Chapter 3
“You need to get me a room at the Rosedale Hotel on Shelter Island.” Chloe stood, hand on hip, staring grumpily at the set of suitcases she was so unwilling to unpack.
“Sorry hon, all booked. Besides, that duplex is amazing. You’ll be less…distracted.”
Chloe took in a deep breath—first in, then out. In order for her to continue this conversation with her editor like a civilized human being, she would definitely need to calm the heck down. Plopping onto the edge of the bed she whined, “I can’t stay here, Libby. I need a room overlooking the water. It’s the only way I can meet my deadline.”
“Seriously, Chloe? Have you even bothered peeking out any of the windows?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. There is nothing but aspectacularview of the street and houses.” Chloe peered up at the window behind the bed as she spoke.
“Uh…no. The ad specifically said there was water. Lots of it, in fact.”
Springing to her feet, Chloe walked out of the bedroom, down the flight of stairs, then turned the corner, quickly making her way into the living room.
Behind a light blue couch sat a bay window, sunlight seeping through its closed blinds. She hadn’t time to explore the place since she arrived last night. Likewise, after this morning’s rudewake-up call, she only made time for a Google Map search of Destiny’s Brew, got dressed, then hopped in the rental car and headed straight for the coffee shop.
Chloe walked over to the window and pulled the lever to open the blinds. “Um, sorry, Libby, but there is definitely no—” She paused at the sight before her.
“There is definitely no, what?”
“What an amazing view.” A curve crept up onto Chloe’s lips.
“Uh, huh. I see you’ve discovered the ‘lots of water’ the ad mentioned?”
Lots of water indeed. And a view so picturesque, with ocean waves crash-dancing against the sand bank.
“Libby, is this aprivatebeach?”
“Private access. There should be a veranda with a gate that leads to the sand.”
“I see it! Oh, Libby, this is—”
“Everything you need to get that novel done. Twelve weeks. That’s all you’ve got left to finish.”
By now, Chloe had heardfinish that novelfor almost a year—it seemed nothing would woo her out of a brutal case of writer’s block. Even the few months she spent in beautiful Napa, California, hoping to draw inspiration from the city, the wine, the residents, had been a flop. Maybe this strain of writer’s block was incurable? Nevertheless, Fortune’s Bayhadto be the answer. Hopefully.
“I’m almost done with it.” Chloe closed the blinds, then spilled onto the linen-covered couch. Of course she wasn’treallyalmost done with the book. But these days she clung onto a mind-over-matter philosophy as if it were a security blanket.
“Done with what? Wait…your novel?” Libby giggled. “Yeah, right. Okay then…read me the first sentence.”
“Fine…once upon a time, two people, who lived in Fortune’s Bay, met and predictably fell in love. The end.”
Libby unleashed a pity sigh and Chloe was sure she would offer nothing more. Her rants were something Libby was used to, especially when a deadline crept closer.
“Why even bother to fill in the middle of the story? I mean, readers know the heroine and hero will live happily ever after. Maybe I should write a cozy mystery instead. A good whodunit always keeps the reader guessing.”
“Now we both know you’re on contract to finish the Lovestruck series…which leads me straight to a topic I planned on reaching out to you about later today. Look Chloe, JBM Publishing contacted me with some news late yesterday.”
“News about what?” Chloe murmured through a lazy yawn. She lay down on the couch, her head nestled cozy on top one of the throw pillows, sleepy blue eyes struggling to stay open. The stimulating effects of Destiny’s Brew coffee had begun to wear off.
“Well…” Libby sighed, “it seems as though you’re not sexy enough.”
Chloe’s eyes sprang open as she huffed out the words, “I beg your pardon?”
While she may never be on a front cover of theSports IllustratedSwimsuit Edition, she was still sexy, damn it. Plus, why the hell would her publisher be concerned about her overallappeal?
“Your books. JBM polled your readers and, well, eighty-five percent said they want sexy times on the pages.”
