Page 4 of Words of Love

“So I was reading over your ideas, and they’re not going to work.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She tightened her jaw. “Considering you were the one who asked me for them.”

“Yeah, bummer.” His voice contained a twinge of regret. “I mean, I know you’re a great writer and all, but I need something click-baity, you know? A grabby idea people will want to share because it hits them on an emotional level, like the story we did about that kid who was killed at the border. Or stories that resonate with people’s lives. We ran a piece last month about finding the perfect pet, and it got the most views that entire week. Can you think outside the box?”

Brooke didn’t know. She was good at taking assignments and pitching news stories, but she’d never found her writing “niche,” whether that was inside the box or not.

Not that she was about to tell Michael that.

“Of course I can.” She hoped she sounded convincing.

“Send me some new ideas by mid-January. That’s when we’ll choose stories for the February edition. Are you coming to FreeCon later this month?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, no.” She’d been to the national Freelancer’s Convention a couple of times before she’d been hired atThe New York Times, but she hadn’t thought about attending again. “Where is it?”

“Here, in the city. Marriott Marquis. I’m on a magazines and periodicals panel. If you come, we could get together and talk about pitches. I can also introduce you to a bunch of people in the industry. The networking would be great for you.”

Brooke knew he was right. She hadn’t freelanced in years, and she was out of the loop. Though she still had mixed feelings about the idea of working with Michael, he’d been the only person so far to offer her any opportunity whatsoever.

“I’d love to go to the conference, but I can’t come out to New York on such short notice,” she finally said.

“I can get you a discounted registration and hotel rate. I’ll also ask around and see if I know anyone looking to share a room. That’ll cut your expenses significantly.”

She bit her lip. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Let me know. I’ll check airline rates for you, too.”

“Okay. Thanks, Michael.” She ended the call and dropped her phone back into her bag.

No question she needed to network more, and the conference would be a perfect place to do that. Especially since she was still struggling to get her foot in the door. The problem was that she couldn’t afford any of it—not even at a discounted rate.

Not to mention, seeing Michael in person again would be…weird.

Even now, two years after their breakup when they were on somewhat amicable terms again, talking to her ex-boyfriend knotted her up inside.

They hadn’t spoken for months, but he’d emailed her last fall with praise for a story she’d done on Pacific Coast conservation efforts. When she’d eventually told him she was freelancing again, he’d asked her to send him story ideas for his New York-based publication,Empire Monthly, which had been funded partly thanks to their breakup.

Or, rather, Michael’s mastery of lies and deceit.

Brooke had dismissed the idea outright…until her rejection letters had started piling up like trash in a landfill. Right before Christmas, she’d finally agreed to send Michael a proposal. Despite having to swallow her pride—and face a different kind of rejection from her ex—she didn’t regret the effort.

Empirehad a wide readership, the pay was good, and it would be an excellent addition to her resume. Since full-time jobs were slipping from her grasp—or weren’t even within reach—she’d have to take whatever she could get.

She approached the counter. Sam was watching her, his eyebrows drawn together and frown lines carved on either side of his mouth.

“You done?” he asked gruffly.

She nodded. “Just a business call.”

“Then you can pay.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “I need to get going.”

“Me too.” Giving him a pointed look, she tapped her credit card. “That’s why I was here at nine.”

After signing the receipt, she grabbed the books and stuffed them into herReading Is My Superpowertote bag. She started toward the door.

“Good luck with your research,” he remarked.

She shot him a look over her shoulder. He was watching her leave, still holding the bitten apple. A strange, unexpected heat sparked in her belly.

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