Page 56 of The Book Signing

I rub my temples at the mixed thoughts running through my mind. After Natasha, I promised myself this wouldn’t happen again, but that’s not the only issue. I now have no representation, thanks to Greg, who I fucking trusted to help me.

“Fuck.” I slam the now empty bottle onto the table and gesture for another.

I assured people that there would be better marketing and advertising. Greg was the man who made me successful. Being a brother aside, it was a symbiotic business relationship. I liked how we had strengths that drove international success. Truth is, he was the only person who liked my material, but that’s because he was just like me. He loved the concept, and he was living it. To everyone else, it was, as they all said, “Wrong, just wrong.” Which was the main response from beta readers, or “Not what we are looking for, a bit too crass for us,” from the publishers and agents I sent it to. Although, they all missed out because my book ended up doing better than they expected.

Big mistake on their part.

The image of a scene from my favorite film pops into my mind, finding the scene appropriate. Something inside me flickers and I flip out my cell and unlock it. I set my sights on new representation, and hopefully someone withmarketing knowledge.

A few locals pop up, which interest me, meaning less travel and easy to meet up with if needed. “No time like the present, I guess.”

I dial the number and end up with voicemail. After leaving a brief message, I try the next one, but it gets disconnected.

Well, there goes their opportunity.

That flicker of enthusiasm is dimming and I’m sensing an oncoming headache. I sigh and lean closer onto the bar table, letting my elbows rest on top, and dial the third option.

On the third ring, I’m successful.

“Hello, this is Tiffany from ‘Marketing with Tiffany’.”

“Hi Tiffany. I came across your profile online. I need some representation and was hoping you could help me with that.”

“What type of representation are you after?”

Duh. You could have started with that.

“Sorry, I’ll start again,” I say with a chuckle and a hint of charm. “I’m an author and just recently let my agent go, which leaves me in a predicament. I now need help with marketing and promoting my next book, and according to your website, you know the ins and outs of marketing pretty well.”

“Thanks for reaching out. The best way is to submit the request on my website, but I understandyou’re in a predicament. I will save your number, but please still send through everything to me via my website enquiry page.”

I sigh, happy with the outcome. “Thanks, sounds good. I’ll send everything through soon. Thank you, Tiffany. I appreciate your time.”

“Not a problem… but sorry, I never got your name.”

“Oh, sorry. My name is Jaxon Sunters.”

With a poorly suppressed chuckle, she says, “Jaxon Sunters. Huh.”

“Yeah. Have you heard of me?” I sit up a little straighter, intrigued to know.

She then clears her throat, and it sounds like she is putting on her professional voice and says, “Yes, I’ve heard of you and your book on promiscuity.” A beat passes until she responds. “Actually, I have my diary here with me. I’ll just check it quickly. Please bear with me.” A few seconds later, she adds, “Okay, how does an initial consult on Friday sound?”

“That sounds great, actually. It shouldn’t be too much. I’m not new on the scene and already have a social media following. It’s simply just helping set up a better marketing campaign, or at least help with advertising.” My voice turnsdiffused by the time I finish my spiel, which feels needy.

“Not a worry. I can help with marketing, but as far as representation goes, I don’t do PR. However, I can always advise and connect you with people in my network.”

“Okay, that sounds great. I’ll submit everything, anyway. But I’m glad we can meet in person soon. I look forward to seeing you.” My smile grows, as does my excitement.

“Chin up and cheer up. I’ll see you soon, Jaxon.”

Tiffany hangs up, and I sit here twirling the bottle that I’ve all but forgotten about. Staring at my cell phone, in disbelief at how easy that was.

Chapter Thirty

ABIGAIL

“Plotting completed!” I cheer, almost jumping out of my seat. It’s taken a while to get things rolling, but something in me blossomed and ideas popped into my mind. It’s not precisely what I expected to write, but when an idea comes, you have to roll with it.

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