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“Girl, slow down,” Tess grumbled as I hauled my purse back up on my shoulder. The movement made me spill my too-hot coffee all over my hand. There was no time to stop and clean it up, though.

I’d been up until almost seven in the morning, words tumbling out of me so quickly that I didn’t even notice the sun coming up, didn’t feel the ache in my hands, or the strain in my shoulders until I finally ran out of steam and sat back.

I’d churned out six thousand words in that one session. And maybe I was biased, but I was pretty sure they were good ones, too. Seeing as I was someone who pretty much hated everything I wrote and second-guessed the probability of me having any talent at all, it seemed like it meant something that I was so confident about it.

But, of course, I’d crashed hard afterward.

On my reading chair. Far away from my alarm. So it wasn’t until Tess rolled out of bed sometime in the early afternoon that she heard it, saw me passed out still, and woke me up.

My shower, blow-dry, and tooth brush had cut into every spare minute I had. But they were all nonnegotiable since I couldn’t go to a meeting with my bosses looking like I’d been awake all night working on something that I hoped would eventually replace my job at the station.

My stomach was empty and grumbling.

The coffee Tess picked up for me was still too hot to drink.

My feet were pinched in too-small shoes because I hadn’t been paying attention when I slipped them on. And I was still painfully bleary-eyed from staring at the screen for so long just a few hours ago.

I was just going to need to suck it up for an hour or two, though. Once the bosses headed out of the building, there was no one to watch me as I ordered takeout, stuffed my face, took off my shoes, and collapsed in my chair to half-ass my work for once.

“They’re upstairs,” Grum rumbled at me as I rushed through the door.

I wasn’t late, not yet. But my bosses were the Type A ‘if you’re on time, you’re late’ kind.

I booked it to the stairs, not trusting that the damn elevator wouldn’t get stuck with its doors half open again.

Which meant that by the time I got up to the conference room, my hair was blown back, my coffee had spilled even more, and there was a bead of sweat on my brow.

But I was still five minutes early.

Not my best, but better than on time.

“Maggie, there you are.”

The man at the head of the table was a human in his mid-sixties, handsome with his graying hair and light blue eyes. But he had the personality of a spreadsheet. I always felt a little like I was called into the principal’s office whenever these meetings took place. Which was monthly. Sure, it was over in a few hours, but it took a few days to recover.

There were six other men in the office. Four of whom were human investors in the station. One was a shifter who acted as a sort of liaison for the humans and paranormals, so the humans didn’t accidentally say or do something incendiary. The final man was wearing a heavy bruised purple velvet cloak and an impressive amount of eyeliner. He was a high warlock. And someone who’d invested a lot of money in the station to help turn it into a thriving podcast studio so we didn’t have to close our doors.

Maybe it was silly, but I was always acutely aware that not only was I the only woman in the room, but I was younger than all of them by at least thirty years. And in the warlock’s case, centuries.

But I’d survived dozens of these. With a lot bigger issues than Steve and his chair.

“Hey, Mr. Lane. How are things?” I asked as I went to my chair beside the shifter, who I somehow felt more comfortable around than the others. Maybe it was because I knew he was usually on my side with any of the issues the talent had.

“The wife wants a vacation home in the Hamptons, so, we need this to be our most successful season yet.”

“I have all the confidence that we can make that happen.”

I went to reach for my notebook on the table, realized how sticky my hand was, and used my other hand instead.

“Let’s hear the ratings then,” he said, waving toward one of the other men.

“Climbing three spots after a slight dip last week, we have Hell & High Notes at number one.”

Go Tess!

Had she already been in the top spot on more than a few occasions? Sure. But I was still thrilled for her each time it happened again.

The list went on from there, everyone pulling more or less the same number of listeners, subscribers, and ad revenue as the month before.