Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“I figured that much out once I had time to think about it.”
“You did? But….”
“My reaction was shit, and you’re right. I know your parents, so even though it shouldn’t matter—”
“You thought I was embarrassed of you,” she cuts me off, and I jerk up my chin in an affirmative. “I was actually saving you.” She sighs while picking up her cup of coffee. “I don’t even want to spend time with my parents, so I wouldn’t want to subject anyone else to them.”
“You don’t get along?”
“I’m indifferent to them. I wish I wasn’t, but the reality is they are not people I would choose to have a relationship with, but DNA didn’t leave that option up to me.”
“That sucks, babe.” It’s an understatement and something I can’t even relate to. I’m close with my family. My dad and I are tight, and my mom is still as doting as she’s always been. Then there’s my sister, who is one of my best friends even as she lives on the other side of the country.
“It is what it is.”
“Why’d you move back here then, if you guys aren’t close?”
“This was the only place that felt right when I started looking for places to move to after I decided to leave San Francisco.” She turns her back to the counter, then hops up to sit on it. “I mean, I knew I would have to see my parents at least every three months after running out of excuses to keep avoiding them, but that’s about how often I saw them when I was in California, and I survived those visits,” she says, making me chuckle. “Honestly, I probably shot myself in the foot. I’m sure, now that I’m home, they’re going to expect me to show up for their parties and whatnot, but I promised myself that I would only do things I want to do from here on out, and I refuse to break a promise to myself.”
“Good for you,” I tell her quietly.
“Thanks,” she whispers back as I grab a pan from the dish drainer next to the sink, put the bagels on it, then place it in the oven under the broiler.
“So what’s your plan for the day?”
“Umm…” She looks around. “I need to start unpacking, then I have a call with my agent this afternoon.”
“Agent?”
“For my books.” She shrugs. “She’s having a meltdown, because I haven’t given her another series idea, and my last publisher is anxious for her to pitch something new to them after my last series.”
“What kind of books do you write?”
“Science fiction.”
“Science fiction,” I repeat, unable to hide my surprise, and she raises a brow. “Sorry, I thought you’d say romance. I didn’t know you were into science fiction.”
“Well, sir, we don’t know each other, and I actually do kind of write romance. Each of my series are centered around main characters who find themselves tossed together to fight evil. Over the course of each book, they fall in love, which most of the time makes them stronger and impossible to defeat.”
“Got it.” I lean my hip against the counter. “So what are you working on now?” I ask, and my interest piques as her cheeks darken.
“I’m not really working on anything. I… I’ve just been trying to come up with an outline for my agent to pitch.”
“Have you come up with anything?” I turn to the oven and open it to check the bagels. Seeing they are a golden-brown, I grab a towel and use it to take the pan out.
“Not really,” she says, then sounds put out as she continues. “Why didn’t I ever think of using the oven to toast my bagels?”
“Probably because you’ve always used a toaster.” I grin, then mutter, “I’m also single and don’t have a toaster.”
“You don’t have a toaster?”
“Don’t say it like I’m some kind of monster. I had one when I was living with my ex, but she took it when she left, and I didn’t bother buying a new one after I realized I could just use the oven.”
“That seems very logical in guy thinking.”
“I’m just gonna pretend that’s a compliment.” I open the cream cheese, then ask, “Smoked salmon, or honey pecan?”
“Smoked salmon, please.”
As I start to slather her bagel with cream cheese, I meet her gaze. “So how do you normally come up with a new series?”
“Until now, it’s always just kind of happened.”
“I’m sure getting settled here will help.”
“Maybe,” she agrees, taking the plate I hand to her, then I watch her place the two pieces of her bagel together like a sandwich and set the plate down. After making my own bagel, I do the same, then take a bite.
“Leo still makes the best bagels.”
“His grandson actually makes them now.”
“His grandson?”
“Babe, when we were in school, Leo was pushing seventy. He retired about seven years ago. Everyone was worried his shop was going to close, but his grandson, who used to spend summers helping him in the shop, decided to move here and take over.”