Lifting my coffee to my lips, I take a tentative sip, hoping it’s cooled enough to eliminate third degree burns from my day as my phone and computer simultaneously alert me to an email. And then three more.
With a click of the mouse, I scroll through the emails coming through. Discounts for book swag, a reminder to pay my credit card bill, and a sale at my favorite store. A little online retail therapy sounds perfect, so I click on that email and drop a few shirts and a pair of skinny jeans into the shopping cart.
Not finding anything else to purchase, I finish my transaction before returning to my email. The last unopened email is from my agent. Scanning it, my heart sinks a little. Thirty days. I have thirty days to submit my next manuscript to her for submission to my publisher. She so kindly reminds me my commitment was for the first five chapters of book one in a new series.
A new series.
Another series about an uber rich man who wears expensive suits and fucks like a champ. Or, maybe I can submit something completely different. Would that be so bad?
With two clicks, I open a project I’ve been tinkering with for a year now. A sweet small-town romance. It’s one of my personal favorite tropes: best friend’s brother. I started writing this when I began this damn online dating process and secretly wished Clara had a long-lost brother I didn’t know about. Life would be so much simpler if she did.
If I can convince my publisher to approve this book, it could open up a whole world of new readers. Sure, people might prefer to read mysteries or horror books. But romance readers are different. Most of them can read a friends-to-lovers book one day and get sucked into a dark romance the next, rounding out their weekend with a sports romance. As long as it has a love story, they’re voracious readers. And if they have a voice like Hawk Weaver’s narrating, they’ll listen to a whole book in less than a day.
Hawk Weaver.
I’m still irritated I couldn’t find him. I’m even more disappointed that Adeline didn’t give me a hint as to who he is. I suppose it’s not her story to tell, but still. She could have torn herself away from her friend Todd for two minutes to give me a heads up, so I could keep my ears peeled for his voice. I guess that’s what happens when the elusive BFF shows up for his first signi—
Wait a minute.
It was Todd’s first signing.
Where he spent the day at her table promoting her books and practicing his different accents.
Which I thought was just weird but—
“Son of a bitch!” I slam my fist down on the flimsy table, rattling all the monitors with the vibrations. “Todd is Hawk Weaver!”
Dammit, I should have known better and now I’ve missed my chance to talk to him face-to-face.
With a frustrated sigh, I switch back to the window with the email, re-reading the deadline before shutting down my computer and pulling up the ride-share app. I might as well head to the airport now. With this current bout of luck, I probably need to be ready for anything.
Clicking “submit,” the app alerts me as to how long it’ll take the SUV to get to me.
Six minutes.
Here we go again.
Chapter 6
Todd
One of the perks of being my own boss is the ability to take time off whenever I want. It’s a balancing act, obviously. I can’t take advantage of it often or I won’t be the boss for long. But when Aggi hit it big, we promised to travel. Our plan was to visit every landmark and country on our very eclectic travel bucket list.
And then, it never happened. Her rise to fame happened quickly. She was saddled with deadlines and tours, scheduled by other people, almost immediately. I managed to tag along a few times, turning her work trip into my vacation. I’d always wanted to go to New York City, so I jumped at the chance to meet her there. Same with her first time in Chicago. I even went with her to Vegas. She wasn’t surprised when I ditched her for the casinos the moment we pulled up to the bookstore. I was still supporting her, just more in spirit than in person. She didn’t see it that way. Tomato, tomahto.
It was on a very long layover in Boston during my own business trip that a representative from my go-to airline tried to convince me to buy a club membership. For ninety-nine dollars a year I could get the card upgrade, bonus miles, and all the other perks. I wasn’t thrilled about the cost, but I figured “what the hell?” and filled out the paperwork. After a quick check of my credit and income verification, they decided I was worth way more to them than originally anticipated and dropped my yearly membership fee to thirty-nine dollars. Only then did I sign on the bottom line. I would have done it for the hundred bucks, but wheeling-and-dealing is my gig. Besides, who doesn’t love a comfortable couch and free wi-fi when you’re stuck in the airport? I know I prefer it over the uncomfortable metal chairs at the gate.
