SONGS TO GET OVER YOU (Playlist #2)
Published on Feb 29, 2016
by Jay E. Tria
Genre: Contemporary Romance
by Jay E. Tria
Genre: Contemporary Romance
SYNOPSIS:
It's harder to get over someone who was never really yours.
They say rock stars get all the girls. But Miki knows that's not always true. He, for one, though the guitarist of popular indie band Trainman, just can't seem to get the girl. It's kind of his fault, really. No one told him to fall in love with Jill. No one told him to stand still and watch as she moved on from a terrible breakup into the arms of another guy—a Japanese celebrity with the face of an angel and the body of a god.
So when someone else comes along, someone who finds him cute, smart, and funny (sometimes in the haha sort of way), will Miki finally move on? Or will he continue to pine for Jill?
They say rock stars get all the girls. But Miki knows that's not always true. He, for one, though the guitarist of popular indie band Trainman, just can't seem to get the girl. It's kind of his fault, really. No one told him to fall in love with Jill. No one told him to stand still and watch as she moved on from a terrible breakup into the arms of another guy—a Japanese celebrity with the face of an angel and the body of a god.
So when someone else comes along, someone who finds him cute, smart, and funny (sometimes in the haha sort of way), will Miki finally move on? Or will he continue to pine for Jill?
EXCERPT:
The guy on the screen was rambling while his best friend focused on wolfing down his bacon. He must have been saying something relevant to the plot of this movie; he was the lead guy after all. But the actor had grown a thick sandpaper beard to match his stringy hair that he kept raking away with his hand. And Miki was distracted.
Ana was leaning forward in her chair beside him, a cluster of wasabi-cheddar popcorn frozen in her mouth. Her palm was cupping her chin, eyes intent on the screen. At least one of them was enjoying the price of admission. There was a smidgen of salt dangling on the corner of her lip. Heaven, make me understand why girls bother with lip gloss, he thought as his thumb moved to de-salt her skin.
Ana’s head jerked towards him, but her lips curved into a smile under his thumb.
“Sorry,” Miki muttered, a little too loudly. He moved his hand back to the safety of his lap. “Salt.”
Ana’s eyes seemed to be laughing. She thrust the popcorn bag at him. “So I can return the favor,” she murmured.
Miki’s mouth inched into a small smile, glad that the darkness of the movie theater hid his rising blush. He took a large scoop of the greasy fluffs of popcorn just as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Finally. He stuffed the popcorn into his mouth and chewed as he read Jill’s reply, exactly thirty-two minutes since his last text.
“Where are you?” Miki texted back.
“Airport.”
“What time is your flight?”
“Wait. Immigration.”
Two minutes. Four.
“Done with immigration?”
“Yes but now running to”
Jill had left the text hanging, which Miki thought could only mean she was sprinting to the gate to catch her flight. Miki blamed Shinta. Wasn’t he usually prompt to the last minute? He probably exhausted the final second of Jill’s company before he drove her to the airport, or maybe they were mauled by his rabid fans at the terminal. In any case, he was sure it was Shinta’s fault that Jill was running to meet her boarding time, and if—worst case scenario—she missed her plane.
Miki growled under his breath. I’m on to you, you selfish god of a human.
Ana turned to him again. Apparently, Miki didn’t just make that sound in his head.
“You’re not liking like this movie very much, are you?” she whispered.
“Ah no, it’s not that,” he muttered, plunging his phone into the depths of his jeans pocket. He gestured at the screen with pursed lips. “I think that guy is a jerk.”
“He is,” Ana agreed. She took the popcorn bag from Miki and dunked her hand in for another handful, her attention back on the big screen.
Miki pulled his phone out again, placing his faith on auto-correct as he typed in the dark. “Did you make it? What time do you land?”
His phone lay still in his hand for an entire scene and a half of the movie. In his mind, Miki was already strangling Shinta Mori.
The phone’s vibration tickled his thigh.
“Made it,” read Jill’s text. Miki released a sigh through gritted teeth. “Never again am I going to let myself be escorted to the departure area by a frigging celebrity. Girls screaming everywhere.”
So it was the rabid fans after all. Miki scowled, thinking she should have known better, and he told her so.
“Answer my question, woman!” he demanded next. “What time does your plane land?”
