Page 1 of Unholy Night

Easton

Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for takeoff.

No way out now.

I downed the rest of my champagne before handing it to the flight attendant. Fuck me.

“Excuse me, aren’t you Easton Radleigh?”

Ugh. Fuck me twice.

I turned toward seat A11, the biggest smile plastered on my face. “Only sometimes.”

The mousey-haired woman with more bubble than my champagne beamed back at me. “Oh! I just love your books. I’m a huge fan. I can’t believe I’m sitting next to you. Can you believe my luck?”

I did my best not to vomit a little in my mouth. It wasn’t her. It was me. I was a joke. A sham. How could I possibly be a best-selling romance author when I couldn’t even write my own happy ending? I was five hours fresh off the worst breakup in history. A category five level dumping.

I smiled sweetly. “Thank you so much. You’re too kind.”

She was un fucking fazed. “I’m Betty by the way. Ahhh! My friend Doreen is never going to believe it. We just finished your latest, Forbidden Viking, for book club. We dressed up in costume and even drank a mead.” She looked around as if the mere mention of alcohol was scandalous.

I winced as the flight attendant handed me my scotch. “Amazing. I hope you all enjoyed it.” Little did Betty know, I wrote that book in between vibrators while binge watching The Last Kingdom after breakup number two this year.

Betty held up her glass of iced tea. “Enjoyed it? We loved it. Skol!” She giggled.

I clanked my glass to hers, suddenly envious of how hopeful she was. Betty probably had a decent marriage. Maybe not perfect but I’m guessing her Friday night didn’t require batteries.

“Yeah, Skol,” I muttered back.

Betty took a big gulp of her iced tea and shook her head. “Easton Radleigh. Wow.”

Wowee.

“That’s me.” Romance author. Morbidly single. Couldn’t even keep a plant alive. Even nature was trying to get away from me.

I listened to Betty talk about book club for the rest of the flight. I had three more scotches and took way too many selfies with her. I even committed to making an appearance at her next book club. At the end of the day, fans like her were the reason I kept writing. If I could fool the world into thinking love existed, maybe I could fool myself too.

“Alright, Betty. Now you have my assistant’s phone number and email. We’ll set something up after the holidays.”

Betty threw her arms around me, almost knocking me over. “It was fate, Miss Radleigh. I just knew things were looking up for me.”

I was never good with touchy feely stuff, so I awkwardly patted her on the back mid-hug. “I’m honored, but I’m sure you have way more exciting things to celebrate than meeting little old me.”

Suddenly her face fell. “I-um, don’t want to be a downer, but… my husband left me recently. For a younger woman. After thirty-five years. I was devastated. But your books got me through it. They… well, they showed me that I can still have adventure and spice. That my person might still be out there.”

Fuck me three times.

Shit.

Did I mention that I have a horrible habit of prejudging people? Yeah, I’m a real fucking piece of work. Not vain or spoiled, just bitter and cynical about literally everything.

I squeezed her shoulders. “Betty, listen to me. Fuck that asshole.”

Her eyes widened.

“No, for real. You don’t need him or his limp dick. His new young girlfriend is going to be faking orgasms until the day he dies. That’s not on you. You tell those girls at book club that I will be seeing you all real soon.”

I almost lost her until that last part. She hugged me again. “Easton Radleigh. Wow.”

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