If you’re showing signs of pain, it’s bad. You’ll stay with your mother and me until you’re well enough to be on your own.” He pointed at her. “I mean it, Victoria. You don’t get a vote.”

Her father was rarely stern with her, so his sharp tone warned her he wasn’t kidding. And she knew from twenty-four years of experience that arguing with the man would get her nowhere. Milton didn’t take a stand very often, but when he did, he was the immovable object.

“I wish you loved me less,” she murmured, feeling a little floaty and stumbling over her words. “Okay, I feel drugs. Let me enjoy the experience of breathing without, you know, wanting to die.”

Oh, baby girl. You’ve always been difficult.”

“I know. It’s one of my best qualities.” Her eyes drifted closed. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you more.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Come alone.”

His soft chuckle was the last thing she heard.

Excerpted from Otherwise Engaged by Susan Mallery, Copyright © 2025 by Susan Mallery Inc. Published by MIRA Books. 

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BRIBE BAGS

JULIA SONG HATED being the center of attention.

So standing here at the head of the conference table, expect-ant eyes of Very Important People all on her, was pretty much torture.

But Julia was the CEO of Starlight Cosmetics, this company was her baby, these VIPs the executives she hired to help grow the business. And the news she had to share with them was monumental.

She scanned her memory for the advice from her executive coach for this kind of situation. The only thing she could remember was, contrary to everything she’d ever been told before in her life, never try to picture your audience naked. It would make the nerves even worse.

And, of course, now that’s all Julia could think of.

She closed her eyes for a moment to clear her mind of all the unfortunate images fighting to run through her head.

What was that one thing her coach told her?

Squeeze your butt cheeks to hold the plank. Wait, no, that was her abs coach.

If the recipe calls for garlic, double it. Wrong again. That was her cooking coach.

Oh, screw it. What was the use of having all these people to help Julia better herself when she couldn’t call upon the advice when needed?

She cleared her throat and decided to wing it.

“I know you’re all busy, so I’ll make this quick. Look, it’s not how I wanted to do this . . .”

Her dream, rather, was to one day point at each of them and tell them an exorbitant dollar amount for a bonus. Enough money for them to buy new homes in the hills or on the beach, whichever they preferred.

“Wait—are you firing us?” someone cried out from the other end of the table.

Julia’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “What? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Always start with something personal and positive to get people excited about what you’re going to say. Oh yeah, that’s the brilliant advice her coach had mentioned.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so ominous.” Julia quickly backtracked. “It’s just that, well, at the risk of get-ting too squishy in a work meeting, I really wanted to thank you all for taking a chance on me way back when all of this was just an idea in my head.”

Julia swallowed the emotion building in her throat as she looked around at the team she’d put together to lead this company. They were the ones who took her idea to merge the best in the Korean skincare market with the high demands of the US consumer and built what was now one of the fastest- growing organic, clean K- beauty brands in America.

“I just want to tell you how much I appreciate your hard work and loyalty. I don’t know that any of us anticipated this kind of success. But honestly, none of it would have happened without each and every one of you and your contribution. And now, I have some really great news. As you know, Starlight’s Lotus Bamboo Essence was selected for Allure’s Best of Beauty awards. Which was a dream come true for us. But it doesn’t end there.”

Julia inserted the dramatic pause her public speaking coach had encouraged her to use. The looks of anticipation around the room fueled her excitement.

“I’m thrilled to share that the same Lotus Bamboo Essence has also been selected as one of this year’s Oprah’s Favorite Things!”

There was a silent pause of shock, followed by an eruption of applause and cheers, high fives, and hugs shared around the table.

“We’ll need to reforecast sales projections. We’re gonna blow up with the exposure . . .”

“We’re gonna have to update a comms plan . . .”

“We have to think of how we add this to the packaging design . . .”

“We need to make sure the supply chain can handle the increased distribution . . .”

“Oprah still has major influence on Gen X consumer spending. It’s a big win for a product . . .”

Yup, that was her team  .  .  . no- nonsense, capable, loyal, honest . . . and the hardest- working, most talented people in the industry. And they were all business, just like her.

Her chest swelled as she watched them leave to get back to work, patting each other on the back as they walked out, taking the noise with them.

Julia started this company at only twenty- six years old. She’d disappointed her parents by changing her major from pre- med to business administration. She lived off ramen and PB&J sandwiches for a good year just to scrape by as she worked tirelessly to research the hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms. And she stomached the start- up community’s boys’ club as she tried to secure funding for the company.

And four short years later, they were on the verge of something huge. Hard work and dedication had brought them to this level of success. So yeah, she was proud of them, proud of herself. And at only thirty, she was finally in a position financially to take care of her family without worry.

When the last person left her office, Julia turned to look out the windows, the hustle and bustle of Santa Monica ten floors below. She took a deep breath.

“That’s right, motherfuckers,” she screamed, while pumping her fist. She shook her hips back and forth, adding in some aggressive hair throws and, why the heck not, followed it with a body roll. “Oh yeah, uh- huh . . .”

“Oh dear, that’s something I’m not likely going to forget seeing.”

Record scratch.

Julia halted her celebratory dance and quickly patted down her hair, trying to tuck her I- knew- I’d- regret-these bangs behind her ear as her assistant, Annette, entered the office.

“Unlike what your schedule says on paper, you’ve only actually attended that hot yoga class once. Should you really be try-ing to move your body like that?” Annette asked. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You’re fired.”

Annette passed her the cup of black coffee in the Morning Person mug that she knew was a lie, along with a multivitamin and a probiotic. Breakfast of champions.

“Just remember that I know where the bodies are hidden. Oh, and I have those pictures of you from that one holiday party . . .” 

“Okay, fine, you can stay,” Julia conceded. 

“Is it a good time to ask for a raise?”

Julia tried to shoot Annette a glare but couldn’t keep back the smile. It was a secret to no one that Annette was invaluable to the Starlight team, and most days she was the one bossing Julia around. Julia shook her head and took a seat at her desk. “Can you forward the O magazine email to the team so they know all the details?”

“You betcha,” Annette said. “Have you told your folks yet?” 

“No, not yet. I don’t think they’d even understand what a big deal this is.”

“Make sure to tell them.” Annette wasn’t only her assistant, she was also her work- mother as well. “Oh, and here is the updated short list of investors we might want to approach for global expansion. One bad meeting doesn’t have to halt progress.”

One bad meeting was an understatement. The last time Julia had met with an investment firm for an informational meeting, they kept asking about her significant other, driving home that they were a family- run business built on traditional values. They looked at her as young and inexperienced not because of her age— she knew plenty of male CEOs who were thirty— but because she wasn’t married with children. In their eyes, Julia wasn’t reliable because she wasn’t settled . . . settled down, that is.

Her accomplishments, alone, weren’t enough.

I’ll show them, she thought to herself as she gritted her teeth. Julia grabbed the list from Annette with a little bit more force than necessary and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Hey.” Annette softened her voice like she so rarely ever did. The one word in that tone made Julia surprisingly emotional. “It’s a good day, boss lady. You should be proud.” She patted Julia on the shoulder before walking back to her desk just outside Julia’s office.

Excerpted from JULIA SONG IS UNDATEABLE by Susan Lee. Copyright © 2025 by Susan Lee. Published by Canary Street Press, an imprint of HarperCollins.

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