“Will be back in Manila by the time you wake up from your cranky mood. Sheesh. Plane is taxiing. Have to go. Later.”
Miki glared at her message until the screen blinked off, the phone in his hand melting into the darkness.
He wasn’t being cranky. He was just being a friend. Wasn’t it normal to ask for the details of a friend’s flight? Wasn’t it normal to want to pick up a friend from the airport? To make sure she doesn’t get harassed by a lawless taxi driver? Especially since he had not seen and had hardly spoken to said friend for a week now?
Not when you’re on a date, you idiot. Nino’s voice in his head called him out. Miki ignored it, the same way he ignored Nino when he spoke the words to him—albeit a longer, more aggressive version—earlier today. Since his breakup with Suze, Nino had been running around like he knew every life hack in love. As if having been in a failed relationship and living to tell the tale made him a relationship expert.
Miki told Nino that wasn’t really the way expertise worked, but Nino swatted the argument away like an irksome fly. And now Miki was left with Nino’s words circling inside his head. He sunk deep into his seat, thinking his intentions to pick up Jill from the airport were perfectly justified, thank you very much.
“So the lead guy just died,” Ana said, her breath on his ear.
“What?”
“Yeah, a guy with an electric axe came and sliced his head off, and his limbs too for good measure in case he could resurrect. Now the girl is crying because she just found out about the morbid death of her one true love.”
Miki stared in horror at the screen. True enough, the girl was sniffing, tears flooding down her cheeks, her pretty head on the shoulder of another girl that Miki assumed was her best friend. Wasn’t this supposed to be some light, girly movie? The pink cursive font on the movie poster was cruelly misleading.
He turned to Ana as the cogs in his brain started working.
“Maybe a horror movie next time?” she said as realization dawned on his face. “It seems that would keep your attention for much longer.”
Miki wanted to punch his own face in. “I’m sorry Ana, I—”
Ana reached over and squeezed his hand, then shushed him as she returned her attention to the movie.
The lead guy was not beheaded after all, his now clean, shaven face reappearing on the screen. The girl had stopped crying.
Miki’s heart took its slow time to skip a beat at Ana’s touch. Her hand was cold; no surprise there as the theater was built like an icebox. He thought about his own numbing hands as his head registered her words, the promise of next time. He wondered if linking his fingers with Ana’s would make them both feel warmer.
Ana shifted closer and dipped her head to fit between his chin and his shoulder.
Miki sighed as his heart stuttered to an uneven beat. Ana’s arm was snug against his, but he decided against taking her hand. For one, recent history would show he didn’t deserve it.
GIVEAWAY:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Hi! I'm a writer of contemporary Young Adult and New Adult romance. These days I'm writing paranormal/fantasy too, and it's a fun exercise. I'm often inspired by daydreams, celebrity crushes, a childhood fascination with Japanese drama and manga, and an incessant itch to travel.
NEW RELEASE: Songs to Get Over You | That Thing Called Closure #WriteBreakupSongsAbout
Also by Jay: Blossom Among Flowers | Songs of Our Breakup | Majesty
Official site: www.jayetria.com
Email: jayetria@gmail.com
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Wattpad: jayetria
'Chasing an Elusive Dream' can be read exclusively on Radish. You can read Chapter 4 for free after 7 days, or purchase it with in-app coins to unlock the chapter, that's if you can't wait for 7 days. :)
Sneak Peek:
I try to get a glimpse of the clock on the bedside table, as the light hit my eyes, it says 12 AM. So, it’s just a nap for about three hours, but I feel refreshed and anew – must be the effect of this expensive mattress. As I stretch my arms and legs on the bed, I feel something warm, something like heat from a human being which is very strange. Pack shit! It isn’t a dream. The woman.I find myself beside a naked girl. I startle, I check my robe, and thank God it is still on me. Making sure she is still asleep, I slowly crawl to get off from the bed. Yet, it is a failed escape from the den, she is wide awake as she lies there looking cozy. To my surprise, she forcefully pulls me back to the bed and once again I am lying flat on it with her.“Why in a haste, Arian?” She mentions my name in very chic and sexy way; we are side by side as we look at each other’s eyes. I try to avert her gaze, but she is persistent.“Arian,” I am mesmerized by how she says my name. There’s something about her voice, I think I have heard it somewhere before. I stare blankly at her trying to remember if I have met her, but there’s no trace of memory about her. Completely unguarded because of my reverie, she’s practically over me.“What’s with you?” At last, I manage to speak. Her actions are confusing and depicting twistedness.
