The inspiration for one of the plot lines in Hot SEAL, Dirty Martini (which is on preorder for a Sept 18th release) was ABC’s cancellation of their daytime cooking and variety show, The Chew. One of the Chew hosts posted on Facebook, “As you may have heard by now we found out today this is our final season of The Chew.”

Watching the show on TV the day it was announced and seeing the shell-shocked faces and restrained tears in the eyes of the three co-hosts coming on-air live that day as they had to function in front of the cameras and a studio audience–it made me want to explore that story and those feelings more. As a writer the best way to do that was through the eyes of one of my characters. It happened that I was about to start plotting a new book so the timing was right and so Tasha Jones, daytime talk show host, was created.

Want a peek into a scene from the book? Here it is!

Hot SEAL, Dirty Martini (SEALs in Paradise) by Cat Johnson

TV talk show host Tasha Jones is flying high, until one word–CANCELED–sends her crashing. Now she’s looking to resurrect her career with a new home renovation show, if they can get around the obnoxious buyer standing between her and the perfect property.

When her competition turns out to be none other then the a-hole from her embarrassing drunken one-night stand, the battle for the property really heats up as the insults–and the sparks–fly. The producer notices the chemistry between them and decides the viewers will too and the concept for “Hot House” is born.

FULL CHAPTER EXCERPT FROM HOT SEAL, DIRTY MARTINI [unedited sneak peek]

“Tasha. Jane. Can you two come into my office, please?” Jerry popped his head into her dressing room and then disappeared down the hall.

Tasha frowned at her assistant’s reflection in the mirror. “We go on air live in fifteen minutes and he wants to have a meeting now?”

Jane shrugged. “He’s the boss.”

“Humph.” That was all Tasha had in response, because even if Jerry was the executive producer of Good Day, San Diego, there’d be no show without Tasha.

Viewers tuned in daily to see her.

The Daytime Emmy Award for Best Host of a Lifestyle Program displayed on her mantelpiece had the name Tasha Jones engraved on it. Not Jerry Bernstein.

Tasha took one last glance at her reflection in the mirror hanging above her make-up table in her dressing room. Why she bothered looking she wasn’t sure. However she looked right now was how she was going on air, with the command performance in Jerry’s office and then the show going live in—she glanced at the time—twenty-two minutes.

She sighed and stood. “Might as well get in there and see what is so important.”

Jane nodded her agreement and they made their way down the hall and to Jerry’s office.

“Shut the door.”

Tasha turned back to do as Jerry had instructed, without benefit of a please or thank you from him, she noted.

When she turned back toward the desk, she also took note of the deep furrow between his brows. The man’s entire demeanor broadcasted stress.

For the first time since getting the summons to his office, she stopped being annoyed and began to get worried.

“What’s wrong?” Tasha lowered herself to perch on the edge of a chair. She had a feeling she might need to be sitting for this.

Next to her Jane did the same. Tasha resisted the urge to reach out and hold Jane’s hand for support—support for herself, not for Jane.

“I wanted you to hear this from me first.” Given Jerry’s expression and those doom-filled words—nothing good could follow that sentence.

Her pulse whooshed so loud in her ears she barely heard the rest of what he said as he continued, “The network is making the announcement today. The show’s not being renewed for next season.”

When she exhaled the breath she’d been holding she realized she couldn’t get new air into her lungs. For a few panicked seconds it was as if she were underwater, drowning, unable to draw breath.

A few shallow breaths in quick succession convinced her she wasn’t going to suffocate, but she might pass out.

“Are you all right?” Jane asked.

“No.” She wasn’t now and wouldn’t be for a long time. How could she be? She’d just bought the condo. She had a huge mortgage on it because she’d expected the show to be renewed. The ratings were great. She’d just won the Emmy last season.

She’d foreseen no earthly reason why they’d want to cancel a successful show. She still couldn’t fathom the reason.

“Why?” she asked Jerry, appalled to hear her voice sounded as breathless as she felt.

