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Chapter 1

Lacey

“This makes no sense Daddy. Why won’t you even consider taking the paper online?” I stared at my father, the man who owned and operated the only paper in town, Carson Creek Daily Journal, as if he was a complete stranger because that’s what he felt like now. “If you’re going to retire then you don’t have to do anything to take the paper online.” I knew I sounded like a petulant child but dammit, I didn’t care. This was a good idea, one I’d been pushing for the past ten years.

Graylin Gregory, or GG, as almost everyone called him, simply shook his head with the self-assuredness of a stubborn old man. “People need to have a paper in their hands, Lacey. They need to feel the paper under their fingertips, the slight stain of ink from reading the paper as soon as it arrives.”

I rolled my eyes at his incredible old school way of thinking about how people received their daily news. “Those are also drawback for many readers, as in the ones born in the age of digital news. Online news will catch readers who have never even considered a newspaper subscription, and on top of that it will allow readers all over the world to know what’s going on in our little corner.” It was such a southern beauty queen response and I knew it, but it also happened to be the truth.

Daddy let out a derisive snort and patted his slightly rounded belly. “No one outside Carson Creek cares about our little corner and that’s just fine.”

“No it not!” For someone who prided himself on being such an astute businessman, he was being incredibly obtuse about the state of the newspaper business. “Subscriptions are declining Daddy whether you want to believe it’s permanent or not, it’s happening. Not to mention that most people who grow up here don’t stay here, but they have family and friends here and they like to know what’s going on, you know, people like Roman and Derek and Ryan.” I felt my blood pressure rising and I sucked in a deep breath, refusing to let Daddy get the better of me. I shook my head at his stubborn mule routine. “Pippa had to bring in writers from outside of Carson Creek for the Dark Horse opening just to increase exposure, how do you think that reflects on us, the sole news gatherers in town?”

Daddy glanced across the bullpen in Levi’s direction. Levi Branson, world famous, award-wining journalist who my daddy believed hung the moon and wrote every important word ever created. “What do you think, Levi? Online newspapers, abomination or necessity?” He was so sure Levi was on his side, but I wasn’t so sure.

That didn’t mean I wanted to hear the man’s opinion. “Why are you asking Levi, no offense,” I said to him with a half-hearted smile. “He’s a writer and he won’t be running things. Then again, I probably won’t either yet my opinion still doesn’t seem to matter.”

As usual, Daddy ignored my outburst and kept his focus on Levi’s salt and pepper hair, thick and wavy when he let it grow too long. “Well? What do you think?”

Levi looked up with feigned confusion, as if he hadn’t heard every single word of our argument. After a long moment he sat back in his chair and threaded his fingers behind his head. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than sitting down and reading the paper.”

Daddy clapped his beefy hands with a loud laugh. “See? I told ya,” he crowed with great satisfaction.

“But that’s a luxury, not how I consume my news from day to day.”

Daddy, now alarmed, sat up straight, his fuzzy brows dipped in concern. “So you agree with Lacey?”

Levi nodded. “Absolutely. With digital options, I can listen with text to audio while I drive, exercise, cook or anything else. I prefer written news to television and digital allows me to absorb content whenever I can, wherever I am.” Levi sent me a look I couldn’t quite decipher and really had no desire to, because the fact still remained that his opinion mattered more than mine.

The proof of that was in Daddy’s careful consideration of his words, which made me madder than a wet hen. “Good point,” he drawled. “I’ll consider it.”

I couldn’t control the frustrated growl that erupted from me, though full disclosure, I didn’t try very hard to control it. I was sick of this. For the past decade, no more than that, I put aside my own aspirations to help run a small town newspaper that was equal parts calendar and gossip rag. I did it all and still he didn’t give me an ounce of appreciation or acknowledgement.

I was very well aware that both men’s gazes were solely focused on me and I didn’t give a darn. I ignored them both and yanked my jacket off the back of my chair with more force than necessary, repeated the move with my purse and turned on my father. “Well Daddy you consider that while I brush up on my resume and put my house on the market while I consider where I’ll go next.” I stormed out and not just because I was angry, because I was on the verge of saying things that I wouldn’t be able to take back, or worse, doing things that might get me arrested.

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