Read more on Radish:
Here's the cover of book 2 from the Fangirling Series, Chasing an Elusive Dream. You like it or you love it? 😍
Blurb
Dreaming has been a big help to Arian in escaping reality – her not so good reality, as what she thought it is. And now her dream is unbelievably fulfilling her wishes, but what could go wrong when you’re living a life with the one you love? In her case, nothing much, it’s just that he doesn’t want her the way she wants him. An obsessed fan as she is, will she be able to let go of Sung Bin Lee – a guy who just hates her existence?
A sequel of My Hopeless Case for #WriteBreakupSongsAbout.
You can read 'Chasing an Elusive Dream' exclusively on Radish. Download the Radish on App store (iOS only, soon on android and web) and read chapters early. You can read a chapter free after every seven days, or purchase in-app coins to unlock chapters. The full book will be published early next year or later this year.
Already prepared a full cover for prints... So, you like it or you love it? 😍
*For ages 18+ because of some languages 😊
Hi! Here's my stop of #DontForgettheParsley Blog Tour and I just got a free copy of it from Mina V. Esguerra as Amazon gift the other day. Yay for me! Hehe. So without further delay, here's the excerpt from the book and a giveaway, you might get exciting gifts from the author herself.
Available at Fully Booked
SYNOPSIS:
Marie Claire Lim Moore builds on her first memoir, Don’t Forget the Soap, offering more entertaining stories about her family in this follow up. Like her first book, Don’t Forget the Parsley is a collection of anecdotes from different points in Claire’s life: stories from her second-generation immigrant childhood in Vancouver and New York City mix with recent expat experiences in Singapore and Hong Kong where she balances multiple roles as wife and mother, corporate executive and author. Her positively Filipino parents continue to have a big influence on her whether it comes to managing family and career, meeting heads of state and world leaders or simply making new friends.
From stray observations (everything is funnier at church) and midnight anxieties (if Jessica Simpson gets to go to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, why shouldn’t I?) to life mantras (don’t let perfection hold you back) and litmus tests (would you serve drinks at my mother’s art show?), Claire’s warm and honest storytelling will resonate with readers and leave them smiling.
EXCERPT:
Don’t Forget the Parsley by Marie Claire Lim Moore
Excerpt 1: One Leg at a Time
While my father’s constant rule breaking and envelope pushing has given my mother more than a healthy level of stress, even she has to admit that the family has benefitted from his unabashed approach on at least a few critical occasions, most notable being their immigration interview for Canada.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from my father is never be intimidated by anyone. “He still puts his pants on one leg at a time,” my father will say. When I was twelve and going to my first New Kids on the Block concert, he heard me shrieking about the idea of seeing Jordan Knight in person. “No need to get so excited, the guy still puts his pants on one leg at a time.” Years later, I remember telling him that I was anxious about meeting former President Jimmy Carter on a Habitat for Humanity project. Again, “Don’t be nervous, he still puts his pants on one leg at a time.”
This non-intimidation quality of my father’s has served him well. My parents would have never made it into Canada without it. Anyone who has crossed a border knows how standoffish immigration officers can be. You can have all the documents required, you can have every reason to be there, and you may even be a citizen. It can still be a nerve-wracking event. Much more so when you’re on the brink of overstaying your visa and trying to gain entry to a new country. This was the case for my parents after they had been waiting three months for their immigration interview.
“I’m sorry, we’re going to have to decline,” the immigration officer said, closing the file. My mother stood up to leave.
“Can I ask why we’re not being approved?” my father wasn’t going anywhere.
“Unfortunately, I can’t approve your application because you don’t have enough work experience,” the immigration officer explained before standing up to end the conversation.
“But that’s a good thing!” My father put on his positive spin. The immigration officer looked very confused and vaguely intrigued. My father continued, “No experience also means no negative experience. Companies can mold me from scratch. They can train me from the bottom up.”
“This is true,” the officer conceded, “but it’s just a tough job market right now. You’ll be hard pressed to find someone who will even open the door.”
