Page 21 of Bride Games

“Yes, sorry. Just thinking.” Emma’s mind raced as she decided how to gingerly let the author down. “I can hear how excited you are. Congrats on your debut but.…”

“But?” The author sobbed. “Please don’t say no. I’ve combed through every inch of your website. I’ve read the incredible testimonials from new authors toNew York Times’ bestsellers.” The woman sniffed and paused, apparently waiting for Emma to interject. When she didn’t, the author continued, “I just need something.Anythingthat looks professional that I can hand out at an upcoming book signing.” She sniffled again and blew her nose. “Somehow, I landed a signing at a popular indie bookstore. They’re promoting it heavily on social media. I’m already a nervous wreck. I can’t show up without anything. Will you help me?Please.”

Emma’s heart hurt for the woman. She switched ears as she paced. “What’s the genre?”

Voice rising a crescendo with clear excitement apparently thinking Emma was going to come to her rescue, the author blurted, “It’s a NASCAR romance.”

Emma groaned inside. She didn’t knowanythingabout car racing. Absolutely nothing. She plopped on an ottoman, coffee in hand, and stared out the screen door where a new neighbor walked his wiener dog along the sidewalk. The cute dog always made her smile. “I can direct you to some printers who do a great job on bookmarks, or if you’re familiar with Canva, you can make your own.”

The waterworks began again. “I had a local printer make bookmarks. They look terrible. I’m embarrassed to use them, plus my budget is tiny. My boyfriend races drag cars. Do you—will you help me think of something else? Something better?”

“That’s cool. You could bring your boyfriend to your book signing. Maybe he can take photos with readers and draw attention to your table. Actually, Ireallylike that idea. Authors do that often with models who are on their book covers.” Emma took a sip of coffee, letting the idea simmer with the author.“Does he wear a uniform? That would make great content. You can post photos on your social media.”

“Which no one looks at. I have a mere two hundred followers on all of social media.” The author sighed. “My boyfriend sort of has a uniform, but not with all the cool NASCAR logos.”

Emma walked into the kitchen and poured her now-cold coffee down the sink. “That’s my best recommendation. I wish I could help more, but my fiancé and I are currently planning our wedding, plus I have a young dau?—”

“I’ll wash dishes at your reception. Use me as your slave.” The author laughed. “I’m Mindy, by the way.”

Emma chuckled. The woman truly was desperate. “Hi Mindy. When’s your deadline?”

“In two weeks. Sorry. I don’t understand the publishing business and had trouble formatting my manuscript. Someone on X told me I needed beta readers. I didn’t even know what a beta reader was.” Mindy groaned. “When I figured it out, I had to wait on them to read my work.” Voice wobbling again, she said, “I was nervous about their feedback, consumed by everything, and forgot all about ordering swag. There are so many things to remember! I just thought I had to write a book.”

Chuckling, Emma said, “You’re in good company, Mindy. I hear that from every author. Most hate the marketing side. Did you say two weeks?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Emma ran her fingers through her hair. No one understood how long it took to source, price, design, and review proof after proof, not to mention the shipping time for swag. She chewed on a nail, immediately scolding herself since she wanted nice nails for wedding photos. “Give me 24 hours to try and think of something. No promises, though. This is a new genre for me. Honestly, I don’t know anything about car racing.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Emma smiled into the phone. “Did you hear the no promises part?”

“Yes, but you’re awesome. I know you’ll think of something. I’m so grateful. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

After two hours on the computer looking at car racing websites, memorabilia, and learning more about NASCAR than was necessary for a lifetime, Emma was stuck. She sourced ballcaps since every driver seemed to don one in photos. She also wanted another smaller option that Mindy could easily mail to readers or hand out at signings. But what?”

“Mommy, mommy. Mr. Hansen said we’re going out for dinner. He thinks you’re ’tressed.”

Emma hugged her daughter. “I am stressed. That sounds fun. Where are we going?”

“Chuck E. Cheese!”

“No, I can’t take all that stimulation tonight. Mommy has to work.”

Lucy’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Another time, Luce. We need to find a calm restaurant that has fast service.”

Eli, apparently overhearing, mentioned a new diner in town.

Wrinkling her nose, Emma said, “They’ll be too busy if it just opened.”

Eli gave her a quick kiss. “Why are we in a hurry?”

“I have a new client.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you were taking time off for the wedding.”

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