Page 19 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

Wedding band.

I hold up my phone and shrug, as if that explains everything.

Seeing me act normal, he nods and continues on to the station.

I smack my head against the back of my seat to resume my professional lament. Caleb Jonas and Salena Cole!

Caleb’s strength is in police roles, not the tender young sculptor inLimited Fate. It’ll be hard for an audience to get past his commanding presence from those movies.

Salena could work as the snappy, jaded graffiti artist from the Bronx, but she’ll need a serious accent coach. She’s only done small parts with a few lines here and there. She’s completely untested in a nuanced role.

But even if both of them can rise to these parts, and I do believe in the flexibility of most actors, there’s something about the two of them that doesn’t make a romantic mix.

I could put a lot of actors with Caleb who would work better. And many leading men for Salena. But Caleb and Salena ...

I’m making myself crazy. I have to stop.

Desdemona is the boss.

I might as well take this moment to notify the two of them they need to record a reading. I knowLimited Fateinside out, and as I wait for my hybrid to charge, I use my phone to scroll through the script to select pieces for each of them.

By the time I’m ready to hit the road again, I’ve submitted the scenes to both actors’ agents and bought myself a fried apple pie to make me feel better.

I’m about to pull out when I get a text from Zachery.

Zach:Jester told me about LF. I’m sorry.

Me:It’s a nightmare but it’s done.

Zach:Maybe they’ll pass.

Me:They’d be dumb to, although it won’t be the same movie with them.

Zach:You’re not texting and driving, are you?

Me:Just charged the car.

Zach:Good. Check in on your next stop.

Me:Will do.

I decide to go with podcasts instead of music for the next leg, in hopes of keeping my mind off the tragic casting I had to submit.

My phone has obviously been illegally listening to what I’ve been doing for the last two days, because it pops up a suggestion for a Hallmark movie review show. I click on it and start listening.

Within an hour, I’ve absorbed two perky hosts’ defining characteristics of the genre. They’ve given me far more information than the meet-cutes Zachery and I studied.

I can’t stop and type a list, so I commit it to memory.

One: My future husband will be wearing a flannel shirt.

Two: He will work with his hands. Handyman seems to be the top preference, but he could also be a farmer, a mechanic, or possibly a police officer.

Like Caleb Jonas.

No, no. Don’t think aboutLimited Fate.

Unfortunately, according to the statistics on the podcast, the leading lady is supposed to be a baker, and if not, a reporter traveling to the town to do a news story.

---