Page 105 of One More Chapter

“Cut it in half. I’m not going to be able to eat the whole thing.”

“Are you sure? This isyourcelebration cupcake.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You’ve been eyeing it since you brought it in here.”

I level him with one of my deadpan stares and a cheeky smile. He blushes, then runs off to grab a knife and two forks. After slicing it down the middle, we each take a bite.

“What happens next?” he asks.

“Draft two.”

“You mean you have to write itagain?”

“No,” I chuckle. “No, I do a reread, close up gaps I left earlier in the story, and make it ready for my alpha reader slash editor. She’ll run it through a plot hole test, send back her suggestions, and then I work on those edits for a few weeks before she doesher full gambit of edits. I send it to a beta team too, to see what genre readers think of the story.”

“Damn. Here, I thought you just wrote the thing and sent it off to a team who made it all shiny.” Ant runs his hand through his hair, then levels me with awe. “You do this all while teaching full time?”

“I do. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, it is. Don’t dismiss all of your hard work, boss,” he insists. “When do I get to read this one?”

I know without a doubt that he sees the blood drain from my face.

“Never,” I say immediately. He laughs.

“Penelope, Igave youthat pen name. TheleastI can get in return is a signed copy.”

“Take your pick.” I gesture to the back-stock of books that didn’t get damaged in the flood, hoping that he doesn’t hear the,Any, pick literallyanyof these books that isn’t the one about you and me,hidden in my undertones.

Ant peruses the boxes, running his fingertips carefully over the spines.

“Which one would you recommend I start with? I’ve started getting to know Penelope Barker again. I want to get to know PJ Layne, too.”

My heart races, at the thought of him getting to know every part of me, but also at the thought of him reading my books and putting two and two together. I choke down the fear that lodged itself in my esophagus and reach around him for my first stand-alone.

“This one is easy. No side characters to keep up with. Medium intro to my spice. Happily ever after.”

He grins, cradling my book like it’s something precious. It is tome. I just sometimes forget that other people can think of me as precious too.

“I’ll read it while you’re over at Lucy’s tonight.”

His eyes bop between the book and me, his smile in this big cartoony grin that’s somehow soft at the edges. The thought of him curled up in bed or on the living room couch reading my version of love sends molten lava through my veins. It’s almost enough to keep me here instead of going out tonight; I want to watch him read it and see his big and little reactions. But not before I get the girls’ opinion on my other big deal for the day.

After we cheers with champagne to my eighth “The End,” I open up my email to show it to them.

It’s nothing new. Rafe and the team have been begging me to do events and signings since my first book hit the bestseller lists. But for the first time in my writing career, this one feels right.

“I need your opinions,” I say before passing my phone around. They all scrunch over the email, reading the same proposition from Rafe.

A Night with PJ Layne. New York City, NY.

December 22nd.

“How and when do I buy tickets?” Claire asks.

“Are we driving or flying?” Lucy nods.

“I’m going to get my dad to babysit Hope for the weekend. I’m sure Sam would make a weekend out of New York with Mason. He’s getting a little emotional with Mase bringing up college visits.”

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