Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Declaring war on the author I'm trying to entice to come speak isn't my finest moment, but I have no regrets. None. He's far too full of himself. He needs to be humbled, and I've got time. Actually, I don't, but I'm more than willing to clear my calendar to make his life difficult. It'll be my gift to humanity.
I'm not sure what I expect him to say in response to my declaration, but "How'd you know I'd be here today?" definitely isn't it.
"What?"
"How'd you know I'd be here today?" he repeats.
"I'm psychic." I lie. As if I'll ever tell him that Loralei told me that he comes to the library every other Wednesday. He seems like the type who would try to get her fired. "It's how I know you're constipated right now, too."
That actually catches him off guard. He blinks at me. "Uh…"
"Emotionally," I say, rolling my eyes. Jesus. Some things, no one needs to know about their favorite authors. "You're emotionally constipated. It's why you're such an insufferable ass."
He throws his head back, his rusty laughter echoing around the library. "Emotionally constipated?"
"I said what I said. Also, this is a library. You're supposed to be quiet."
"Not wanting to meet readers at events doesn't make me emotionally constipated, princess. It makes me sane," he says, snagging a book from the shelf before rising to his feet. He towers over me, but keeps a polite distance, almost as if he doesn't want to crowd me. Or maybe he's afraid I'll bite if he comes too close. Do feral authors carry rabies? Asking for a friend. "However you found me, do me a favor and forget I exist."
"Sure…just as soon as you agree to come to Book Club."
I'm not even sure I want him at Book Club anymore. But at this point, I'm willing to die on this hill, just because he's rude.
"You know stalking is illegal, right?"
"This is a public library."
"Right." He looks me up and down, with this look in his eye like he isn't sure what to do about me. He's partially annoyed, partially confused, and judging by the way his gaze keeps dropping to my boobs, maybe a little interested, too. Crap. "If you keep harassing me, I will have you arrested."
Yeah, right. Talking to someone isn't illegal.
"Fine," I retort, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I spin on my heel, retreating before that interested look in his eye goes any further. No way am I going there. Ever. Hot and grumpy, I can do. But rude and borderline insulting? Absolutely not. "I'll have you arrested for being a pain in the ass."
His lips twitch. "That's not a crime."
"It's a crime against humanity!" I call over my shoulder.
His rusty laughter follows in my wake. I hear it all the way to the front desk, where Loralei is waiting with wide eyes.
"Well?" she asks.
"That man," I growl," is the devil."
"I tried to warn you."
"Not hard enough." I massage my temples. "Can you believe he basically said that meeting readers is insane? That's so rude!"
"That is rude," Loralei murmurs. "But maybe there's a reason he doesn't want to meet them?"
"Oh, I'm sure there is. The reason is that he's an arrogant, condescending, self-important jacka—"
She slaps her hand over my mouth, muffling the insult before the whole library hears it…but the point still remains. He's insufferable. And insufferably hot.
And now, I'm at war with him.
This does not bode well for me.
Chapter Two
River
"Your editor called to confirm your meeting next week," my assistant, Samantha Goines, says, her high-pitched voice crackling over the headset. "And your publisher reached out to confirm whether you're still working on the Cladian series again."
Dammit. I forgot I was supposed to meet Alice next week.
"Add Alice to my calendar," I mutter, stretching my legs in the cramped diner booth. "And tell them yes, for the thousandth time." I pause, glancing at Samantha on my laptop screen. "Unless they ask again, and then I'll burn this fucking manuscript."
"No, you won't," she says without even batting a lash. "You'd never burn a manuscript. But I'll let them know that you're still working on it. Please send me the latest version so I can file it with the others."
"I'll do that as soon as we hang up. Thanks. Anything else?"
"Yes. Your inbox. It's a nightmare, River."
"I'll get to it."
"When?"
"Eventually."
The frustration in her heavy sigh comes through loud and clear. "Today?"
"Definitely not. I'm writing."
Some days, I wonder why she puts up with me. This is one of those days. I know I'm a pain in the ass. But Samantha has been with me for the last five years, and she never complains…much. She just handles everything that needs handling and doesn't bat a lash when I'm too buried in my next book to remember a goddamn thing I should remember—like the meeting with Alice.