Page 33 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

“I did. I left them over two years ago after I self-published my first book, and in just a few months, I made more as an author than I did working for them for an entire year.”

“Wow. That’s incredible. Good for you, Lily,” he says, and pride like I’ve never known surges through me. “And Dean never knew?” He shakes his head like he just doesn’t believe it.

“Nope.”

His expression morphs into one that looks like he’s smelled something sour. “He is an idiot. How is that even possible?”

“As he became more self-absorbed, I became more invisible.”

He looks to the left and then back at me. “I really do hate that guy.”

“In all fairness, I’ve been here for weeks, and you didn’t know either.”

He frowns. “Touché.”

“Listen, I don’t hate him. I don’t think I ever could, but I definitely don’t like him anymore.”

He glances back down at the box. “Do you mind if I open it?”

“Nope.”

He moves to the opposite counter in the kitchen and grabs a pair of scissors out of the knife block. Carefully slicing through the packaging tape, he pulls out the filler paper to keep the books from sliding and looks down into the box.

I’d love to be in his head to know what he thinks as he looks at my books.

Slowly, he reaches in and picks up the one on the top, the first book of Thunderstone Ranch series. He looks at the cover, turns it around to read the blurb on the back, and my stomach flips over. I’m not embarrassed, I’m just a little uncomfortable wondering what he’s thinking. Most people forget that writing is an art. We authors use words to create images and tell the story. Some stories are beautiful, while others are tragic, but nonetheless, it’s a craft that takes work, heart, tears, time, and definitely thick skin.

He flips it back over, looks at the cover, and then asks the most unexpected question. “Why Thunderstone?”

“A thunderstone is a prehistoric stone tool, hand axe, or fossil that was thought to be made from lightning striking the ground. Some people believed that these stones had magical properties and were used to protect against lightning, fire, and other disasters. I kind of ran with that since Wyoming is half rock and the western side is the Rocky Mountain range. I made it a myth from the Native Americans who used to live on that land. The term was passed down throughout the generations of the family who own the ranch.”

“You just made that up?” The kitchen is bright, as it’s late afternoon and the sunlight is pouring in through the windows. I don’t really keep any lights on when he’s not here. There’s no need as I’m on my computer, and the light this afternoon has reached that golden state, making Tyler look all warm and comfortable. He looks even more familiar than normal, and it makes this conversation easier.

“Well, part of it. The story is fiction.”

“What do they do on this ranch?”

“Most ranches in Wyoming are cattle ranches. My ranch in these books is a working ranch with both red Angus and quarter horses. They also offer ‘dude ranch’ experiences in the summer.”

“You said they are romance novels? What does that mean in regard to ranching? I guess I’ve never thought much about it, but I remember those novels my mother used to read with the long-haired guys on the cover.”

I can’t help but giggle. “The ranch is the setting, and the love story is the main plot line, but it’s just one plot line. Each story has a different trendy trope that readers love like friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, single parent, things like that, but each of these stories also has a mystery plot line too. That particular one you’re holding, she’s a childhood friend who’s moved back to town to help with her family’s business. Horses keep going missing, which they ultimately figure out why, and of course they fall in love. There are a few more things, obviously, but you get the gist.”

“How did you learn about all of this? I couldn’t tell you the first thing about cattle ranching or horses.”

“Unbeknownst to Dean, Morgan and I took a trip to a dude ranch, and they helped us learn about operations, struggles, joys, all the things.”

He thinks about this and then raises one brow. “So where did you go to learn about hockey?”

I laugh. “The internet.”

“Good answer,” he says, one side of his mouth tipping up for a smile.

“What are you going to do with these?” he asks, looking back down at the others.

“Special edition covers are really popular right now. Morgan and I just designed all eight for both series. Those aren’t the original covers, and I wanted to see them before we released them into the world. I’ll sign these and then ship them back to her.”

“How do you sell these? Are you in bookstores?”