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)
“And yet, here we are, waiting for the answer…”
I blink.
“Give us the answer!” she yells, setting off a chorus of chants.
“Answer us!” “Release the books!” “Give us a release date!”
“Hold on, hold on.” I raise a hand, waiting until they stop. “I’ll have our publicist come down and talk to you.”
“We already talked to her in the parking lot.” She asserts. “She fed us lies because she doesn’t know anything. Give us the release date.”
“You do know that I can call the cops on you for trespassing, right?”
“I know you won’t.” She pulls out her phone and aims it toward me. “I’m about to livestream this in front of all my followers.”
“All six of them?”
“Six million.” She hisses before hitting the red record button. “Hey Harmony Obsessives! Like I promised, we’re here at Grey Wolf Publishing to get answers for our favorite author! The CEO himself came down to give them to us.”
Before I can walk away from this shitshow, she turns the phone toward me.
“When can we expect the final book in the Wildwood Saga and when will you be releasing the next standalone office romance in her Manhattan Forever series?”
I hesitate a few moments before smiling. “Soon.”
“Booo!” “Bullshit!” “That’s not a real answer!”
I turn around and move back to the elevator bank where dozens of my employees are watching this madness.
“What do you want me to do, sir?” George asks. “Have the police get them out of here?”
“No.” I look at my watch. “They can stay.”
“It’s a fire hazard,” he says. “Their tents are blocking the side doors and that redhead has more crazies coming…”
“Give me a second.” I rub my temple. I thought George R.R. Martin fans were insane—and they are—but they keep their crazy confined to the internet.
Putting them all out, even if they kind of deserve it, would make me look even worse in the media. And even though it would probably drive up Allyson’s sales more, it wouldn’t make the release date come any sooner. It’ll just drive them even more nuts.
“Let them protest and livestream for another hour,” I say. “Then move them up to the fifth floor where we keep the romance lounge.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Have the staff serve them coffee and snacks at a discount,” I say. “Then have some editors give them some ARCs and swag every day until I have a release date for them.”
“You’re kidding…”
“Make them security badges so they can come in and out,” I say. “I’m sure they’ll want to go home and shower at some point.”
“But sir—”
“Just do it.” I part through the sea of staff and step onto the elevator, overhearing someone say, “What the hell is he about to do?”
Finally read Heather’s books…
Later that evening, I lean back in my chair with a cup of coffee and a copy of the first book in the Wildwood Saga.
The cover—a grainy picture of a forest with “Wildwood” in faint cursive—looks like she designed it on a napkin, but that hasn’t affected the word-of-mouth at all.
It’s currently ranked number five in the Kindle store. The paperback is ranked at number twelve.
Why hasn’t Heather said anything about it?
I flip the first page, vowing to only read the first chapter.
After two pages, I’m completely invested and attached, and her writing style threads itself through my chest.
I inhale the first book within hours and immediately start the second.
When I look up again, I’ve finished and the sun is rising outside my window. And I’m pissed as hell about the cliffhanger.
Now I’m just as screwed as the rest of her fans.
THE AUTHOR
HEATHER
Can I PLEASE give you an update on some of your books?
Can you at least log in and look at your ebook dashboard?
No. (You promised you wouldn’t bring up my author stuff again…)
Okay, fine. Want me to bring over some wine?
I would love that.
THE AUTHOR
HEATHER
Icancel my gym membership. Between running laps across Grey Wolf’s floors and resistance training every time Adrian Wolfson opens his mouth, I don’t need it anymore.
I also don’t have the time.
But today, I’m wishing that I’d held onto my pass for a little while longer. I would kill to sit in the sauna for an hour or soak my feet in an ice bath.
My eyes are begging me to shut them for a few minutes, and since I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out, I head down to the reading nook floor.
The hammocks are occupied, and even the hard chairs are taken.
Sighing, I try the café, but there are no spaces there either.
Despite knowing that Mr. Wolfson would lose his shit if I took a break in his office, I can’t help taking the risk.
I unlock his door and walk over to his couch.
“Ahhhh…” I exhale as my back hits the soft cushions. I pull a blanket over my body and shut my eyes.