Although, someone at the airlines should really reconsider their lounge policies. They’d probably be floored to find out I got a last-minute round-trip ticket for less than a hundred bucks and I’m about to take advantage of the unlimited pretzels and fancy coffee before my forty-five-minute flight. I don’t think that’s what they planned for when they increased my card rewards.
Giving me the once-over as I walk through the frosted glass door, the front desk attendant gives me a tight smile as I pull my identification out of my wallet.
Yeah, yeah. I know my shirt has pineapples wearing sunglasses on them, I think to myself as I hand over my information. You’d wear it too if you knew Marcy Metrick.
Logging me into the system, the attendant’s facial expression changes. “Welcome, Mr. Chi . . . Chimi . . .”
I could let the poor girl continue to slaughter my name but instead put her out of her misery. “Chimolski.”
Her shoulders relax, and she continues. “Yes, Chimolski. Welcome. You’ll find fresh coffee and pastries in the lounge area and today’s papers near the printers in the business center. As always, our men’s locker rooms are fully stocked and available in case you need to”—her eyes give me the once over again—“change clothes.”
Shoving my stuff into my wallet and my back pocket, I smile politely. “No thank you. I’m going to get some work done.” No reason to be rude back. My mother always told me kindness was the most important thing to have when dealing with people. It hasn’t proven her wrong yet.
Nodding, she turns back to her work while I head into the lounge area. First order of business: those pastries she mentioned. I can’t very well check in with the office on an empty stomach. I left my team with three open houses this weekend, not including our regular clients. My brain needs to be powered by sugar if I’m going to keep track of all the updates.
Grabbing a cup of steaming hot caffeine, I doctor it with more sugar. Might as well go all out. Looking around for the pastries, my eye catches something else instead.
A tall, glamourous blonde who writes books for a living and looks better than any traveler should at—I glance at my watch—noon. Huh. Maybe everyone else shouldn’t look so drab while traveling in the middle of the day.
The empty seat next to her looks comfortable and inviting. Plus, I know she smells good. Since I can’t vouch for the guy sitting across the room who has that “I just got off a seventeen-hour flight” look, I’ll take my chances next to Donna.
Straightening my shirt, because nothing is worse than crooked pineapples, I saunter over to her and clear my throat. With my best Hawk Weaver voice I ask, “Is this seat taken?”
She doesn’t even look up from her laptop.
Well that’s kind of rude.
But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she didn’t hear me.
“Is this seat taken?” I say a little louder.
Still nothing. What the hell? I know she’s awake. I can see her fingers moving. She rubs the tip of her nose and glances around, finally seeing me hover over her.
“Oh!” she gasps and pulls the earbuds out of her ears. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
Glad to know she’s no
t ignoring me, I lower my computer bag to the floor and my rear to the seat next to her. “I just got here. What are you doing in the lounge? I thought Aggi said you were heading out around the same time she was this morning.”
Donna purses her plush lips and her face tinges with pink. Interesting. Donna Moreno is embarrassed about something. “Yeah. I . . . um . . . I missed my flight.”
“Oh shit. That sucks. Have you been here all day?”
“Pretty much,” she admits. “I decided standby was a better option than hanging out at the hotel for hours on end. At least here I can get some work done while I wait.”
“That’s why I don’t mind flight delays. I always seem to get more done in this lounge than I do at home.”
She furrows her brow in confusion. “How do you work . . . I mean . . . because of the noise and . . . oh geez.”
Even though she’s rubbing her temples, I’m the one who is confused now. “How do I work here? The same way you do. On my laptop. I work in real estate, I can do that from anywhere.” Settling back into my seat, I cross my arms over my chest waiting for her to continue.