“Then I’ll knock on another door,” my father argued with conviction. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll try another. And another. Eventually I will find a company that will be thrilled to have someone like me.”
The immigration officer realized my father would not let up on this one and he needed another reason to decline. “I believe that may very well be true but the fact of the matter is that we’re just not accepting very many applicants to Vancouver at this time,” he stood up again.
My father stayed seated. “Well, how about Montreal?”
The immigration officer sat down again and opened the file. “It doesn’t say anywhere here you speak French,” he commented as he closed it and attempted to stand once more. My mother followed.
“Oui, oui! Je parle français!” my father confidently said one of the five French phrases he knew.
The immigration officer cracked a smile, “I appreciate the effort but I don’t think so. I’m sorry but I have to take the next interview.”
My mother stood for the third time as the officer did, and my father gestured for her to sit down again. “Officer, Montreal was really our first choice but we have friends in Vancouver who have been convincing us to join them. But if there are no more spaces for Vancouver, we would like to be considered for Montreal. With my skills and my persistence, I’ll be able to get a job there,” my father was convincing.
The immigration officer sighed, “Okay, let me see if I can get one of the French speaking colleagues to interview you.” He started dialing a number on his phone. My mother was horrified since she knew my father’s French capabilities or lack thereof. My father remained cool as a cucumber.
“He’s not there, let me try someone else,” the immigration officer was now dialing a series of numbers.
Then there was a knock at the door. “Excuse me, Officer. I need to send in the next interview,” said one of the assistants, peeking in.
“Alright, alright,” he responded. “I can’t reach anyone and I really have to move this along.” He stamped the documents and the rest is history.
My father always says that more often than not you have a fifty-fifty shot. His philosophy is that if one person is determining your fate, you have to give it everything you’ve got.
It’s funny, but for as much as my mother talks about my father’s confidence, they both have a healthy level of self-esteem if you ask me. I mean this in the best possible way. My mother may have been a shy Catholic schoolgirl but those nuns from College of the Holy Spirit must have known how to instill self-worth. While she was quiet and non-threatening, my mother was never insecure. Criticism rolled off her back and lit a fire within.
Several years back, I was dating someone who came from a very successful family. On one occasion, his parents invited my family over for dinner. I was excited about the idea of our parents bonding and chatting away. Unfortunately, from the moment we stepped into their home until the second we left, my boyfriend’s father was on the phone. My boyfriend’s mother, on the other hand, graciously greeted us and kept us entertained while drinks were served in the sitting room. A few times she excused herself to go upstairs and check on her husband but he never followed her back down. We continued to hear his muffled voice on the phone until finally Boyfriend’s mother said, “Why don’t we just start dinner then?”
To be honest, I didn’t think too much of it at the time. I knew Boyfriend’s father was a very busy man so I didn’t take it personally. But my mother did.
“He just had a lot of business going on, Mom. They’re working on this deal …” I defended Boyfriend’s father on the drive home.
“If it were the Queen downstairs, he would have found a way to step out and greet her properly,” my mother replied. I think it was the immigrant experience in Commonwealth Canada that makes “the Queen” a common reference in our family.
“Okay, fine,” I chuckled with resignation. “He probably would have come down to say hello to the Queen …”
“You are more important than the Queen,” she said defiantly. Justin was now roaring with laughter but my mother explained, “You are the person his son wants to marry. If you’re a father, what could be more important than meeting the family of the person your son wants to marry?”
No one could argue with that.
GIVEAWAY:
Marie Claire Lim Moore is a Filipina-Canadian-American working mother and author of Don't Forget the Soap. After spending the early part of her childhood in Vancouver, Claire moved to New York City and attended the United Nations International School. She went on to study at Yale, climb the corporate ladder at Citi and travel around the world. She met her husband, Alex, while working in Sao Paulo, Brazil and they married in Manila, Philippines shortly before moving to Singapore. Now Mom to Carlos, Isabel, and Sofia, Claire also manages the Global Client business for Citi in Asia.
Claire is regularly ranked among leaders in the Asian-American professional community and her experiences have been written about in The New York Times, USA Today, Smart Parenting, Good Housekeeping and People Asia. She enjoys juggling her thriving career and growing family, fundraising for Filipino community events and promoting work-family balance for women through her talks as well as her writing. Previous speaking engagements have been hosted by Standard Chartered Bank, The Financial Women's Association of Singapore, and MasterCard Asia.
