Page 5

My body stiffens instinctively the second her arms close around me.

“Oh!” She immediately lets go, taking a small step back. “Sorry. I always forget.”

“It’s okay.”

It’s not, but what else am I supposed to say?

I offer her what I hope is a reassuring smile, praying she doesn’t notice how something as simple as a hug can leave every muscle in my body screaming for space. She smiles back, blissfully unaware.

“Anyway,” she holds up an iPad with what I can only assume is my manuscript on the screen, displaying a grin. “I think we’ve got another bestseller on our hands.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but it’s still a first draft. There’s plenty of work left to do.”

“Not from what I read.” She continues to grin, leading me over to the white leather couch in her office. “Honestly, your first drafts are so polished that I barely have anything to edit.”

That earns a chuckle from me because it’s a blatant lie. The screen bleeding red with tracked changes tells me otherwise.

“Again, very sweet, but not entirely true. I’m still not happy with the bathtub scene. It’s missing something. Hopefully I’ll figure that out during the second draft.”

“I’m sure you will.” She settles into the armchair opposite me. “Now before we go over how Beauty Marks has been performing, I have some good news. Since Crashing Echoes is all but done, I talked with the bosses upstairs, and we think we can move the release up to this fall.” When my smile doesn’t quite match Lauren’s, her brows pull together. “You don’t look pleased.”

“I am.” I force a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? Halloween season is the perfect time to release a horror novel.”

It’s true. Halloween is like Christmas for horror writers. By then, everyone is ready to embrace spooky season, whether it’s haunted houses, ghost stories, serial killer podcasts, or anything else that goes bump in the night. From September right through Halloween, people can’t get enough of the creepy, the eerie, and the unsettling.

I’m the one who hates that time of year for reasons that have nothing to do with publishing.

“I’m glad to hear it.” She claps her hands before getting up from her seat to grab a binder from her desk.

Lauren then spends the next half hour walking me through the sales report for my latest release, Beauty Marks. Sales figures, print runs, sell-through, the whole shebang. She also makes a show of pointing out that Neverland Publishing’s marketing strategy exceeded expectations despite my refusal to do in-person events and interviews.

Then she flips through page after page of charts and graphs, this time breaking down reader reviews, engagement, and market demand. According to the data, readers aren’t just asking for another book like Beauty Marks. They’re practically begging to return to that world.

“Crashing Echoes is exactly what they’re waiting for,” she says, unable to hide her giddiness. “If anything, I think the projection numbers we have here are actually on the modest side.” She taps one of the charts with the back of her pen. “And after reading your final chapters this morning and seeing how everything comes together, I honestly think Crashing Echoes could be an even bigger commercial success than Beauty Marks. And I don’t say that lightly. Beauty Marks was damn near a perfect horror novel, in my opinion.”

I take her praise with a grain of salt. Every book can be a hit or a miss, and no amount of market research is ever a hundred percent accurate.

Perhaps she’s right. Maybe Crashing Echoes really is my best book to date. I certainly feel good about this manuscript. It’s the one after it that worries me.

That’s the curse of being a writer. Finishing one book only means it’s time to start thinking about the next one. This sinking feeling isn’t new. Every time I finish a project, it feels like I’ve scraped the bottom of the creative barrel, convinced there’s nothing left inside me to give.

Then, without warning, an idea appears. Small at first. Barely more than a passing thought. Until it isn’t. One tiny spark becomes a wildfire. One unanswered question becomes an obsession. And before I know it, another book has taken over my life.

I must drift off while wondering whether inspiration will find me again because I feel Lauren’s hand land softly on my knee, calling me back to the here and now. And just like clockwork, my entire body goes rigid at the gentle touch.

“Sorry.” She pulls her hand back immediately. “I was saying I spoke to Cathie this morning.” I nod once, trying to push past the uncomfortable knot twisting in my stomach. “She tells me you’re definitely not going to the book signing.”

“I don’t do personal appearances.” My voice comes out strained as I smooth my scarf back into place after worrying at it with my fingers.

“I know.” She sighs. “Your agent, Erin, reminds me every time I ask. And I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you’re uncomfortable with…” She hesitates. “But it would help sales if readers got to know you… personally.”

“Didn’t you just spend the last thirty minutes telling me how great Beauty Marks has been doing? I don’t see why I should do something that I don’t want to.”

A small smile crosses her face.

“Oh, honey, but you could earn so much more if you tried. You’ve got bills to pay, don’t you?”

I meet her stare.