“Yeah, but how much can you really get done with all the background noise.” She turns her head and nods towards the espresso machine whooshing and blowing steam.
I need more sugar. I have no idea what she’s asking me.
“Because you’re Hawk Weaver?” She says it like a question, lowering her voice so she won’t be overheard. I’m not sure who Donna’s worried about since the only other people in the room are Mr. International and the attendant who wouldn’t give me the time of day if I hit on her.
Nodding in understanding, I tamp down my frustration. Aggi promised she’d keep my identity under wraps. If this gets out . . . there’s no telling what those book nerds will do. I heard how they talked about all those audiobooks. I don’t need that kind of sexual attention in my life. Besides, I’d never know if someone was dating me for me or for my sexy ass voice.
“You aren’t supposed to know that, ya know.”
Donna bites her lip. It’s cute. Kind of makes me want to bite it too.
Dammit. I need to stop this side gig. Even my thoughts are going to the romance book fallback. Lip biting. How cliché. And hot.
“I accidentally figured it out,” Donna admits, thwarting my plans to make Aggi pay for her betrayal. “I overheard someone say you were here and then Adi, sorry I guess we can actually call her Aggi, got all flustered when I asked her, and I started thinking about you practicing your accents during the signing. It wasn’t hard to piece together.”
“Hmm. And here I thought working on the different dialects would keep me incognito.”
Donna makes a throaty sound when she laughs. I like it. “Looks like things didn’t go as planned.”
“It appears not.”
Flipping open my laptop I connect to the internet.
“But to answer your question and since you’re already a super spy who will probably figure it out anyway, no, I don’t work on the narration here. That’s just a side gig.”
“You’re not trying to make a career out of it?”
“Nope. I started doing it because I was bored and needed a hobby.”
“Wait,” she holds her hand up to stop me. “You became the most sought-after narrator in the indie book community to pass the time,” she deadpans.
I move my head back and forth indecisively. “That and I figured I might get a date or two out of it. Who can resist this sexy voice?”
Donna laughs heartily. “That’s awesome. Has it worked so far?”
“Not even close.”
This time, she bellows with laughter. “That’s so sad.”
I shrug. “I know; I’ve got a face for radio. But someday, mark my words, some woman is going to close her eyes, hear me talk, and decide I’m the one for her. Or she’ll be visually impaired, and it won’t matter anyway.”
“Ohmygod you’re so bad!” she cries out in amusement. “So self-depreciating.”
“It’s not self-depreciating. It’s finding the fun in a normal situation. Keeps life simple.”
“I could use some simplicity in my life,” she grumbles, turning back to her computer.
“Let me guess. Writer’s block?”
She shakes her head.
“Lagging sales?”
“Still nope.”
“Copyright infringements?”
She looks at me and smiles. “You sure do have the lingo down. Aggi has taught you well.”
“Hey, if you’re gonna be a good business man, you better know business.” Bumping her shoulder with mine, I continue. “But really, what’s the issue?”
She sighs and lightly taps her fingernails on the keyboard, not typing anything as much as fidgeting. “I want to write something different than my normal stuff. I’m not bored. I just want to stretch my creativity a bit.”
“So do it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not? You have a story in your head. You put it on paper. The end.”
She gives me an incredulous look, and I have a bad feeling I’m going to get the same lecture Aggi has given me more times than I can count.
“You do realize it’s kind of insulting to tell an author their job is simple, right? It takes time and energy to write a book. Not everyone can do it.”
Yep, I was right. Different words. Same lecture.
“Believe me. Your good friend Adeline tells me that all the time. Usually she follows up with a really bad attempt at punching me in the shoulder. She has a permanent bruise on her knuckles to prove it.”
Donna shakes her head at me. “It’s like talking to a standup comedian with all these one liners.”
