AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Those were but a few situations, of course, and the latter was far more personal to me, but if we shrugged off the things we couldn’t control as just that, I suspected people would be a lot happier in general.
That was a very long-winded way of explaining that I just didn’t understand Max.
The writer in me wanted to. Grumpy heroes were the best heroes, after all, and my favourite stories to write were the ones where the grouchy hero slowly falls for the bright, optimistic heroine.
Don’t get me wrong, I had no fancy ideas of that happening in real life.
I wrotefiction.
I wasn’t sure that kind of thing happened in real life.
If it did, it wasn’t going to happen to me.
Yes, that was at odds with my optimistic outlook, but romance was where I was a bit of a realist. My dating life had given me plenty of inspiration for my novels, but that was about it, sadly.
Actually, calling what I had a ‘dating life’ was peak optimism.
I had… a few random coffee and dinner dates that ended in either awkwardness, catfishing, or finding out the guy was already in a relationship.
Megan had told me I was no longer in charge of finding myself a boyfriend. She was, apparently.
She’d had about as much success as I had until she’d met her boyfriend, so yes. My realism as far as real-life romance went had a solid foundation.
I tapped my fingers against my desk. WhatdidMax have against me? I wasn’t sure I’d been particularly rude to him. Sarcastic, yes. Snarky, yes, but rude? I hadn’t outright insulted him that I was aware of, and even if I had, he struck me as the type of person who didn’t get offended easily.
Not to mention that every conversation we’d had had pretty much been touch-and-go from the start. He was alone every time I saw him, and I’d been surprised when he’d walked into the pub in Windermere last night and sat at the bar.
It’d made sense when he’d said that Penny was his cousin. They got on almost as if they were siblings, and I wondered if he was that close with her brother.
It was none of my business. I really shouldn’t be wondering about that kind of thing.
The Duke of Windermerewas none of my business.
Said the woman writing a book where the hero was essentially based on him.
Maybe it was time to go back to London.
Ugh, but then I’d just end up with writer’s block again.
Sigh.
My phone buzzed, drawing me out of my head. And thank God for that—it was a mess inside my brain today.
ABBY: Did you send the right document?
I frowned.
ME: Yes? It’s the one I’ve been working on. I saved it in a new file to make sure.
ABBY: Right. Ok. Did you send that to Kim, too?
ME: Yes. You were cc’d on it.
ABBY: Mm. Have you checked the title?
ME: It doesn’t have one yet. She knows that.
ABBY: Yes, Ellie, but the document is saved as “THIS SHIT NEEDS A TITLE” and the title inside the document is “Max IS A DICK.”
