Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I deadpan. “So just stand there and look pretty?”
Caroline chuckles. “If you can manage, that’d be great.”
“Um… all right,” I say, looking around. “Are we doing it here at my house?”
“Actually,” she drawls with a coy smile, “I was hoping maybe you could show us around the area. Maybe we could hop in your truck and head back into town?”
“Ah,” I say with a knowing nod. “You’re going to lean into the country-boy aspect.”
“It’s why we want you,” she replies with no apology in her voice. “The fact that you’re a small-town guy is what makes you marketable.” She waves at my house. “Your place is beautiful, but we don’t want that to be the focus.”
“Fair enough,” I reply. “But I make no apologies for Floyd if we run into him.”
“Who’s Floyd?” Chris finally pipes up.
“Just the town eccentric. He’ll make for great TV.”
Caroline looks positively delighted. “Excellent. Shall we get started?”
While Chris gets his camera equipment out of the trunk, I take my coffee cup inside to rinse out and pull on a pair of cowboy boots. I grab my keys and load everyone in my extended cab truck.
To my surprise, a camera’s been mounted to the passenger dash, pointed to record footage of me talking as we drive. Caroline explains we may or may not use it and to just “act natural.”
We start down the two-lane road that cuts through the heart of the country, heading toward Whynot. The sun’s just high enough to turn everything gold and I assume my usual position of one hand on the wheel with the opposite elbow propped on the center console.
Caroline’s got her notepad out, pen hovering. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself, Sam?”
I give her the general info, which isn’t a whole lot. It takes no more than a minute to tell her about my journey from Whynot to Chapel Hill for two years of college and back to Whynot to bartend while I wrote.
“And why did you keep it secret?” Carolina asks.
I shrug. “Honestly… I never thought anything would come of it. I was writing for myself because I loved it and it didn’t seem important to share.”
“But then you sort of blew up,” she says, checking her notes. “Three best-selling titles, thousands of adoring fans. And now you’ve decided to go public.”
I glance in the mirror at Derek, who’s surfing his phone, and Chris, who’s watching the countryside roll by. “Yup. Figured it was time to embrace that this is my career.”
“What’s it like living in a place that just found out you’re famous?”
“Equal parts flattering and terrifying,” I say.
“Terrifying?” she asks, her interest piqued. “I’d think you’d be somewhat of a hometown hero.”
I consider how to answer, because I don’t want to get into town politics. I don’t want anyone to spin anything about my town in a negative way, even though there are some who are very unhappy with me and what I write.
I glance in the mirror again at Derek, his attention now on me. I can see that he wants me to reveal to her that I’ve been boycotted by the church ladies. He knows this will make for excellent exposure, but I give a slight shake of my head and a glare that insists he keep his mouth shut.
“It’s been a bit of a surprise to everyone here, but for the most part, folks have embraced my work. They treat me mostly the same, except now I get unsolicited book ideas.”
She laughs, jotting notes. “Why romance?”
I think for a second. “Because it’s the only thing people haven’t figured out how to fake.”
That earns a small smile and she glances out at the rolling farmland. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Nowhere like it in the world, in my opinion.”
“And do you ever wish you lived somewhere bigger?” She angles in her seat to face me. “With your new fame and money, you could live anywhere.”
That’s right. I could live in Washington, DC, for example. “If I did, I’d just end up writing about here anyway.”
She studies me like I’m a quote she wants to underline. “You realize that’s the kind of thing that makes middle America fall in love with you, right?”
“Guess we’ll test the theory.”
Caroline nods and thumbs at the window. “Chris… we need to get some of this rural footage.”
“Roger that,” he says.
I spot something up ahead—a blue truck pulled over on the side of the road with hazard lights blinking. I recognize Eli Hart, leaning over the bed and rooting around in his large toolbox. I see several hive boxes back there as well, strapped down for transport.
“No time like the present,” I say as I put on my turn signal to indicate I’m going to pull off the road.
This gets Caroline’s attention as I ease in behind Eli. “You know him?” she asks.