“The network wants to go another direction with their daytime programming.”

“What other direction?”

“Harder hitting stories. Political commentary. Big name interviews.”

She felt the frown form on her brow in spite of the Botox injections she’d gotten so she’d look good on camera for this thankless network that didn’t appreciate a successful show when they saw it.

“The viewers like what we do. They love the cooking segments, and cocktail recipes, and the fashion advice, and the celebrity interviews. And the ratings are—”

Jerry’s continuous head shaking cut off the rest of the Tasha’s list of proof that the network was wrong.

“I know, Tash. Everything you’re saying is true. Ratings are good but they’re stagnant. There’s been no growth in viewership for more than two years.”

“How can we expect growth? With all the cord cutting and streaming channels out there, no network show is showing growth.” In fact, in Tasha’s opinion, holding steady was a miracle. She considered not losing rating points a win in this environment where there were so many other things vying for viewers’ attention.

Jerry lifted one shoulder. “Hallmark Network has seen a considerable gain over the past two years.”

Tasha frowned. “Really?”

She considered what must be true. Jerry might be cold hearted but he wasn’t an outright liar.

Hallmark played the opposite of deep political shows. They catered to viewers who wanted light escapism, which was exactly what her show did and what the network wanted to move away from, which only proved her point—the network’s new direction was wrong.

She opened her mouth to explain just that when Jerry held up his hand and stopped her words before they left her lips.

“Look, Tash. It was a good show. We had a good run. Six years is longer than most shows make it. But the decision has already been made. They’re not going to change their mind. Believe me, I already tried.”

He was already using the past tense when speaking about her show. Her career. Like a post-mortem.

She sat, stunned into shocked silence, leaving a long pause in the conversation that neither Jane nor Jerry interrupted.

“When?” she asked.

“This season will end as scheduled. This week was to be the last of the live shows before the hiatus. We had already planned to run previously aired content over the summer. The network will launch the new show replacing yours in your time slot in September, the week after Labor Day.”

Deep down she hoped ratings sucked, the viewers hated it and the network regretted their decision, and she didn’t feel at all bad about thinking it.

Even so, none of that would do her any good. If the new show failed nothing would change for her personally.

The news was still going to go out on the wire today that her show hadn’t been picked up for another season. This time of year announcements like this were daily occurrences as networks ironed out their schedules for the upcoming season. Shows didn’t get picked up all the time, but not her show.

It might be foolish to think so, but the cancellation felt like a blemish on her record. A stigma. One that could never be erased.

Blowing out a breath, she steeled herself to move forward—a least through the next hour. After that she could fall apart.

“All right.” She stood and smoothed her pencil skirt with her hands.

Turning, she somehow managed to walk out of the office under her own power even though her legs felt as weak as when she’d been crazy enough to run that half-marathon.

Out in the hall, she looked closer at every face she saw, studying the expression, trying to decide who knew, who didn’t.

They were all in the same boat. They too were out of a job. Every one of the crew. Her crew. Though not hers anymore. Not after the end of the show today.

That was it then. Next week, instead of going on hiatus and into contract negotiations for what she’d planned on being a nice bump in pay for next season, she’d be unemployed along with everyone else here today.

God, she was so screwed. Her savings weren’t going to get her very far. Not after splurging on new furniture to go in her newly purchased condo.

She had to call her agent. She had to start lining up another job . . .

And she couldn’t do any of it until after she got through a one-hour live show, smiling and cheerful on what had to be the worst day of her life.

What the hell had Jerry been thinking springing this on her when she was about to walk on air live?

She added something new to the top of her To Do list—get a freaking drink. She certainly needed one. But unless they happened to be mixing cocktails on the show today, that too would have to wait.

“Five minutes!”

For the first time since getting her dream job, Tasha wasn’t happy to hear those words shouted backstage.

But it didn’t matter. A studio packed full with a live audience for today’s show waited for her. In five minutes she’d have to go out there and smile and pretend nothing was wrong.

