My best pal, Liz, would say Matty's being obnoxious because that's what thirteen-year-old boys do best, but I know the real reason he's been dissing me more than one spoiled socialite to another: Matty's itching to nail a part in the movie I just signed on to, which is currently known around town as The Untitled Hutch Adams Project (or as Variety dubbed it, 'Hutch Adams's next surefire blockbuster'). 'That's what this is about? Another Kaitlin cover?' Matt rolls his emerald green eyes that match mine. Matty pushes through the group and looks at the magazine in Laney's airbrush-tanned hands. My mom, dad, and younger brother are breathing down Laney's neck before my sunglasses are even pushed onto my nose.

'Nothing,' I lie, putting on my oversized black sunglasses to hide my guilty look that says, 'I was making out with my boyfriend instead of memorizing lines.' 'What's wrong with you?' she asks suspiciously, pointing a ruby red manicured finger in my direction. Laney must smell weakness because she stops in front of my chair and squints her dark-as-coal eyes at me. All I can remember right now is how good Austin's coconut-scented sunblock smelled when his face was nuzzled into my neck. 'What food chain? Were we supposed to have lunch today?' I'm feeling disoriented from the marathon kissing session that Laney just interrupted. He quickly jumps on the empty chaise next to me and tries to look like he's been busy worshiping the sun. It takes exactly two seconds for Austin and me to realize that we're being ambushed. Laney's pale blond hair, recently colored the exact shade she was born with, flies behind her as she strides ahead carrying a thick, glossy magazine. 'KAITLIN BURKE, YOU'RE BACK ON TOP OF THE HOLLYWOOD FOOD CHAIN WHERE YOU BELONG!' My publicist, Laney, loudly bursts through our living room French doors over to the pool area with my excited entourage in tow. Only one thing could cause this much commotion on a beautiful, eighty-six-degree Saturday morning in Southern California-and it's not an earthquake. The sound is unmistakable as it rises in decibel, frightening the blue jay that is drinking from the Italian marble birdbath and causing our new landscaper, Joe, to drop his gardening hose. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. A Sneak Peek of Family Affairs (Secrets of My Hollywood Life)

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