Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I sucked in a deep breath as relief rushed through me. When I glanced over at Locke, he grinned and nodded his head once. He was quieter, but he had been feeling it as hard as I had. For Bane’s sake mostly.
Gathe turned around, his eyes slightly shimmering with emotion. “I swear I might fucking cry,” he said as he laughed.
My phone buzzed as other phones began to ring and go off.
Shakespeare: Congratulations!
Me: Thanks. Sorry you lost money. Ask me next time before you go throwing money on a horse.
Shakespeare: Oh, I might have fibbed a little about that.
Smirking, I replied.
Me: So, you didn’t bet on a horse.
Shakespeare: No, I did. But I bet on Stolen. I’ll be buying myself the Louis Vuitton I’ve had my eye on for the past month. I work too hard to toss my money out on a horse just because it’s pretty.
Me: And why did you pick Stolen?
I asked even though I had an idea I already knew.
Shakespeare: You’re the reason I started betting on horses. Might as well bet on the ones that are connected to you.
I stared down at her words, liking them entirely too much.
Forge slapped me on the back as he walked past me. “Come on, man! Skinny-dipping in the pool. No one tell Bane.”
I glanced up and nodded, although I wasn’t feeling like it. I’d rather go back to my room and text with Noa. Admitting that had me turning and heading for the patio door. I wasn’t looking at my phone again tonight.
Boundaries, Ransom. You need to set some mental fucking boundaries.
Eleven
Noa
Chewing the tip of my pen, I stared down at the notes I’d written. My block was just getting worse. It wasn’t like I could scrap forty thousand words and start over. Those had been hard words. The struggle with this one was real.
My eyes shifted to my annoyingly silent phone. It had been that way for three days. Since the Breeders’ Cup race.
Sure, other people had called or texted. Jellie did both. My editor texted, and the random spam calls came in, but not one text from Ransom. And let’s be honest here—that was who I was talking about. I shouldn’t have said I bet on horses because of him. I’d probably weirded him out. He was afraid I’d gone stalker girl or something.
This was not helping my current writing dilemma. I had a book to finish and staring at the screen was getting me nowhere.
Maybe I should text him. No. I’d sent the last text, and he’d not responded. I wasn’t going to send another until he said something first.
Groaning, I threw my abused pen and dropped my head into my hands. I shouldn’t have taken the advance before this was written.
Bad advice, Arden. Bad freaking advice.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the pressure. I could give the money back and then try to write it.
Did they let you do that? My agent would flip out. She’d already gotten her cut. Probably would have to return her portion myself. My eyes scanned the room. Yep, couldn’t do that. I’d bought this place, and I needed the money to live on until this one was published.
“Ugh!” I shouted, leaning back in my chair and staring at the ceiling.
I needed more Twizzlers.
The ringing of my phone wasn’t the sound I wanted to hear. It wasn’t a text alert. Glaring over at it, as if it were the phone’s fault, I saw Jellie’s name and reached to answer, pressing speaker so I didn’t have to actually pick up the phone.
“Hello?” I said, waiting for the sound of her always-chipper voice.
“Am I interrupting your writing?” she asked, sounding cautious.
“I wish.” The frustration was clear in my tone.
“Uh-oh. Still got writer’s block?”
“Yep,” I replied with a pop of my lips. “Tell me something good. I need it.”
She blew out a breath, and I knew she was thinking about a positive tidbit to share.
“Oh! I don’t have cavities!” she said with fake excitement.
I laughed. “That’s good, but now you don’t get to go to the hot dentist for another six months.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “What about the fact that I didn’t eat the entire container of icing last night, watching season five of Grey’s Anatomy? You know, George getting hit by the bus gets me every time.”
I grinned up at the ceiling. “How many times have you watched that series?”
“I hear judgment in your tone, and I was telling you something good!”
“Okay, fine. You are a warrior.”
“What do you think is blocking you this time?” she asked me.
“I do not know. The others came out so fast. I think maybe the advance.”
“You got an advance last time.”
“That was after I wrote the first one and the story just poured out of me. This one isn’t.”
“Hmm,” she replied, and we both sat there in silence for a few moments. “What was it that you loved so much about the other couple’s story?”