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:: A few years back, I read about a company in Manhattan that teaches their clients (mostly women) what to do -- and what not to do -- in order to get that special someone to finally propose. I thought that this was fascinating, that not only did women need to know about the so-called dating rules, but that there were "Rules of Engagement" as well! I knew immediately that there were so many ways I could use a company like this in my books. Men, women, love, rules. Ha! The possibilities were endless!

My fictional company, Rules of Engagement, first showed up in Match Game, though only in a supporting role. Lillian Bryson, the owner of the company, is the hero’s mother in that book. In "Nothing but the Truth" in The Naked Truth anthology, Rules of Engagement moves into the limelight. In this story, Rules of Engagement’s receptionist, Madison Case, learns that the lies we tell ourselves are the most damaging lies of all. 

The company shows up again in Dead Heat, a March 2006 release under my pseudonym, Jacey Ford. In Dead Heat, my heroine, Daphne Donovan, is forced to register for a class at Rules of Engagement in order to tail her client’s cheating girlfriend.  In the end, she gets her man . . . Lillian Bryson's oldest son, Sam.

Next, Lillian meddles in another woman’s life when she teams up with Tasha O'Shaunessey’s sister in "So Caught Up in You" in the Catch of the Day June 2006 anthology. 

Finally, in October 2006, Lillian finally gets a starring role in The Dating Game, where her every dating "rule" backfires on poor Lainie Ames, who is trying to win the heart of the prom king during her high school reunion.

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CHAPTER ONE of ”Nothing But the Truth”

On the day Madison Case’s divorce became final, she asked the man who had been proclaimed her ex-husband two minutes before when it was that he had stopped loving her.

Jeff had turned and looked at her with his soft brown eyes and said, not unkindly, “To be honest, Maddie, I’m not sure I ever loved you.”

That was one truth Maddie wished her ex had kept to himself. Nothing like learning your marriage had been one big lie right from the start.

Maddie sighed and pulled three bulging files toward her. She didn’t know why she was thinking of Jeff today. Their divorce had now lasted longer than their six-and-a-half-month marriage had.

“Blame it on Valentine’s Day,” Maddie muttered to herself as she flipped open the top file. Or maybe it was the three proposals that she was in charge of organizing this evening. She couldn’t stop thinking about how pointless it all seemed, with everyone going through the motions as if there really were such a thing as true love.

Yeah, yeah. She knew that with this attitude, working as the receptionist/Girl Friday at Rules of Engagement—a marriage preparatory service that helped potential spouses get their reluctant brides- and grooms-to-be to the altar—was probably not the best fit for her. She was running low on “happily ever after” these days.

Hell, who was she kidding? She came from a long line of losers at love. Her HEA supply had been low to begin with. Still, having her ex-husband admit that he’d never loved her had hurt. Being married to a prominent plastic surgeon with his own reality makeover show on TV had made her feel special. When he withdrew his love—and his last name—Maddie was back where she’d started from: jobless, single, and alone.

But at least she wasn’t living in Podunk, Idaho anymore.

Maddie allowed herself a half-smile at that. Yeah, she’d take sunny Naples, Florida, over her small, chicken-farming hometown any day. Not that there was anything wrong with chicken farmers. Or farmers of any sort. Or even chickens, although they weren’t exactly the cuddly animals Easter commercials and Disney cartoons led one to believe.

It just wasn’t the sort of life one dreamed about living.

So when Jeff breezed into town, scouting victims for the next season of American Model, and offered to marry her and take her away from it all, Maddie hadn’t spent even a second pondering how it was that the wealthy, eligible bachelor had fallen in love with her after only two weeks. After all, she had managed to fall in love with him that quickly. Surely the same must have been true for him. Otherwise, why would he have proposed?

Six months later, Maddie had the answer to that question. Only, it was another hard truth she wished she’d never learned.

Maddie looked up when the sickeningly cheerful bells tied to the front door of Rules of Engagement jangled as the door was pushed open.

“Help!” a woman wailed as she nearly fell inside the carpeted waiting area.

Maddie jumped up from behind her desk, pushing her chair out of the way so she wouldn’t trip on it. Her office was set up like a doctor’s reception area, with two large sliding windows that opened up so she could talk to clients while sitting behind her desk. She hurried out of her office and into the waiting area, where a size fourteen woman squeezed into a size twelve outfit sat panting in one of the blue chairs flanking a low coffee table covered with magazines.

Maddie recognized the woman as Denise Clay, proposee number one in this evening’s proposal-fest. Denise’s fiancé-to-be, Guy Bromley, planned to swoop into the harbor on his 40-foot sailboat, pluck Denise out of the surf, and slip the ring on her finger while the Channel 2 news team assigned to cover the Valentine’s Day Marry-Me Marathon filmed the event.

