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)
He nodded.
“When you’re in that position and have something to offer other people, you’re an easy target.”
“What happened to her? The other author you were friends with?”
I picked up my glass of wine and sipped to hide my smile. “She was sued for plagiarism last year and got dropped by her publisher.”
“Did she do it?”
“Oh, yeah. Readers on social media are the most voracious, observant people, and it didn’t take them long to compile an online dossier of all the comparisons. She used a lesser-known self-published author and thought nobody would notice. What she failed to realise is that readers don’t care how many bestseller tags you have to your name—they care about what’s inside the book.”
He bobbed his head slowly. “She’s a nice person, then.”
“The sweetest,” I drawled.
His lips tugged to one side, and he took the tiniest sip of his wine. “You look like you’re enjoying that.”
“Enjoying is a strong word.” I paused. “I… think it’s a classic example of karma.”
“What happened after? Did she settle or go to court?”
“I think she’s going to court, actually. Last I knew, she was trying to claim a ghost-writer was responsible for it.”
“That’s a weak defense.”
“Indeed. Originally, she said her book was written first so there was no way it could be plagiarism, but I think the publisher had to get involved to show the delivery dates of the manuscript, so she changed her story.”
Max clicked his tongue. “And here I thought publishing was boring.”
“Boring? Publishing? No way. It’s filled with drama and self-loathing and regular bouts of crying into a tub of ice-cream you probably should have put down twenty minutes ago.”
“Wouldn’t it have melted after twenty minutes?”
“No. Because you’ve eaten it all because you’re so sad.”
He pressed his lips together in a pitiful smile, but there was an amused glimmer in his eyes. “You know, you could just move to Los Angeles and become an actress for a lot more money if you like that sort of thing.”
“I could, but I can’t act. Although if anyone out there wanted to turn my book to a movie, I’d happily go.” I paused. “This took a bit of a wild turn from you dating to how much I regularly hate myself.”
Max dipped his chin, and his shoulders shook.
“Stop laughing at me!”
He peered up at me, fucking laughing. “That conversation was a hell of a ride, Ellie.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ELLIE
Fake Dates Don’t End Well
It really was a hell of a ride.
That’s what my brain was like, though.
A back and forth with myself until I’d boarded the mental train at one station and gotten off on another planet.
That pretty much summed up my entire life, actually.
“Well, you know,” I said after a moment. “Now you know what it’s like to be inside my head.”
“It sounds terrifying.”
“It is. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Then you’ll be pleased to know that I have absolutely no intention of getting inside your head.”
But he was inside my head.
The handsome bastard was living there rent-free.
Judging by the suit he was wearing, he wouldn’t be leaving any bloody time soon, either.
“I can only assure you that is a very good idea,” I replied. “Now talk to me about Windermere.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I already have Penny for my regular source of village gossip, but you’re the only person here who knows what’s happening in my book.” I looked at him pointedly for that, but he simply smiled smugly at me. “The bottom line is that I need enough to make my heroine fall in love and decide to stay with the hero.”
Max blinked at him. “Isn’t he enough for her?”
“No. This isn’t eighteen-ninety-two. Or Disney, for that matter.”
He coughed into his hand, and I swore it was to hide a laugh.
“He’s not going to whisk her off into the sunset like some corny romance movie, nor is she going to pack up her entire life and move because a handsome duke reckons he’s in love with her.”
“Isn’t the point of the story that he is in love with her?”
“Yes, against all odds and his own judgement.”
Max paused. “And that isn’t enough for her? She seems hard to please.”
“If I had a book, I’d hit you with it.”
“Let me guess, she says that to him at some point.”
“Not yet, but she’s going to. I’m sure there’s plenty of opportunities for him to say something as stupid as you just did.”
Right on cue, our dinner was brought over, putting a pause to the conversation as the waiter checked on us. After our assurance that everything was fine, we both dipped our heads and tucked into the food.
I’d made an excellent choice.
The pasta was, in fact, delicious.
“I just don’t know how you can think someone is hard to please because love isn’t enough,” I said when I’d finished, setting my cutlery down in the bowl.