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“You should have led with this. It’s better than the gift for odd sports.” I set the letters aside. “This is not a typical assistant job, Ms. Reynolds.”
“I’m not a typical girl.” She smirked.
“Do you need this job?” It was an important question because I wasn’t here to play games.
“Absolutely.” She cleared her throat and leaned forward. She met my gaze head-on. Most people didn’t. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of personal assistant experience, but I’m a really hard worker, and I’m a quick learner.”
I didn’t doubt it. She’d graduated magna cum laude, so that told me that she knew how to focus and push herself.
“This position goes beyond just office work. I need someone to run errands, handle things at my house, and, if needed, jump on a plane and travel at a moment’s notice. You’d be in charge of scheduling my appointments, possibly sitting in on meetings and taking notes, and occasionally reading manuscripts. So, as you can see, you’d be wearing several hats.”
“I love hats. I’ve yet to find one that I can’t pull off.” She smiled so big it was hard not to join her, aside from the fact that her answer made no sense.
“You won’t actually be wearing hats. It’s a metaphor.”
“That was a little condescending, Bossman. I’m aware. I was being funny. Apparently, a sense of humor is not in the job description.”
Smart-ass.Although I liked that she was witty and not some airhead. I’d have to set some ground rules if I gave her the job, which was looking very likely because there was no one else in the running.
“How about we lose the attitude and keep things professional?” I waited for her to nod, but for whatever reason, she continued smiling like this was all in good fun. It wasn’t. I was fucking serious. “Are you a reader?”
“Of people?” she asked before she rubbed her hands together like she couldn’t wait to tell me all about her skills.
“Of books, Ms. Reynolds. We’re a publishing house.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She looked off as if she were in deep thought, and just as I was about to speak, she continued. “I mean, I mainly read indie authors. No offense. I just tend to lean that way. But I’d be open to reading authors that you sign, of course.”
Interesting that she knew the difference between a traditionally published author and a self-published author. Most people didn’t. Self-pubbed authors were flooding the market, but understanding the market was not something I’d expected from my personal assistant.
“Why do you lean toward reading indie authors?”
“Well, I read predominantly romance. My cousin, Ashlan Thomas, is a traditionally published romance author, and I beta-read for her. She’s fabulous. But otherwise, there are just so many authors to choose from in the self-published world of romance. Most are female, if I’m being honest, and I guess I appreciate a badass woman who is willing to make her dreams happen, right? That means they do it all. They write, they market, and they sell. It’s hard not to respect it.”
I’d never thought of it like that. But that wasn’t what we did here at Lancaster Press, and she needed to remember that. I’d had no idea that Ashlan Thomas was her cousin, but I’d save that little sidenote for another time, as signing her would be great, seeing as she was a newer, but very popular author, and her name was getting a lot of praise.
“You do realize that we’re a traditional publisher, right?” I raised a brow.
“Yes. But you hired me to manageyou, not choose the talent.”
“I haven’t hired you yet, and if I do, it would be toassist me, not manage me.”
“Tomato, tomahto. And I’m open to reading whatever you give me. You just asked what I read, and I was being honest.”
I appreciated it, even if I wasn’t sure I liked her answer.
“And how many books would you say that you read a year?” Why was I even asking that? She was my PA, not an editor or a cover designer. What she read was irrelevant, yet I was curious.
I found most people who had opinions on authors and the book world were usually all talk. When it came down to it, a lot of people that had these strong opinions only read two to three books a year, so their opinions were based on nothing at all.
“Hmmm…” She thought it over, and I wanted to chuckle. She’d just made this grand statement, and now she most likely couldn’t back it up. “I think three hundred a year would be a conservative guess. I usually read a book a day, but sometimes it takes me a bit longer, so that’s probably close to accurate.”
I tried to hide my surprise with a slow nod. “I see. That could be useful if I need you to take a quick look at some submissions that my editors send for my approval.”
“I’d be thrilled to do that. And trust me, I won’t forget that picking up your dry cleaning and getting your coffee is also part of the job. I know I’ll be wearing many hats.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard for the county pickleball champ,” I said, keeping my tone even as I fought the urge to laugh. I wasn’t normally much of a jokester, but I couldn’t help myself.
I spent the next forty minutes going over the details of the position, the pay, and the benefits package.