Denise and Guy had met a year ago down in the Caribbean, where they’d both been cruising with their now-ex-spouses. They’d joined a flotilla heading to Tortuga, swapped partners around Tortola, and then sailed off into the sunset together toward Trinidad and Tobago.

So their engagement-at-sea seemed only fitting.

Denise knew nothing about this, however. She thought that tonight’s event was nothing more than a costume party arranged by Rules of Engagement in honor of Valentine’s Day. There was to be a party tonight, but it was the three surprise proposals that were the true highlight of the evening.

Maddie took a deep breath and wondered, not for the first time, why Lillian Bryson, the owner of Rules of Engagement, had trusted the most important part of tonight’s festivities to her. Lillian was taking care of the last-minute details at the Gulf-front mansion where the Rules of Engagement party would be held and had left the proposals in Maddie’s care. Maddie only hoped that her boss’s faith in her was not misplaced.

Nervously smoothing her hands over her short black skirt, Maddie sat down next to Denise.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, hoping that she could fix whatever it was.

“I’m fat,” Denise wailed again, then covered her face with her hands and began sobbing.

Maddie leaned forward and awkwardly patted the woman’s back. She tried to scoot her chair closer, but was hindered by the shopping bags Denise had tossed to the floor when she’d come in. Maddie spied a bright pink bag from Sassy Swimwear and cringed. Nothing could make a woman—even one who wasn’t overweight—feel fatter than trying on swimsuits.

Unfortunately, Guy’s instructions had been very clear. He’d first spied Denise sunning herself on the deck of a Beneteau 373 wearing nothing but a pair of sunglasses and a bikini. He wanted to recreate that special moment this evening, and it was Maddie’s job to convince Denise to show up in a swimsuit, despite the fact that Denise had put on a good twenty pounds in the year since she and Guy had met.

If Denise refused, the mood would be broken and the proposal might be off.

And that would make Rules of Engagement look pretty silly on the eight o’clock news.

Maddie couldn’t let that happen. She had to do something to make Denise stop crying, and since she wasn’t exactly in possession of a magic wand that could instantly melt off unwanted fat, she was going to have to come up with another plan. Too bad she couldn’t rush Denise over to her ex-husband’s House o’ Plastic Surgery for a little last-minute liposuction . . .

“Everyone feels that way after trying on swimsuits,” Maddie soothed. “Besides, you know it doesn’t matter. Your life wouldn’t be any happier if you suddenly shed ten pounds.” That, Maddie knew, was the truth. She’d watched plenty of size two women walk into Jeff’s office, as miserable with their bodies as Denise was with hers.

Denise’s hiccup was muffled by her hands.

Maddie took this as a positive sign and continued. “I’ll bet whatever you picked out is flattering. Would you like to show me? I promise to give you my honest opinion,” she said, resisting the urge to cross her fingers behind her back. No way would she tell Denise if she thought her new swimsuit made her look like a beach ball with legs. For one, she wasn’t that cruel. But she also couldn’t risk Denise refusing to go along with Guy’s plans.

Denise sniffled. “You’ll really tell me if you think I look fat?” she asked.

Maddie nodded.

After taking a deep breath, Denise leaned over to pick up the bright pink bag. “Okay. I’ll be right back,” she said, and then disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom.

Maddie stifled the urge to groan. Why hadn’t Lillian put her in charge of the party? That, she could handle. Florist, caterers, musicians—they were easy. It was the romantically inclined who had Maddie breaking out in hives.

“What do you think?” Denise asked with a tremor in her voice.

Maddie smiled with relief. The one-piece black suit with white piping around the legs and halter-style neck was classy and slimming. She wouldn’t have to lie after all. “It looks—” she began, then paused when Denise turned around. There was something odd about the back of the suit, but Maddie couldn’t quite figure out what it was. She tried squinting and turning her head, but still couldn’t decide what had caught her eye. The cut itself was fine. It wasn’t riding up into Denise’s butt crack and did a fair job of jiggle-control as Denise walked toward her.

Still, something wasn’t quite right. But since Maddie couldn’t put her finger on what it was, she decided to ignore it.

“—great!” she finished, hoping Denise hadn’t noticed her hesitation.

“Do you really think so?” Denise asked.

“Yes,” Maddie answered, then forced herself to gush. “It’s amazing, like you’ve magically lost two sizes. Who’s the designer? I’m going to have to get one of those for myself.” Inwardly, she cringed at the fake enthusiasm in her voice. But what could she do? She needed tonight to be a success and, besides, it was just a little white lie. Who could it possibly hurt?

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