“And my mission to bring laughter to the world is accomplished!” I raise my hands in victory, eliciting an evil glare from the attendant. Quickly, I put my arms down. I can’t afford to be kicked out of here. I haven’t gotten my free pastry yet. “Since no one around here has a sense of humor, let me rephrase. Pick a project and just do it. What’s it gonna hurt?”
She looks at me for just a second then gets a resolved look on her face. Closing her laptop, she turns to face me, determination written all over her. Suddenly I feel like a caged animal and she’s on the prowl. I’m not sure if I’m nervous or excited about where this could lead, but I don’t have to wait long to find out.
“I want you as my narrator.”
I stare blankly at her. Damn my super sexy voice and how many women want it. I bet no one ever solicits the guy who voices Mickey Mouse for their audiobooks.
“You blew me away with Effective Edge,” she continues. “Your tone. Your delivery. The sexy growl thing you do during the sex scenes.”
My eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “You think my growl is sexy?”
“So sexy.” Her eyes practically roll to the back of her head as she thinks about it. This conversation has suddenly gone from uncomfortable to super horny. Me likey.
“I want that for my books, Todd. I know you only work with Aggi, but will you at least consider it?”
“No.”
She reels back like I’ve audibly slapped her. I almost feel bad, except I’m still enjoying that she thinks my growl is sexy. That could be a country song.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t have time.”
“But you said you were bored and needed a project to master.”
“Yes, but I also have a job. A business. I narrate Aggi’s books, but that’s once every six months with her current publishing schedule. If I added any more projects, I wouldn’t have time for my actual work. And let’s face it, once word got out that I took on a new author, I’d have to switch careers, and I just got my new business cards. Five hundred cards can’t go to waste. Those trees would have died for nothing.”
Donna laughs, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I feel kind of bad when she turns back around in her chair and opens her laptop again. But not bad enough to say yes.
There�
��s so much on my plate, if I can’t say no sometimes, other things will be half-assed. There are too many people counting on me.
Still, as we silently work next to each other, waiting for our flights to be called, my brain keeps trying to figure out the timelines of the various projects I’m balancing. If I could figure out a way to work Donna in I would. Even if it was only to see that sexy eye roll again.
Chapter 7
Donna
Lying on my couch, staring at my ceiling, I’m doing my best Cher impression. Not literally. I’m fit, but only so many divas can make a black see-thru leotard and fishnets work. No, mine is more in the mantra, “If I Could Turn Back Time.” I’d start small with last month in Portland. I would have talked to Todd sooner and convinced him to work with me on my next audiobook. I’m sure if we had more time to talk than the hour in the airline lounge, I could have used my powers of persuasion to convince him. And no, by powers I don’t mean boobs. Okay, maybe I mean boobs.
Then I would have gone back to my twenty-sixth birthday and not kissed Ron on the dance floor. That kiss led to two years of chaos. He was a hell of a kisser but a shitty boyfriend. I digress.
As the narrator repeats the final words to the book, I smile and let out a long breath. It never gets old. Seeing my words on the page is one thing but hearing them spoken, the emotion surrounding me, enveloping like a warm embrace. I love it. He may not be Hawk Weaver, or Todd, but Alex Kingsford is pretty fucking perfect. He does alpha asshole billionaire sex god like nobody else. I’ll miss him when I finally get Todd on board.
Rising from my spot on the couch, I click off the audio sample on my phone and grab my laptop. My email to my agent is open with the notes I painstakingly made from the first half of the book. I really want her to be on board with this idea, so I’ve gone into more detail than normal, really driving the point home. Adding a few additional points of reference and suggestions, I click send and close the lid of my laptop.
Now what?
Writing. I am supposed to be writing. I made a deal with my assistant that I wouldn’t be on social media for three solid days. Sure, my commitment and promise was to write for those three days. In theory I could have almost half a book done in those three days. Or . . . I could watch cat videos and a few tutorials on how to properly curl my hair with a flat iron.
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