Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Not again," I groan a week later, staring in dismay at my inbox. Cord Decker is driving me nuts! I'm pretty sure he's reading his way through my entire catalog just to piss me off at this point. Every day, he sends me another email to inform me of something I've gotten wrong.
The way he says it… Argh! I'm contemplating naming the villain in my next book Cord Decker just so I can kill him off. Maybe then he'll take the hint.
Who am I kidding?
The hero in my book has started to sound suspiciously like him. I spend all dang day looking for his emails. When they don't come, I get grumpy. And then when they do come, I get grumpy too. He's so rude! He critiques my heroes like it's his job. I'm pretty sure he's only doing it to get me to respond. So far, I haven't taken the bait since that first day.
Ms. Murphy,
My sister has informed me that I'm not allowed to borrow her books anymore. Apparently, she's very protective of them and I wrinkle the pages. The local librarian is now convinced I'm batting for the other team. This is your fault.
Jedidiah hasn't been a good cowboy name in at least two centuries. But at least he knows how to rope a damn bull. Impressive, by the way. I bet you watched a tutorial, didn't you?
You stopped responding. I'm left to assume this is because you know I'm right.
Still willing to teach,
Cord
PS: The bull is a father again. Out of season. He's also still a bastard.
I huff out a breath that's half grunt of irritation, half laugh. He's persistent, I'll give him that. He's also crazy if he thinks he's right. I know he's only trying to needle me into responding. And it's working, darn it!
Mr. Decker,
Good for your sister. She should make you fend for yourself. You know where the library is located? Impressive. I was under the impression the last book you read before mine was How to Win Friends and Influence People. You should read it again, by the way. You aren't very people-y.
Cord was never a good cowboy name, but you don't hear me complaining, do you?
I'm amazed that a "real cowboy" has all this free time to read and send unsolicited advice to very busy authors. I'll make note to give my next cowboy ample time to soak in a bubble bath with a cup of tea and a good romance since real cowboys have so much time. That is what you do, isn't it?
Cassia
PS: Shall I send the balloons in the bull's name or yours?
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it, and then click back over to my manuscript. My cowboy and his new vet are in the barn, arguing about a horse. The scene is supposed to end with them doing the dirty up against the stall door, but I've been stuck on it for the last hour. It's Cord's fault. I keep thinking about what he said about hay itching. Now I can't stop picturing him getting her pants down and a piece of hay tickling her rear the whole time.
There's nothing sexy about that!
"Argh!" I cry, throwing my hands up.
Sisyphus startles on the desk next to me, his black ears and tail twitching.
"Sorry." I reach out to rub between his ears.
He purrs and brushes up against me before settling back down to his afternoon nap in the tiny sliver of sunlight shining on the corner of my desk.
Ding!
Cord's name lights up the notification at the bottom of my screen. My heart jumps into a full gallop. I quickly click into his email, eager to see his response.
Ms. Murphy,
How much did it cost to sneak a peek at my library card? Did you find anything interesting? And here I thought Lorna was closely guarding my reading habits. I shall discuss her loose lips with her on my next venture into town.
You say "real cowboy" as if there's any doubt. I can assure you, princess, I ain't the fantasy version. Unlike Jedidiah. Eleven inches?! Christ almighty. Real cowboys get it done with a few less. And still leave you walking funny.
Skip the balloons. The ugly bastard doesn't have an appreciative bone in his body. If you really want to celebrate…tell me more about this bubble bath and tea. Can I drink it from a man mug or must it be from a dainty piece of fine china like one of your romantic heroes?
Cord
PS: If this bubble bath involves you, tell me more. This isn't a request. Tell me more.
"He's a crazy man," I say, smiling despite myself. I don't even know why I'm smiling! He emails me to complain. And yet…and yet I look forward to hearing from him far more than I should.
Mr. Decker (if that's really your name),