Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Safe.
But Penny’s voice cuts through the doubt again. “You’re not hiding—you’re shrinking.”
And I can’t help wondering what would happen if I stopped.
If I stepped into the light.
What would my parents think? My mom would pray about it. My dad would probably say something about “real work” and “family values.” My friends would rib me mercilessly. The people in town… hell, they’d either laugh or whisper.
But then there’s Penny—leaning forward in my passenger seat last night, telling me she thought it was extraordinary.
Do I really care what everyone else thinks when she thinks it’s cool?
I take my mug to the window and look out at the dew sparkling on the grass. The truth hits quiet and deep… I’ve been living half a life. Pretending this world I built—the books, the success—wasn’t real just because I was afraid of what it might change.
Maybe staying here last night was me finally accepting it.
Maybe it’s time to stop hiding.
I nurse the last of my coffee while the idea rolls around in my head, scraping against every excuse I’ve made over the last six years.
And I ask myself just one question: Is this the way I want to live for the rest of my life?
Because if the answer is no, then there’s no time like the present to change things up.
I grab my phone from the counter again and stare at Derek’s last text. “Guess you’re really earning that commission,” I mutter and dial his number.
The phone rings twice before his voice bursts through the speaker, sharp and eager. “Please tell me you’re calling to say yes.”
“Good morning to you too,” I drawl. As much as Derek can be irritating, he’s truly been a friend over the last few years. I wouldn’t be where I am now if it weren’t for him.
“Don’t stall me, Rochelle. I’ve been living off espresso and anxiety for a week. The tour’s a goldmine—late-night TV, the BookTok summit, two major podcasts—everybody wants you. This is your chance, and while these appearances aren’t happening until next month, we have to confirm now.”
I lean against the counter, tracing the rim of my mug with my thumb. “You think so, huh?”
“I know so,” he says. “You’re about to break out and become a household name. You’ve built a fandom without ever showing your face, which is miraculous, but it’s time to step into the spotlight. So, yes or no?”
For a second, I see Penny again, chin propped on her hand across the marble island, eyes bright with conviction.
You didn’t just build a house—you built a life. You should be proud of it.
“Yes,” I say finally.
There’s a beat of silence, then Derek explodes. “Holy shit—you mean it? You’re actually saying yes?”
“I’m saying yes.”
He lets out something halfway between a laugh and a yell. “Finally! Sam, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words? We’re going to do this right—new author photos, interviews, morning shows. The fans are going to lose their minds when they find out you’re—”
“A dude?” I finish for him.
“Exactly!” he says, gleeful. “It’s going to blow up. A male author writing romantasy under a gender-neutral pen name—brilliant. Unexpected. We can spin the hell out of that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, that’s… exactly what I was afraid of.”
“Relax,” he says. “You’ll look great on camera. Maybe shave the facial scruff, get a good haircut. I’ll need you to come here to start planning—”
“I’m not flying to New York,” I interrupt.
That shuts him up. “What do you mean, you’re not flying to New York? You have to come here so we can plan the rollout.”
“I’m too busy,” I say, even as I know deep in my gut, my decision not to leave has to do with Penny. “No,” I say evenly. “You come here.”
“Here? Where’s ‘here’? Whynot, North Carolina?”
“That’s the one.”
“But… you don’t have decent bagels there.”
“We have biscuits,” I say resolutely, knowing that his first Whynot meal will be at Central Café. “They’re better.”
“Fine,” he whines. “Tell me you at least have a decent hotel nearby.”
“Even better. We’ve got a great bed-and-breakfast here in town.”
“Oh, hell no. I’m not sharing a bathroom with anyone.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” I ask with a laugh. “You’re a goddamn diva, but I assure you, each suite has its own bathroom.”
Another beat of silence, then a resigned sigh. “Fine. You win. I’ll book a flight and come down in a couple of days. But I swear, if I end up in a Hallmark movie, I’m billing you for therapy.”
“Deal,” I say, and hang up before he can talk himself out of it.
The phone feels heavy in my hand, like the weight of everything I just agreed to is catching up. I set it down, the screen going black, and stare out the kitchen window.
The morning’s gone quiet again. Outside, sunlight filters through the oaks, dappling the lawn. A pair of wrens dart across the porch rail, and that ordinary little movement hits me harder than it should.