Page 6 of The Book Signing

“Sounds good. What’s it like so far? Are the accents throwing you off?”

I chuckle and glance at my surroundings. The lobby is filling up with attendees, likely authors, leaving their hotel rooms to get ready too. The more I watch things fall into the place, the more it looks like the start of the Writer’s Festival. I’ve been to them before, but it’s my first here in Australia. I heard Townsville holds a great one too.

“It’s been pretty good so far. The Australian accents are cool, so far, it’s easy to understand. But it’s funny how they say rubbish instead of trash.”

Greg laughs and says, “Yeah, but I bet the women are something else down there… beach babes with an accent.” I make a low chuckle, knowing exactly where his mind is wandering off to. When he sobers from his own joke, Greg’s eagerness matches mine, he adds, “What are the chicks like at the hotel?”

My thoughts start off on the room service chick I was getting it on with in my hotel room, but thenthe image of the pink-haired woman, now known as Abigail, pops into my head.

A chuckle leaves my chest as I say, “You’ll make up your own mind, but I’m not complaining.”

“Sweet! Oh, and on a different note, I’ve added more to your social media accounts. I think that the free giveaways are a good idea. We haven’t done that yet, so it will be nice to introduce that during this book signing. Anyway, I think what we are doing is a good start.”

I nod, enjoying the praise for my giveaway idea.

“Yeah, I agree.”

My thoughts change for a split second, and I go back to the pamphlet. Gripping it tighter, I scrutinize it again.

What I don’t agree with is this.Surely, she doesn’t preach what she writes? That’s ridiculous.

“Good, I knew you’d like the idea.” Then a pause, and he lowers his tone as he says, “Uh, hey I gotta go. Sex on legs just walked into the lobby. I’m gonna play whilst I wait for the taxi. I’ll catch you soon and remember, a stiff prick has got no conscience. Ciao.”

A smirk makes its way across my face, unable to hide the humor at his vulgarity as he hangs up. Sliding the cell phone into the back of my pocket, Istand and start walking toward the room that says J. Sunters outside the mahogany door.

They printed the image of the cover of my book too, right next to my name, which is a picture of me with nothing but a heart covering my dick. Yeah, that was a fun photo shoot. The title is succinct and clear for everyone to read and remember. I gently flick my finger over the title, loving it every time I read it.

J. Sunters, Removing the Illusion of Monogamy.

Chapter Four

ABIGAIL

Day one, the meet and greet of the twenty authors attending.

I stand on the platform and watch as readers filter inside and find spots to sit on.

Being the first author up for the day, I want to make the best impression possible and really get my readers to know me. For those who haven’t seen me in person or been to a signing, engagement is important to me. Being at this event means a lot to me, to see how peopleappreciate my work.

My gaze roams around the room, and I estimate around fifty people in attendance, varying in age. A woman, who earlier introduced herself as Amy, hurries over to me from the side of the room. She hands me a microphone and says, “I have a second one for questions from the audience.” Then turns and hurries off into the background.

When it’s time to speak, I look over at the crowd of people and say, “I’m so happy to be here, and grateful to see all the people that enjoyed my book!”

Two men holding hands at the front hold up my book and shout “Thank you!” as I absorb my crowd.

“No, thank you!” I then turn to some of the younger looking people, some who remind me of when this all started. “As today is a get to know session, with tomorrow being the signing, I’ll focus on Q & A time. I know what it’s like to want to ask author’s questions about their books, and I’m happy to do that for you.” My voice raises with joy, excited to find out what they want to hear.

One lady stands out in the audience, sitting on a chair and waving my book above her head.

Shit, that lady deserves a question.

I grin at her as I point over at her, and she brightens up. The woman moves towards me and,once close to the platform; I give her the second microphone.

I watch her grip it as she says, “I love how you put all your emotions into the book. It must have been tough. How’d you realize your mistakes?”

I clear my throat and give her, and the readers, the best answer I can provide.

“Well, by the time I was twenty-eight, too many people had broken my heart into too many pieces, and it needed some time to heal. After a weekend away with my girlfriends, I realized it would be great to use my unfortunate, naïve experiences to warn others not to follow the same route. A year later, writing every night on top of being a freelance editor, I produced my book.” I won’t admit to them that knowing the publishing industry and connections benefited me, because despite that, it was still my work and effort.

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