1
LACEY
“Best sound ever,” I said to my assistant, Tessa, indicating the automatic door lock that had just thunked into place.
I settled back into the plush seat—just as comfortable as first class on the plane, but I was on the ground and almost home. What was a slog through LA traffic after a fourteen-hour flight? I sighed, leaned my head back.
“Even better than someone announcing your name for a walk down the red carpet?” Tessa teased as we settled in to wait for a family of five to finish loading their luggage into the SUV idling in front of us.
“Oh yeah. So much better,” I said, tilting my neck from side to side to work the kinks out. “You know I love my fans, but a two-week press junket is enough. So is the batch of paparazzi outside customs. And those rabid fans who don’t know a
