Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Why didn’t you hire Miss Barrett?
Personal reasons. Plus she owes us money. Seems counterintuitive.
Also, you AND Theresa are forbidden from signing off on any seven-figure deals without me from here on out.
Hire Miss Barrett, or I’ll quit.
You would never.
I can’t keep managing a short-staffed team and expecting to deliver high-level results.
Then hire more people.
You know what I realized this morning?
That I hate text messaging. Will you stop now?
I have enough paid time off to take the next six months off, and last time I checked I’m not replaceable.
Fine. I’ll hire her.
DO IT NOW.
THE AUTHOR
HEATHER
The following Monday
Thank you for attending orientation & welcome to Grey Wolf Publishing!
The banner still hangs over the balloon-decorated floor as I smooth my new employee badge and step into the elevator. When the doors slide open on the marble floor, I tuck a folder under my arm and grip the map, trying not to look as lost as I feel.
“Uh-uh, no!” A man in a rumpled button-down and scuffed loafers steps into my path. “Don’t go up there yet.”
“Why not?”
“I’m Liam from Editorial.” He shifts the folder from under my arm, flipping it open like it’s his. “You’re the new junior exec, right?”
“Um… yes.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
He uncaps a highlighter, dragging it across a few lines in my contract.
“Here’s the deal. Never go to the top floor on Monday mornings unless the Wolf summons you.”
“My office is on the main floor—”
“Are you trying to survive or not?”
“I am.”
“Good. Mondays, no top floor. You go straight to marketing. Pull ten of the books. Make promo plans before he asks—because he will ask.
“Then, around ten, go up. He’ll give you a list that has to be finished by lunch. Hand it off to the interns.
“And bribe them with coffee gift cards if you actually want help.”
“So… are Tuesdays normal?”
He gives me a flat look. “Start recording.”
My office is the size of two prison cells, but it comes with a view of the city and a plush pink chair in the corner. It’s also—unfortunately—an offshoot of Mr. Wolfson’s office, so I have to walk through his space to get to my own.
Thankfully, I haven’t seen him yet today, and the only hint of his presence is a neatly handwritten note on my desk.
Miss Barrett,
You can spend your first day by helping with the promotional work for the authors who actually turn in their work on time.
Meet the senior editorial team on the fifth floor. Suite 765.
Try to learn something.
Adrian Wolfson
I hold back a scream and head down to the designated floor. When I make it to suite 765, Mr. Wolfson is standing at the center of the room, addressing a few employees.
Even from across the room, my body betrays me at the sound of his voice—and the way he manages to weaponize a dark grey suit.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Miss Barrett,” he says. “I was beginning to wonder if I should call 9-1-1.”
“I just saw your letter.”
The room falls silent and they all turn to look at me as if I’m the asshole.
I look up, pretending to be fascinated with the ceiling tiles.
“Anyway,” he says, “Editorial team, meet the new junior marketing executive, Miss Barrett. Miss Barrett, meet the team who you’ll be working with on Mondays and Tuesdays.”
“Nice to meet you all.” My gaze is still on the ceiling.
“We have twenty books that start pre-launch campaigns next week, twenty that will release next month, and fifteen guaranteed bestsellers that need to be pushed harder than ever before their pre-orders expire,” he says. “So, don’t let me down.”
As if that’s code for “run off and do things,” they all scatter—leaving me standing alone.
Confused, I move closer to him and clear my throat.
“I hate to ask you anything, Mr. Wolfson,” I say, “but it is my first day, so…”
“So what, Miss Barrett?”
“So, what exactly should I be doing to ‘not let you down’?”
“Staying out of my sight so I can focus is a start.”
“What?”
“I said, you can alphabetize shelves of the upcoming advance copies, make warm calls to our list of fifteen hundred influencers regarding upcoming promo packages, and—” he places his cup of coffee in my hand, “see to it that an intern keeps a fresh one in my hand. I’ll take it out on you if they don’t.”
“That is not what you said at first.”
“I like your hair up like that.”
“That’s also not what you said…”
“I’m offering you a compliment, Miss Barrett,” he says. “You look sexy as hell today.”
My cheeks flush red, and I can’t think of how to respond to that.
He looks like he wants to say more, but he walks away without another word.
I pull out my notebook to jot down all the things he spouted off, and then I make a mental note to make friends with as many interns as possible. As I’m finishing my list, my phone vibrates in my pocket.