Pretend that she wasn’t pissed and upset and jobless and possibly soon to be homeless.

Pretend things were fine. As good as they were before she stepped foot into that office and got the news.

No.

Forget all that. She wasn’t going to pretend.

The fans loved her. They were and always would be on her side and they deserved the truth. They deserved to know. To find out from her, not from some gossip rag or entertainment show reporter.

That was too impersonal. She had to address this personally. Directly. Now. On air. Straight to the studio audience and the viewers at home.

Nothing much. Just a simple statement that there wouldn’t be a season six. That today’s would be the last live show. Ever.

At that thought her throat tightened and she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes. She ignored the feeling and stalked toward the set.

Jane ran after her. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

“Fine.” The single strangled word didn’t come out sounding as if she were fine. Tasha dared to glance at Jane and saw the concern etched on her features.

Feeling sentimental, Tasha pulled Jane against her in an hug. When she pulled back she saw Jane looked as surprised by the uncharacteristic move as she was herself.

“You’re good people, Jane. You’ll get another job soon. Probably right away. Someone will scoop you right up.” Tasha forced a smile. She’d better get good at doing that—faking smiles.

“You will too. I’m certain.” Jane nodded hard, sending her pony tail bobbing.

Tasha let out a snort, wishing she were as sure.

“One minute!” The call brought her back to the obstacle ahead. The show. The last one. Ever.

She drew in a shaky breath and smiled again, ignoring how her eyes had gone blurry. Ignoring too how closely Jane was watching her, clearly worried. Probably wondering if she could pull this show off today. That made two of them.

“Show time,” she said as the theme music began to play and she strode out onto the set for the final time.

“Good day, San Diego.” She delivered the show’s opening tag line but couldn’t bring herself to go on with business as usual and deliver the next line she was supposed to. The one she’d said every show for five years–It’s a great day to be here.

“It’s not a great day to be here, I’m sad to say.” Tasha scanned the faces of the crowd as her words sunk in, as one by one they realized she hadn’t repeated the usual line.

She continued, “I’m sorry to have to say these words, but today will be the last Good Day, San Diego live show. We haven’t been renewed for next season.”

There were gasps from the audience. A couple of people said aloud, “No.”

She dared to glance to the side and saw the looks on the faces of the crew. They were all in this boat together. Make that a sinking ship. Her emotions began to take hold.

“The network, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to change focus.” Sadness turned to anger, and spilled out in her tone as she actually used air quotes to reinforce the words that she still found baffling and ridiculous. “They want serious news and politics. Because there’s not already enough network and cable news channels running new and politics twenty-four/seven, right?”

She scanned the audience and saw nods of agreement from those in the crowd.

Encouraged and discouraged all at the same time, heart pounding, Tasha continued, “And you know what? I have to think it’s because men are running the network. Men who don’t understand or maybe just don’t care what a predominantly female audience wants. They’re making the decision to change based on what? I certainly don’t know. Our ratings are great. We have incredible sponsors. Our viewers are some of the best damn fans in daytime TV.”

A cheer and applause rose up, making the tears she’d been barely holding back threaten to spill over the rim of her flooded eyes.

“Well, I value your opinion, even if they don’t.” She was shouting over the applause now and with every one of her words the cheers got louder.

It only reinforced what she knew. She was right. They were wrong. This decision was wrong.

“Bunch of fucking dickheads,” she mumbled, shaking her head at the stupidity.

Uh, oh. She’d whispered it but, of course, she was wearing a microphone. Could the audience hear over the noise?

Judging by the looks she was getting from both the audience and the crew, they had heard.

Oh, well. What were they going to do? Fire her?

Still, she was a professional and the fans had come here today to be entertained. It was still her job to do that, one more time.

“Let’s get on with the show, shall we? And since it’s my last one, let’s make it a great one.” With another in what was to become a long hour’s worth of forced smiles, Tasha spun and stalked toward her on-stage desk, her legs shaking as she went.

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