Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
One of the most memorable to me is the first time Clive meets River. She’s shy and unassuming and even awkward at times, but there’s something about her from the start that tugs at Clive’s sensibilities. He’s never dreamed of mixing his personal life with work, but River makes the task of maintaining that boundary much, much harder.
“River Rollins, I presume?” I greet with a smile, reaching out a hand for the woman of the hour. As the new female anchor on our staff, she’s held court with just about every other employee in the building at this point.
“Yes!” she says excitedly, her smile touching the greenest part of her eyes in earnest. “That’s me. And you must be Clive Watts. I’ve heard so much about you from everyone today, I think I could draw a picture of you in my sleep.” Her words make her startle, and her eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Not that I…would…you know, do something like that. I don’t draw anything at night other than a bath. Truthfully, I’m pretty much shit artistically.”
I start to smile, start to respond, but she cuts me off with a little gasp as her hand covers her mouth. “And now I’ve gone and said ‘shit’ on my first day to my…well, my boss. So, so sorry. I promise not to curse on air.”
I smile warmly—at this point, my face is unable to consider any other expression. “That’s all right. That’s what we have Nate and the beeper for. I’ll tell him to keep one hand at the ready.”
“I don’t normally need a censor handy, I swear.”
“Really?” I ask, to which she replies with a fervent nod. My smile changes slightly, I can feel it, and yet, not even the warning can stop me from uttering my next words. “That’s a shame.”
River’s cheeks flood with a blush so pretty, I feel it in my thighs. I like it way too much. And if I give myself more time, I’d try to search for a way to make that gorgeous blush of hers grow deeper.
I’ve just met this woman, and I already feel like I can’t be trusted around her. Shouldn’t be in her orbit for more than a few seconds.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
The train squeals as the brakes engage, and I pick my head up out of the book for the first time since I opened it. It’s so easy to get lost in—so easy to fall in love with. God, I hope I can convey that to Jonah Perish properly.
I close my binder and shove it into my bag as the train slows to a stop, and I exit the car upon the opening of the doors. I have a few blocks to walk, and with a light sprinkle having just started while I was leaving my building, the last thing I need is to soak the pages of my copy of the manuscript until they’re illegible.
I could print another copy, sure, but this one is already well-read and well-loved and filled with hours’ worth of notes.
Experiencing this book for the first time—getting those notes back again—is something I’d never re-create correctly.
And that’s a much greater risk than I’m willing to take.
Despite the light sprinkle that turned into a near downpour when I still had a block left to walk to my office, I was able to make it on time.
I even managed to run into the bathroom and dry my hair and suit jacket underneath the automatic hand dryer.
But now, whether I feel ready or not, it’s time to face the music.
I step out of my office, and the glass door falls closed behind me just as my assistant’s eyes lift from her computer screen to meet mine.
Instantly, I look down the hallway, toward the conference room I can’t even see, and my heart rate kicks up about fifty notches. Realization is a son of a bitch, reminding me of what I’m about to attempt, and my stomach relocates to my throat.
Right now, I may as well be a fifteen-year-old boy with a face full of acne who is about to give a presentation to his class that just so happens to contain his crush.
Get it together, man.
And my assistant is still looking at me, most likely trying to understand why I’m just standing outside my office door.
“All right, Dawn,” I say with a deep breath as I straighten my tie in front of her desk. “Tell me I’ve got this.”
“You’ve got this,” she says immediately and dutifully…and with no enthusiasm at all.
“Dawn!” I whisper-yell.
“What?” she asks, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “I said it.”
“Say it again and mean it,” I order a little too brusquely, and then reel myself back in by softening my voice exponentially. “Please. Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”