Why did she feel like a hog being led to slaughter? “Um, thank you...”
“While the team wasn’t enthusiastic about your sales, they are open to the idea of seeing something else from you.”
Her stomach shot upward like a helium-filled party balloon. “Oh! That’s great news. It’s funny you mention that because I’ve had this other series idea brewing for months. It features a desperado-type character who arrives in a gold-mining town along the banks of the—”
Gillian shook her head. “No, kiddo. They absolutely will not entertain the idea of another western. They were wondering if you’d be willing to... make a slight genre shift.”
She couldn’t imagine what they’d want. But the thought of paying back that advance tightened around her neck like a noose. “Oh. Well, sure, I guess so. Maybe something like a mystery? I could alter the plot a bit, advance the story a hundred years—there was already sort of a suspense thread in there, so I could just—”
“No, Sadie. I guess what they’re asking for is less a shift and more of an... about-face. But I know you’re up for the challenge. I believe in you—that hasn’t changed.”
Well, that was nice to hear. Sadie searched for her familiar sunny side and smiled. “Thank you. Okay, I’m all ears. What is it they’d like me to write?”
“They’d like to see”—Gillian waved a hand, voilà style—“a romance novel!”
Sadie blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it again. “A romance novel.”
“Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back... You know the kind of thing.”
Yes, yes, she knew what a romance novel was. She was just...
“We believe you could bring something special to the genre with your emotional depth and creativity. And, Sadie, this is a genre that sells. They’re offering a one-book contract, due date of September first. I know that’s fast, but it’s a chance to earn back that advance. You’d earn out and the royalties would eventually pay off, I’m sure of it. And I have every confidence you can write a romance novel that readers would clamor for.”
Sadie had no such confidence. She’d never even read one, for crying out loud, unless you countedEl Paso.None of her Lonesome Ridge books held even the slightest whiff of romance—despite a complaint or two about that in readers’ reviews.
Romance.Her mind conjured up a dreamlike image of a couple running toward each other in a field of wildflowers, arms extended, hair flagging behind them. She envisioned the book’s cover—a shirtless man and a scantily clad woman tangled in a steamy pre-kiss moment.
Her face heated. She wasn’t the person to write this kind of novel. Or even read them. She’d had a poor example in the romantic love department. Her parents, though still together, were often at odds. She’d had a front-row seat to their roller-coaster relationship. Not exactly inspiring.
These were all valid reasons Sadie had no business writing a romance novel. But no reason was as compelling as this: at theripe old age of twenty-six and a half, Sadie Goodwin had never been in love.
Sadie spotted her best friend, four dogs in tow, on the other side of the park. Caroline’s brown hair fluttered in the wind, and as Sadie approached she realized it had been her friend’s image she’d superimposed on that hazy romantic scene she’d envisioned earlier. No wonder. Caroline was the epitome of a romantic heroine: beautiful, smart, and personable. Basically a man-magnet.
Sadie had met Caroline their freshman year at Pace University and they immediately bonded. Caroline had been born and raised in the Big Apple, where Sadie had always dreamed of living.
Upon graduation they rented an apartment in Queens. Sadie got a job at the local elementary school and Caroline managed the corner coffee shop. It was there she met the love of her life, Carlos, whom she’d married last year about the same time she started her dog-walking business.
“Milo, stop that.” Caroline tugged at the leash. “You can’t eat Honey’s collar. It’s not nice and it doesn’t taste good. Go potty, Finn. Yes, I know you haven’t—” Her eyes lit up as she spotted Sadie. “Oh, hey, you made it. How’d it go with your agent? Your text was maddeningly lacking in detail.”
She’d had the entire train ride from Manhattan to reflect, and there was no point beating around the bush. “They’re canceling my contract and I have to pay back my advance.”
“No!” Caroline enveloped her in a hug, their jackets and scarves—and four leashes with dogs attached—squished between them. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I don’t understand. Your stories are so good, and you have super reviews online, and you won thatcontest and everything. They’re crazy if they don’t want to publish you.”
Sadie waited for the commercial airliner to pass overhead before she tried to speak. “Apparently none of that matters.”
Caroline drew back, her green eyes widening. “You know what? You should self-publish the rest of the series. You could use the profits to pay back your advance.”
“If Rosewood’s marketing plan couldn’t sell my books to the masses, I doubt sticking them up on Amazon will do the trick. They did offer me another contract though—one book in a genre completely outside my wheelhouse. I can’t even entertain the idea. It’s ridiculous—they want me to write aromance novel.”
The dachshund had wound itself around Sadie’s leg, and the large black poodle was getting up close and personal with Sadie.
“Honey, no!”
“Yep. ’Fraid so.”
“No, Honey’s the dog.” Caroline tugged the leash, forcing the poodle away from Sadie. “Can we walk? They’re getting restless and I need to stimulate Finn’s digestive system because—well, long story.”
They started off at a stroll.
