Chapter 1
Knox
Will trade clean toilets for dirty books.
Well, as far as want ad titles went it was iffy, but I’d thought it’d gotten my point across pretty well when I’d been knee-deep in midnight margaritas. But sober me was starting to question that as I sorted through the responses I’d gotten to thepossiblyconfusing ad.
At least everyone understood I was trading books and not sex.
Well, almost everyone understood that.
“No, I don’t think that’s legal.” Some people needed to spell better because I couldn’t decipher half of the subject lines. “I think you’re looking for an online bookstore.”
Some people needed to read better too.
The ad hadn’t been that confusing...I’d even had editing help because my editor had been drunk as a skunk too, but she could spell no matter how many drinks she’d consumed.
Editors weren’t human but they were necessary.
“Oh, that’s...” No, I wasn’t going to do that no matter how dirty my house was. “Hmm.”
Before I could open one that actually seemed promising, my phone rang, screaming out “Who Let the Dogs Out.”
I was going to have to change that before Lori found out...she wouldn’t find it nearly as funny as drunk me had...but she really shouldn’t have argued with me about the dog’s name. Henry The Eighth was a great name for a dog whose sole purpose in the story was to kill squeaker toys.
“Hello, Lori, I’m sorry I’m late, but I promise to have the first part to you tomorrow.” Now all I had to do was figure out what she was supposed to have already had...because she didn’tbother tracking me down on an actual phone unless I was late for an editing date.
Was it time for her to edit that Christmas story?
Oh, I had a Christmas story to write.
Shit.
Um, what else could it be?
I didn’t think I’d even told her about that book yet, so I was going to owe her a big bottle of something good for Christmas this year. It wasn’t my fault, though. No one should have to write about Christmas when bathing suits were still in the stores.
Her sigh said she might’ve been psychic enough to know about the Christmas book. “I just woke up and remembered what we’d done. I was calling to make sure you weren’t dead because of some kind of serial killer or stalker.”
Oh.
“You need to read happier books if that was your go-to worry.” At least mine all revolved around dirty sex and running out of caffeine.
“We put up an online ad to exchange free copies of your books for someone to clean your house. That’s dangerous. That’s ridiculous. That’s—”
“That’s brilliant because I think I found one of my readers who lives close by.” I loved my readers. They were just as weird as I was. “Their subject line is even asking if I mean work-in-progress chapters of Teddy’s book too, and I’ve only talked about that in my Facebook group.”
We really were brilliant.
“Okay, so it’s a stalker but at least it’s an educated one?” She wasn’t quite as supportive as she should’ve been considering it’d been her idea to begin with.
“Education is important. Don’t knock it.” It’d be nice to talk to someone who understood what I wrote and could offeropinions. “Think of it like a beta reader and a house cleaner in one.”
And someone else to talk to wouldn’t hurt either.
“I’ll help you find a cleaning service.” Lori sounded kind of desperate, but I was still on thewe’re brilliantside of things. “I’ll buy you a label maker for Christmas.”
“You said I couldn’t have one of those.” Not even when I’d made the best-seller list. “You said I’d be a nuisance.”
