AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kelly claps her hands together. “Whoop, whoop. That was awesome. I bet he’ll love that.”
My belly swirls with the thought of Madden Mitchell loving anything I do or write.
My mind fills with thoughts of him, his image vivid as I remember how he looked at a speaking event last year.
He’s extremely tall and muscular, around six-five, with silver hair that seems to glimmer no matter the lighting. His eyes are an ice-blue and his smirk, that perpetual smirk he wears…
It causes sizzling tingling feelings to take possession of my body, as I imagine him aiming that smirk at me. I imagine his taut muscles bursting free from his shirt as he advances on me, hands clasped tightly at his sides as though he can’t contain himself.
“That was great,” Kelly says, pulling me from my impossible thoughts. “Honestly.”
“You don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, walking over to the couch and dropping down next to her.
“Is that how you feel?”
“Well, yeah. But some of it sounds so freaking clumsy. You’ve read Madden’s work. He has such a way with words.” I pause and shrug. “But then again, it’s not like he’s going to read it anyway. He probably has a manager or somebody sift through all his mail. I bet he gets hundreds of letters a day.”
“You don’t know that,” Kelly says. “He might read it.”
I try to grasp onto some of the hope in her voice, try to steal it and make it mine.
But the thought of Madden sitting in his expensive mansion or apartment, maybe on a balcony, shirtless… oh, heck, shirtless.
He’d sit there with the sun glistening off his bulging pectoral muscles, my letter clutched in his hand, his body rippling with heat as his eyes flittered over the words.
And then, and then…
He’d invite me to a special one-on-one writing class, only when I’d get there he’d rush at me and grab my shoulders, pushing me firmly against the wall.
“I need to do more than write with you,” he’d snarl, bringing his lips to mine.
I push the crazy thought away, focusing on Kelly.
“So you think I should send it?”
“What harm can it do?” she replies. “Even if there’s only a small chance he’ll respond, just imagine if he did. Oh, Maddie, I can see you blush already—”
I laugh and lift my fist, pretending I’m going to whack her.
“I am not blushing,” I lie. “I haven’t had a crush on him for years.”
“Hmm-mm,” Kelly says because we both know that isn’t even remotely true.
Kelly remembers how I used to write Maddie and Madden in my notebook in high school, encircling our names with hearts and decorating them with butterflies and starry patterns. She remembers how dorky and excited I used to get – heck, I still get – each time he releases a new book.
Lying to her about that is impossible.
“Okay, okay,” I concede. “Maybe I do. But it’s like I said. He’s never going to respond.”
“You won’t know that unless you try,” she retorts. “So, are you going to send it?”
I bite my lip for a moment, indecision clamping down on my chest as though with an invisible hand. Putting myself forward like this has never been one of my fortes, but perhaps this is where Madden’s popularity will work in my favor.
He’s published seventeen novels, four of which have been made into Hollywood movies, ten of which have been adapted into television shows and radio plays. His books always surge to the top of the charts the moment he releases them.
I’ve never seen him with a woman in the press, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t legions of glamorous, attractive, women nothing like me lining up to service his every need.
Kelly’s right.
What do I have to lose?
It’s not like he’d even glance twice at me if we ever saw each other in person.
Writing to him is the closest I’ll ever get to my crazy impossible fantasy.
Rising to my feet, I make for the door.
“I’m going to send it right now before I lose my nerve.”
Chapter Two
Madden
Boxcar sits at my feet as I settle down in my library, my latest stack of reader mail piled on my desk.
I look down at the French bulldog, called Boxcar because of his naturally squat build and his reddish color. I didn’t name him, but it fits nicely. I got him a couple of years back at a shelter, feeling an affinity to him as he sat at the rear of the cage, seemingly oblivious to my presence, like all he wanted was to be left alone…
Or to find a reason not to be left alone.
These days he’s a happy loyal little man, following me wherever I go, my closest friend. And I’m not ashamed to say that, not even a little bit.
Dogs are so much simpler than people.
I reach down and tickle him behind the ear, eliciting a soft groaning noise.
