Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Full hips?
Jesus, what were they? A glass of water?
‘He hadn’t seen her face, but he was sure he’d recognise her wavy dark hair and tempting curves anywhere.’
Curves.
Like she was Betty fricking Boop and not a slightly overweight woman.
My curves were not where Betty Boop had them, let me tell you. They were the extra bit of oomph on the upper arms, the dedicated rubbing of my upper thighs, and the little stomach pouch that, somehow, plus-sized models never seemed to have on websites.
I know, I know. I was really selling the curvy girl life, huh?
Ugh.
This was a nightmare.
There were so many words I’d use to describe myself—fluffy, chunky, soft, cuddly—that other people perhaps wouldn’t like. It made it difficult to describe my heroine. I didn’t want to upset or offend anyone because weight was such a touchy issue.
I buried my fingers in my hair, dropping my head, and groaned. Maybe I’d have to send this to both my agent and my editor for their input and move on. I’d already established that my heroine was a bit of a bigger girl earlier in the book, and it was in the proposals, so I was going to leave it to their expert opinion.
Once I’d finished the chapter, of course.
I blew out a heavy breath and let my fingers take control. They glided over the keyboard, writing the scene of how he toyed with speaking to her until he ultimately gave in and casually walked past, introducing himself. He left out his title, much like Max had done with me, and he got to meet her cat.
Yes, it did occur to me that I was romanticising my initial interaction with Max and that this was not healthy behaviour, but the muse wanted what the muse wanted.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d ever read this. He didn’t strike me as a romance kind of man.
And if Esme read it…
Well, I’d be long gone by the time that happened, so it was fine.
I’d probably have to move, though. And change my number.
I paused.
Sod it, I was going to roll with it.
I finished up the chapter and saved a copy of the document, along with the one that had my discarded paragraphs in. After attaching them both to an email directed to both my agent and editor with my concerns, I shut down my laptop and pushed back my chair.
I was going to take a bath and pretend that Max did not exist in my world.
Real or fictional.
CHAPTER NINE
MAX
That Fucking Cat Woman
Ellie’s fucking cat was going to be the death of me.
She could swear blind that she was closing and locking all the windows and doors, but she clearly wasn’t. There was no way that cat was escaping without an easy route unless he’d dug an escape with his own two paws.
Hell, maybe he had.
I’d swung by the lodge before I’d headed back to the house, and she hadn’t been lying. All the windows and doors were shut. Granted, she might have closed them before she’d gone hunting for him, but I wasn’t sure.
I was no cat expert, but even I knew that you always left a window open for them to come back in when they escaped.
The fact she hadn’t done that said a lot.
Unless she was just trying to convince me that she had no idea how he escaped.
Shit, I didn’t know.
I did know that the cat had some kind of magical power that allowed it to circumvent her attempts to keep it inside.
It was the weirdest damn cat I’d ever come across.
I boiled the kettle and pulled my phone out of my pocket right as Edward walked in. “Morning, Edward.”
“Good morning, Max,” the older man said with a smile. “Did you enjoy your run?”
“I’ve had better ones. The tenant’s cat escaped again.”
“Ah. Ellie, isn’t it? Sit down, I’ll make that for you.”
I knew better than to argue with him.
“Yes, that’s her name,” I confirmed.
“I thought I saw you with a young lady yesterday morning. I assume that was her?”
I nodded.
“Sam hasn’t stopped talking about her ever since your grandmother said she was coming to stay. She loves her books, but she’s too nervous to introduce herself and ask for her to sign her paperbacks.”
My lips tugged to one side. Samantha, his wife, and my grandmother got on like a house on fire—and their opposing personalities were exactly why. “You won’t be surprised to hear that Grandma went over there the day after she arrived and invited her to the book club next week. Why doesn’t Sam go?”
“I don’t have the money to bail her out of prison when she kills May.” Edward’s brown eyes twinkled with silent laughter as he set a cup of tea down in front of me.
“Ah. I forgot about their long-running feud.”
“I don’t think they know why they’re still arguing,” he continued. “Lord knows I don’t.”