Page 2 of The Billionaire's Virgin

“I don’t have the time,” I said, in annoyance. “You know that.”

“I understand why you feel the way you feel,” Jennifer said, softening her tone. “But this is the nature of the business. If you don’t have an agent, then you don’t get to have your manuscript read. Half the manuscriptswithagents don’t make the cut.”

“I know,” I sighed.

We had the same argument every six months, and every six months I found myself backing down to Jennifer’s unassailable logic. It was still hard for me to look at the mountain of manuscripts on my desk and the desks of all my editors and know that there was a Harry Potter in there that would never be read.

“In any case, we need to focus on our current clients if we’re going to keep this streak going,” Jennifer told me. “Eric McCarthy is coming in tomorrow to discuss marketing options for his book.”

“Fine.” I nodded. “Book him in at a few different venues around New York. He can do some readings and get him maximum exposure. We need to put him out there. He speaks well, and he’s charismatic. We can use that to promote the book.”

“Done.”

“Is that all?”

“Um… Louis Salvatore wants a meeting with you,” Jennifer said.

“Fuck,” I sighed. “Does he want to discuss the same thing again?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said. “He wants to know when his royalties start kicking in.”

“We invested a three-thousand-dollar advance on him,” I said. “His books haven’t sold enough copies to be able to pay back that advance.”

“He doesn’t seem happy with that answer.”

“Well, tough,” I replied. “Didn’t anyone ever tell him that being a writer doesn’t actually pay the bills? Not unless you’re JK Rowling.”

“Will you meet with him?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve explained all this to him twice before. I can’t mollycoddle him anymore.”

“Great, that means I’ll have to.”

“Once the advance is paid off, he’ll start making his royalties,” I said. “How many copies has his book sold so far?”

“Two hundred.”

“Then he still has… like a thousand dollars to pay off?”

“Roughly.”

“Then make sure he understands that it’s going to be a while before his book starts making him any money.”

Jennifer was quiet for a moment.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t understand how you can be such a hard ass one moment and so… sentimental the next.”

“Sentimentality has nothing to do with it,” I said. “I just don’t want Free Bird Publishing to lose a profitable novel because the writer doesn’t have the money to pay for the middleman.”

Jennifer seemed dubious, but she accepted my explanation. “Fine, the other thing I wanted to discuss was—”

I heard a crash from the kitchen, and a second later a high-pitched scream, and I nearly dropped my cell phone. “Fuck,” I cursed, as I looked around, realizing that Jenna was no longer on the mat behind me with her toys.

“Everything okay?”

“Fuck,” I said. “Again, it’s Jenna. I’ll call you back.”