AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No. Find something you like.”
She pressed the seek button, skipping over rock and rap stations. The dial rested a moment on a classical station before being turned again. She finally settled on an easy listening station. “Is this okay?”
Reece looked at the dial. “This station is dedicated to love songs—all love songs, all the time.”
She giggled. “You sound like a commercial.”
“You couldn’t find anything else?”
She pointed at the radio. “I happen to like this stuff. Corny love songs are the best thing to keep me in the right frame of mind.”
“Mmm,” he replied.
“If you want me to change it . . .” She reached for the dial, but he stopped her.
“The song is fine, but I’m not a fan of sappy music.”
She tilted her head toward him. “What is your type of music?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I like a little of everything. I guess it depends on my mood.”
“That’s the way I am, too. When I’m happy, it’s pop; angry, metal; sad, emo. I love classical music, hate rap, and absolutely adore soundtracks.”
He glanced at her, chuckling. “Are your parents children of the eighties too?”
“Absolutely. Any time Dirty Dancing or Grease comes on TV, my mom is glued to the screen, even though she’s seen each one about a billion times. And actual movie musicals—forget about it. I grew up with The Sound of Music, Singing in the Rain, and Oklahoma.”
“What about your dad?”
She shrugged, her mood turning sour. “Typical male stuff: buddy movies, T and A, action, horror . . . not much else.” She crossed her arms. She didn’t want to think about her father just now. Their last argument was still ringing in her ears.
“He’s not big on chick flicks, huh?”
“Nope.” The word came out with a big pop.
“So, you’re telling me if your book was turned into a movie, he wouldn’t go to see it, even to support you?”
She reverted to staring out the window. “I’d like to think he would, but it’s doubtful.”
“Why not? Don’t you think he’d be proud of you?”
“If I were a doctor or a lawyer . . . even if I married a doctor or a lawyer, he’d be proud, but a romance writer?”
“If you’re successful . . .”
“I’m never going to be successful if I don’t sit down to get some actual writing done.”
He glanced over at her in puzzlement. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been in England for over a week and haven’t accomplished anything? What have you been doing?”
She ducked her head. “There have been too many distractions and interruptions.”
“Such as?”
Nicole continued to study the passing landscape. There was no way she was going to admit to him that he was the biggest distraction of all; all six foot three inches of him. “I’ve already told you this. The press has been hounding me wherever I go. The phone rings constantly. Reporters have been showing up on our doorstop at all hours of the day and night wanting interviews. It’s a wonder I can recall my name, let alone get anything completed on my manuscript.”
He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re making excuses.”
“No. I’m not.”
