CHAPTER ONE
JADE
“The moment he walked into the room, everything else seemed to fade away. How strong was the presence of a stranger—yet he wasn’t a stranger at all... he never truly was.” - Clara Foss, Painted Inferno
My soft pink, manicured nails tap rhythmically against the mahogany top of my desk. My heart thrums against my ribcage, a bit erratic and uneven as I stare back at my agent, Meredith, through the screen. Her lips are moving, but I am no longer focused on anything she is saying.
One sentence hangs heavily in the air, settling around me, the weight astronomical.
“They’re going to drop you if we can’t come up with something else fast.”
The worst words any author wants to hear in regards to a publishing contract. At the ripe age of twenty-nine, I have managed to stay on a steady schedule, pumping out four books a year for one of the biggest publishing houses in the country.
My first deal with them fell into my lap by the grace of God. I met my agent through a mutual friend and she was immediately interested in my debut romance novel. It was something Iworked on while in the trenches of college, mainly because I loved to write and was dragging my feet on what I wanted to major in.
I ended up majoring in English Lit and had my first book deal secured before graduation.
“Jade.”
The stern sound of her voice snaps me out of it, forcing me back into the moment.
“Sorry.” I let out a deep, ragged breath, shaking my head. I twist my lips to the left, biting down on the inside of my cheek. While my brain went on a side quest, it had to have miraculously retained at least one word Meredith said.
She arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “So, what do you think?”
Heat spreads across my cheeks and I nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. “I—uh—I didn’t catch everything you said. You kept freezing.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Inspiration has been fleeting lately, and so is my attention span. This is an extremely important conversation with Meredith that deserves my undivided attention.
But all I can think about is how the hell did I end up here?
“No worries,” she says, offering me a polite smile, although her tone has an iciness to it. “I was saying, instead of circling around the same projects that are giving you trouble, put them aside. Take the next week or two off and find your muse. Find it, wrap your fingers around it, and hold onto that motherfucker.”
I chuckle softly, my shoulders relaxing, just in the slightest, as Meredith’s expression warms. “Say I find my muse and choke it—I mean hold onto it, very tightly.” I smirk. “Then what?”
“You know your editor, Nina, trusts you to put out a quality book that will have readers flocking to their nearest bookstore assoon as it drops. The publisher knows you’ll make them money, we just need a concrete idea. One you can follow through with, preferably.”
They want a new romance from me and every idea I have been trying to write isn't working. It all feels like the same recycled bullshit. Rinse and repeat. Boy meets girl, they get close, they fall in love, the end. Unproblematic and sweet.
About as boring as my current life.
Even the break-up I went through a few years earlier didn’t affect my writing mojo like this.
“Just unplug. Go to a yoga class or meditate or some shit. Anything to get your mind off of this spiral you’re trapped in.” She stares at me through the computer screen. I love Meredith, she is a shark of an agent, but sometimes she scares me. “You can do this, Jade. You are capable and your success can attest to it.”
Emotion lodges in my throat. I swallow hard, pushing it deep down inside, tucking it back into Pandora's box. I am not going to risk having another breakdown on camera with my agent. She didn’t take me on as a therapy client. We both have jobs to do and I am the one not holding up my end.
If only I could go back in time and tell bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Jade that the pressure of producing and being creative could be crippling.
“I have to head off for another meeting, but we’ll chat toward the end of next week, okay?”
“I don’t know what to write,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips. It’s not news.
Meredith is silent for a moment. “Let me think of some ideas and you do the same, then we’ll see what we can come up with on our next call.” She rolls her wrist, her eyes flicking down to her watch. “Gotta run. Bye, Jade!”
Meredith’s face disappears and relief immediately floods me. I lean back in my seat, my body relaxing against the back of the chair. I push my fingers through my long hair, my nails running along my scalp. Tilting my head back, I gaze up at the white ceiling and push my feet against the floor to slowly spin in circles.
What a trend that has become recently.
