Page 92 of The Shake Off

We were seven weeks into the season, and The Lions were now third in the National League East standings, behind the Phillies and the Marlins. Not only that, they were half-way up the National League standings.

In the sixth inning, the ball had smashed off the bat and flown high into the air, but it had traveled up and back, instead of out to the bleachers either side. Ace sprinted toward the dugout, powering those thighs I’d become well acquainted with, until the ball lost velocity and dropped. Ace slid along the dirt, his glove reaching high, and the ball fell straight into it.

August Chase had pulled him after that, bringing out Cory Michaels from the bullpen. But the opinions were unanimous; whatever demons Ace had been battling at the beginning of the season had been well and truly exorcised. He was becoming unstoppable. The guy fromESPNwrote that he expected Ace to become the first pitcher to be nominated for a Cy Young award who’d let four runs be scored off his first inning of the season.

By the time I’d finished reading everything I could find and typed out a message to Ace telling him he’d done an awesome job, I realized I’d not only taken far too long, but I’d blow-dried my hair so poorly that the only thing I could do was tie it back into a messy bun. The next three minutes allowed me to pull on the first thing I saw in my closet, which was a pair of skinny jeans, a cute sleeveless top, and pair of flat pumps, throw the green birthday Jimmy Choos into my purse next to my laptop, and sprint out the door.

I might have felt like a totally frazzled mess when I stepped into the elevator at the Greyschott building forty minutes later, but pressing the button for the fiftieth floor instead of the fortieth filled me with such a sense of calm and happiness, that when the ding went off and the doors opened, I was a real time equivalent of a before and after picture.

I stepped out with a genuine smile on my face, because for the first time in a long time, I waslovingbeing at work.

The only thing I wasn’t so wild about was my lack of office.

The fiftieth floor was open plan, with hot desking encouraged, so we all had lockers to dump our things in instead of littering the floor with them.

A huge black and white kitchen was stationed at one end, and a cozy looking library with floor to ceiling shelves brimming with the latest releases – some yet to be released, and Simpson and Mather classics all organized by genre – at the other. Some of the guys I’d met this week were already in here working, or reading on the squashy couches, beanbags, or chairs while they ate breakfast.

The plus side – the décor was adult, whereas the fortieth floor always reminded me of the children’s wing at a hospital with its bright colors and walls covered in characters from the books we published. Maybe that was why I’d always hid in my office.

I dumped my bag, switched my shoes out, and was making my way over to the desk I’d decided I liked the most, when a voice called my name.

“Good morning, Payton.”

I spun around to see Mia, one of the junior editors for adult fiction walking toward me with a mug of coffee in each hand. I’d met her on my first day last week when she told me she’d been working at Simpson and Mather just under a year, and loved historical romance and fantasy fiction.

She was cute and preppy, super enthusiastic, and I liked her immediately.

“Here.” She thrust a coffee at me. “I saw you getting out of the elevator and made it for you.”

My eyes widened as I inhaled the rich Arabica, and realized I had been too distracted with Ace to even make myself coffee this morning. “Thank you so much. God, I need this.”

“How are you enjoying things so far?” she asked, sitting down at the desk opposite me, where her laptop was open.

I blew on the steaming mug and took as big a sip as the temperature would let me. “Good so far.”

“Is it different?”

I shook my head. “Aside from the subject matter and the interior design, I’m not sure yet. I can’t imagine it’ll be that much different.”

“These manuscripts will probably take a little longer to get through,” she laughed.

“Totally. Kids’ books don’t stretch over that many pages,” I grinned. “What are you working on right now?”

“I’m halfway through first edits of the new Callie Malone book, so I should be done with that by the end of next week.”

“Is that the next one of her Fisherwick Chronicles?”

Mia nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, it’s awesome. The first sold so well that we bought the rest of the series.”

“I’m not really into fantasy books, but my best girlfriend read it on vacation this year and wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

It was true. The first Fisherwick Chronicle was one of the books Lowe had brought with her to St. Barts last New Year. She’d started it on the Tuesday morning, and hadn’t spoken again until Wednesday afternoon when she finished it. After that, she proceeded to hound everyone else into reading it. The boys refused point blank, but Kit had relented followed by Beulah. I’d added it to my never ending pile of books.

“I’m loving the second, even from the first draft. I had to beg for it though; there were a lot of us on this floor who wanted it, but I got it first. Once I’m done it’ll go to the senior team for editing.” She grinned. “What are you working on? Have you had any submissions yet?”

I tapped the edge of my computer screen where my manuscript was open. “Actually, I have. It was one I brought with me. I got it by accident, but it’s a new author and I’ve started reading it, and I love it. I want to run it past the team in the meeting today and see what the vibe is.”

“What’s the genre?”

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