In 2014, Claire received the 100 Most Influential Filipina Women in the World Award™ (Global FWN100™) that recognizes Filipina women who are influencing the face of leadership in the global workplace, having reached status for outstanding work in their respective fields, and who are recognized for their leadership, achievement and contributions to society, female mentorship and legacy. Claire is also featured in women's empowerment expert Claudia Chan's Remarkable Women Series along with female role models Arianna Huffington, Tory Burch and Zainab Salbi.
Don't Forget the Parsley ( a sequel to Don't Forget The Soap)
Launch Feb 15, 2016
by Marie Claire Lim Moore
Genre: Non-fiction memoir
Launch Feb 15, 2016
by Marie Claire Lim Moore
Genre: Non-fiction memoir
Available at Fully Booked
SYNOPSIS:
Marie Claire Lim Moore builds on her first memoir, Don’t Forget the Soap, offering more entertaining stories about her family in this follow up. Like her first book, Don’t Forget the Parsley is a collection of anecdotes from different points in Claire’s life: stories from her second-generation immigrant childhood in Vancouver and New York City mix with recent expat experiences in Singapore and Hong Kong where she balances multiple roles as wife and mother, corporate executive and author. Her positively Filipino parents continue to have a big influence on her whether it comes to managing family and career, meeting heads of state and world leaders or simply making new friends.
From stray observations (everything is funnier at church) and midnight anxieties (if Jessica Simpson gets to go to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, why shouldn’t I?) to life mantras (don’t let perfection hold you back) and litmus tests (would you serve drinks at my mother’s art show?), Claire’s warm and honest storytelling will resonate with readers and leave them smiling.
EXCERPT:
Don’t Forget the Parsley by Marie Claire Lim Moore
Excerpt 1: One Leg at a Time
While my father’s constant rule breaking and envelope pushing has given my mother more than a healthy level of stress, even she has to admit that the family has benefitted from his unabashed approach on at least a few critical occasions, most notable being their immigration interview for Canada.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from my father is never be intimidated by anyone. “He still puts his pants on one leg at a time,” my father will say. When I was twelve and going to my first New Kids on the Block concert, he heard me shrieking about the idea of seeing Jordan Knight in person. “No need to get so excited, the guy still puts his pants on one leg at a time.” Years later, I remember telling him that I was anxious about meeting former President Jimmy Carter on a Habitat for Humanity project. Again, “Don’t be nervous, he still puts his pants on one leg at a time.”
This non-intimidation quality of my father’s has served him well. My parents would have never made it into Canada without it. Anyone who has crossed a border knows how standoffish immigration officers can be. You can have all the documents required, you can have every reason to be there, and you may even be a citizen. It can still be a nerve-wracking event. Much more so when you’re on the brink of overstaying your visa and trying to gain entry to a new country. This was the case for my parents after they had been waiting three months for their immigration interview.
“I’m sorry, we’re going to have to decline,” the immigration officer said, closing the file. My mother stood up to leave.
“Can I ask why we’re not being approved?” my father wasn’t going anywhere.
“Unfortunately, I can’t approve your application because you don’t have enough work experience,” the immigration officer explained before standing up to end the conversation.
“But that’s a good thing!” My father put on his positive spin. The immigration officer looked very confused and vaguely intrigued. My father continued, “No experience also means no negative experience. Companies can mold me from scratch. They can train me from the bottom up.”
“This is true,” the officer conceded, “but it’s just a tough job market right now. You’ll be hard pressed to find someone who will even open the door.”
“Then I’ll knock on another door,” my father argued with conviction. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll try another. And another. Eventually I will find a company that will be thrilled to have someone like me.”
The immigration officer realized my father would not let up on this one and he needed another reason to decline. “I believe that may very well be true but the fact of the matter is that we’re just not accepting very many applicants to Vancouver at this time,” he stood up again.
My father stayed seated. “Well, how about Montreal?”
The immigration officer sat down again and opened the file. “It doesn’t say anywhere here you speak French,” he commented as he closed it and attempted to stand once more. My mother followed.
“Oui, oui! Je parle français!” my father confidently said one of the five French phrases he knew.
