Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
When the four ladies arrived, both Wes and I went to the door to greet them.
“Wes, it’s so good to see you again!” Pam said as she hugged him, the other three ladies following her in.
“You, as well.” He smiled. “Make yourself at home.”
My nerves were really on fire today, and it had nothing to do with hosting my first gathering. The ladies didn’t realize the book I’d suggested for this month’s meeting was mine. Guarded was a romantic thriller I’d written under a secret name, a pen I’d carefully selected since it had a ring similar to Ginocassi: Gina Wesley. I thought it would be fun to incorporate Wes into my pen name, too, since he’d been my biggest inspiration to start writing books after my transition from screenplays. But more than that, this book was about seventy-five percent our story with some fiction mixed in. For instance, in my book, they’d caught the person who’d shot at the heroine, whereas in reality, there’d never been an arrest for the shooting at the farmer’s market. I’d changed all the names and altered enough of the circumstances that no one could figure out that it had anything to do with Vince Ginocassi.
I’d come to trust this group’s judgment about books after years of reading together, so they were the perfect test subjects for my novel-writing debut. I was both bracing myself and eager for their feedback.
Once we got underway, Sandy read one of her favorite passages. “This novel was a little different than the bodyguard stories we’ve read in the past,” she said. “It was so much more than a romance. It had everything. Mystery, intrigue…” She sighed. “When you find out that he was actually still a cop? I mean, I didn’t see that coming. Did you?”
Pam shook her head. “Not at all. I loved every second of this one.”
I filled with pride as the discussion continued.
“The part when he wrote her that letter?” Karly placed her hand on her chest. “My heart broke for him.”
“I know,” Maria agreed. “He really never meant to hurt her. His hands were tied.”
Pam turned to Wes. “What did you think about it? What was your favorite part?”
He put down his plate. “You know… It’s hard to pick a favorite part of this one. What I’ll say is that even the hard things they went through sort of seemed necessary to get to where they end up, you know? I’m just glad it had a happy ending.” He exhaled. “Had me sweating there for a while. You know those books where you have no idea how the hell the author is gonna get her characters out of a sticky situation? Kudos to the writer for working it all out so well.” He looked over at me and winked.
I clasped my hands together and looked around the room. “Well, I’m relieved you all loved my choice.” I wished I could’ve said, be sure to leave a five-star review, but that would’ve been weird.
By three PM, everyone had gone. After Wes and I cleaned up, we still had much of the afternoon left to chill. I’d planned a surprise for him later, but it was contingent upon a UPS delivery. Our neighborhood was usually one of the last ones the delivery truck reached, so it could be as late as nine PM, or maybe seven at the earliest. I had some time to kill.
Wes threw a dish towel over his shoulder. “Want to shoot some hoops?”
“Sure.” I grinned.
I still remembered that the first time we’d visited Jersey, Wes’s mom had told me that if he and I ever lived together, we would need a basketball hoop out front. She’d said he threw himself into shooting hoops when he needed to blow off steam or work something out. Come to think of it, he’d seemed a bit anxious this afternoon. And now his suggestion that we go out and play basketball made me wonder if he was stressed about something.
“I just got a new ball,” he announced. “So it should feel nice and tight, freshly filled with air.”
“Cool.”
We took the new ball outside and threw it around for a while. Could have been my imagination, but it seemed like he was trying to let me win today. He kept missing shots and passing me the ball when it should have been his turn.
Then, at one point after he passed it to me, I froze. I couldn’t tell you why we’d been out here for ten minutes, and I was only now just noticing it. But in black ink on the ball where the logo would normally be, it said: Will you marry me?
My hands shook, and the ball bounced as it slipped from my grip. By the time I looked over at Wes again, he was a foot away from me, down on one knee.