AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Damn it, she wasn’t going to live her life in fear of Doug’s harassment. If it was him, she’d make it clear she never wanted to hear from him again.
“May I please speak with Sophie Barnes?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice asked.
Her shoulders softened. “This is Sophie.”
“Hi, it’s Melissa Martin, from college. You e-mailed me last week?”
Her lips curved up. “Hi. So great to hear from you.” Her former classmate was now a literary agent in New York. She’d e-mailed her for advice about getting published.
“You too. You always said you were going to write a book. Good for you. Is the manuscript finished?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Uh, no. But the writing is going well, and I want to be prepared when it’s time to query.”
“Well, for fiction, your book must be complete before you contact agents. I can send you a few websites where you can research the best agencies for you. Unfortunately, my firm focuses on non-fiction, or I’d be happy to read yours when it’s ready.”
Disappointment filled her. But having an old friend buy her book would be too easy, right?
“I’ll send over some resources for you and I’m happy to critique your query letter, but can I be honest with you?” Melissa cleared her throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way but do you have any idea how competitive the market is? Last year, I received thirty thousand query letters and only took on four new clients. It’s cutthroat.”
Sophie swallowed hard.Fourout of thirty thousand? Those numbers sounded like the odds of winning the lottery. Not the statistics she needed to hear.
Melissa’s discouraging tone echoed Elizabeth, her mother, her coworkers, and even Kelly’s questioning of the wisdom of quitting her job before she’d written her book.
She straightened her spine. “Well, I was at a crossroads and had some money saved. So I figured I’d put all my effort into writing this first book without the distractions of my full-time gig.”
“I understand, and I’m not trying to dissuade you, but if I were you, it might be a good idea to try to get your job back if you can. I mean, even if you get an agent straightaway, it takes time to prepare and sell the book, then usually at least a year before it’s published. With the economy being so tough, I hate to think of you unemployed and unpublished.”
Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose and sank onto the couch. “I appreciate your opinion. I’m still set on my path for now. I’ll send you an e-mail when I’ve finished and have a query together. Thanks again.”
Damn, damn, damn. Zack leaped up into her lap and butted his head against her hand. She cuddled him in close and huffed out a disappointed breath.
In a perfect world, Melissa would’ve asked for her query or a few chapters, called her back, and immediately offered her a six-figure contract, including film rights. Ah, the fantasy world. But the next person who advised her to return to her day job would get an earful.
Hell, she’d questioned herself since she was a child. Vague memories of her father’s leaving them and her mother’s subsequent despair. Somehow, she’d taken it upon herself to be the perfect child—straight A’s, captain of cheerleading, excellent college, all of it. None of her accomplishments appeased her mother’s critical nature nor brought her father back.
No more. Maybe her move had been impulsive, but she was committed. If it didn’t work out, she could always get another job. She’d live up to her own expectations. Follow her own dreams. Stop trying to please her mother, her boss, or anyone else for that matter.
She was a writer. Damn it. She would write her book. And now she would finish her word count goals for the day. And then she would celebrate her decision to stick to her plan and pursue her dreams. If she failed, it wouldn’t be for lack of effort.
* * *
Two hoursand nine-hundred words later, Sophie shut her laptop. Time to celebrate achieving her daily goals. Who better to celebrate with than Nick? She’d surprise him at the office.
After a quick shower and change into dark skinny jeans, faux-snakeskin flats, and a striped slouchy T-shirt, she was ready to go. She googled his firm’s address. On impulse, she grabbed the bottle of Cristal champagne she’d been saving for a special day and headed into the village of Laguna Beach.
Driving down the winding roads into town, she sang along to the radio, enjoying the hairpin turns and verdant green foliage framing the streets. A far cry from her white-knuckle experience a few short weeks ago.
She parked in front of the standalone building with strong, simple lines, with the Morgan Designs sign over the entrance. When she opened the door, the small foyer appeared deserted. It was a beautiful space—imagine that for an architect—with tons of windows and natural light, modern and spare furniture, and some gorgeous bamboo accents.
Shoot, maybe she should have called first. His car hadn’t been parked out front.
“Nick are you here?” she called toward the closed office doors.
The door to the left of the reception area opened, and Heather appeared, once again dressed like a runway model.Marvelous.
“Nick isn’t in the office right now. Did you have an appointment?” A sneer marred what should have been an objectively attractive face.
Why was the woman such a hostile witch? Sophie gritted her teeth––time to clear the air.