The immigration officer cracked a smile, “I appreciate the effort but I don’t think so. I’m sorry but I have to take the next interview.”
My mother stood for the third time as the officer did, and my father gestured for her to sit down again. “Officer, Montreal was really our first choice but we have friends in Vancouver who have been convincing us to join them. But if there are no more spaces for Vancouver, we would like to be considered for Montreal. With my skills and my persistence, I’ll be able to get a job there,” my father was convincing.
The immigration officer sighed, “Okay, let me see if I can get one of the French speaking colleagues to interview you.” He started dialing a number on his phone. My mother was horrified since she knew my father’s French capabilities or lack thereof. My father remained cool as a cucumber.
“He’s not there, let me try someone else,” the immigration officer was now dialing a series of numbers.
Then there was a knock at the door. “Excuse me, Officer. I need to send in the next interview,” said one of the assistants, peeking in.
“Alright, alright,” he responded. “I can’t reach anyone and I really have to move this along.” He stamped the documents and the rest is history.
My father always says that more often than not you have a fifty-fifty shot. His philosophy is that if one person is determining your fate, you have to give it everything you’ve got.
It’s funny, but for as much as my mother talks about my father’s confidence, they both have a healthy level of self-esteem if you ask me. I mean this in the best possible way. My mother may have been a shy Catholic schoolgirl but those nuns from College of the Holy Spirit must have known how to instill self-worth. While she was quiet and non-threatening, my mother was never insecure. Criticism rolled off her back and lit a fire within.
Several years back, I was dating someone who came from a very successful family. On one occasion, his parents invited my family over for dinner. I was excited about the idea of our parents bonding and chatting away. Unfortunately, from the moment we stepped into their home until the second we left, my boyfriend’s father was on the phone. My boyfriend’s mother, on the other hand, graciously greeted us and kept us entertained while drinks were served in the sitting room. A few times she excused herself to go upstairs and check on her husband but he never followed her back down. We continued to hear his muffled voice on the phone until finally Boyfriend’s mother said, “Why don’t we just start dinner then?”
To be honest, I didn’t think too much of it at the time. I knew Boyfriend’s father was a very busy man so I didn’t take it personally. But my mother did.
“He just had a lot of business going on, Mom. They’re working on this deal …” I defended Boyfriend’s father on the drive home.
“If it were the Queen downstairs, he would have found a way to step out and greet her properly,” my mother replied. I think it was the immigrant experience in Commonwealth Canada that makes “the Queen” a common reference in our family.
“Okay, fine,” I chuckled with resignation. “He probably would have come down to say hello to the Queen …”
“You are more important than the Queen,” she said defiantly. Justin was now roaring with laughter but my mother explained, “You are the person his son wants to marry. If you’re a father, what could be more important than meeting the family of the person your son wants to marry?”
No one could argue with that.
GIVEAWAY:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Marie Claire Lim Moore is a Filipina-Canadian-American working mother and author of Don't Forget the Soap. After spending the early part of her childhood in Vancouver, Claire moved to New York City and attended the United Nations International School. She went on to study at Yale, climb the corporate ladder at Citi and travel around the world. She met her husband, Alex, while working in Sao Paulo, Brazil and they married in Manila, Philippines shortly before moving to Singapore. Now Mom to Carlos, Isabel, and Sofia, Claire also manages the Global Client business for Citi in Asia.
Claire is regularly ranked among leaders in the Asian-American professional community and her experiences have been written about in The New York Times, USA Today, Smart Parenting, Good Housekeeping and People Asia. She enjoys juggling her thriving career and growing family, fundraising for Filipino community events and promoting work-family balance for women through her talks as well as her writing. Previous speaking engagements have been hosted by Standard Chartered Bank, The Financial Women's Association of Singapore, and MasterCard Asia.
In 2014, Claire received the 100 Most Influential Filipina Women in the World Award™ (Global FWN100™) that recognizes Filipina women who are influencing the face of leadership in the global workplace, having reached status for outstanding work in their respective fields, and who are recognized for their leadership, achievement and contributions to society, female mentorship and legacy. Claire is also featured in women's empowerment expert Claudia Chan's Remarkable Women Series along with female role models Arianna Huffington, Tory Burch and Zainab Salbi.
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