Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
In the book, the ex-cheerleader had threatened to go public with her evidence and the now-big-time NFL player had strangled her to death rather than trying to survive the scandal.
“Really?” Quaid got the sweetest, goofiest grin on his face. “I was worried it might be too obvious.”
“Not at all. I was absolutely certain it was the nerdy science guy who became a billionaire.” He’d been hiding the secret that he’d stolen the idea for his groundbreaking invention from his lab partner in high school and given the partner no credit.
Quaid nodded. “Yeah, I thought that was a pretty good red herring.”
Was he blushing? “It was good, Quaid. I couldn’t put it down. Is there a reason you haven’t published it yet?”
He was definitely blushing, and now he groaned. “I’m glad you liked it. No one else does. I’ve been trying to get those published for almost seven years now. I have over fifty lovely rejection letters downstairs in my office.”
“Why?” She wasn’t joking. She’d genuinely enjoyed the book and the setting. Quaid had done an excellent job writing what he knew—Southern Louisiana and quirky characters. “What reason do they give you? I read a lot, and that was a fun, well-thought-out mystery.”
“No one wants to take a chance on a new guy, I suspect. I’ve gotten a lot of ‘This isn’t what we’re looking for at this time.’ A lot of acquiring editors have told me they’re looking for something a little darker.”
“The humor was why I liked it so much.” Mysteries often had very dark tones, and Quaid’s lighter touch had been a welcome change.
“And some others wanted me to pump up the potential romance in order to draw in women readers,” he explained. “But I don’t think I should do that. I think I should concentrate on the mystery.”
That’s where he was wrong. “Armand is so into the police detective it hurts.”
“He is not.”
“Yes, he is. Their chemistry flies off the page, and that is the one criticism I have. It feels like you’re holding those characters back. It’s very clear they’re attracted to each other.”
“They’re professionals,” Quaid insisted. “If anything, he’s annoyed with her stubborn nature. He’s certainly not attracted to someone who annoys him.”
She stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t being very self-aware.
“You don’t annoy me that much.”
“Only because you haven’t read the latest draft of my suit.” She sipped her coffee, feeling strangely optimistic. She liked being here with him, the morning light streaming through the windows. “And I think we’re going to get to court later this week. The judge is fast-tracking us because he uses the gas station on a regular basis and he nearly had a heart attack when he saw that Geraldine had invited half the nursing home to a hot tub barbecue party in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. His secretary called and asked if we could be ready by Friday. I said yes.”
Quaid frowned. “Well, now I am very annoyed.”
Beyond optimism, she was now feeling flirty. Her confidence was coming back. Or rather showing up. She was absolutely sure she was a badass in the courtroom, but now she could see that ten years of a loveless, mostly sexless marriage had done a number on her when it came to men. “And?”
He looked her up and down, a deeply grumpy expression on his face. “Yeah, I’m still attracted.”
But he made no move on her. Had he rethought his stance from the night before? Or perhaps that moment had been a turning point and they’d missed their shot.
Or something crappy had happened to him since he’d gotten called to the jail.
“You want to talk about the call you got last night?” She moved into the kitchen, going to the refrigerator.
“I don’t think I have time to talk about it,” Quaid shot back. “I apparently have a suit to respond to.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.” She wasn’t going to push him. He could be touchy. She found eggs and butter and strawberry jam. “Do you have bread for toast? I’m thinking eggs and toast, unless you want to go over to the café.”
He reached up to one of the cabinets, opening it and pulling out a loaf of bread. “I picked up basics yesterday afternoon. It’s mostly stuff for sandwiches and some protein bars. I’m not much of a cook.”
“Then we’re lucky I’m a pretty good cook.” She pulled out the eggs and butter. “Scrambled or fried?”
“So I shut you out and you offer to cook breakfast for me?”
“You think you shut me out?” She wasn’t sure why that shocked him. “Just because you don’t want to talk about what happened last night? It’s none of my business.”
“I’ve found that women I’m involved with tend to view my silence as shutting them out.”
She chuckled. “Well, first of all, we’re not involved. We didn’t even kiss last night. You are a nice man who can’t let a colleague or her super cute dog sleep in her car.” It didn’t bother her that he’d clammed up. He could have multiple reasons for not talking about what had happened the night before. “I was merely offering to be a sounding board if you needed one. As for breakfast, I’m offering you your own food. It’s kind of a good play for me because otherwise I have to go to the café and pretend I’m not hungry because I have no money and hope someone gets tired of listening to my stomach growl.”