Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I clenched my jaw. “I told you about it when I set it up. You have a new book out next week, Mum. You need to talk about it if you want it to sell.”
“You know I hate these interviews,” she groaned. “Maybe your dad could do it for me. He knows the book inside out. And he’s prettier than me.”
Amusement cut through my annoyance. I was only irritated because Mum fought me on these interviews every time I set them up. And it wasn’t like they were constant. It was only ever with a new book release.
“I’m already going on some podcast to discuss it. Why do I have to do social media too?”
The podcast she referred to was a national entertainment show hosted by a famous British television host. Mum’s publicist, Jeff, had arranged that, and I coordinated with him to make sure I didn’t overbook her with social media stuff. Mum was one of my easier clients, thanks to her massive core fan base. It grew exponentially ten years ago after her most famous series set in Edinburgh was turned into a miniseries on a popular streaming service. Since then, two more of her books had been adapted. Still, we couldn’t rest on our laurels in a landscape that changed as quickly as the publishing industry. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe because book influencers tell other people to buy your book?”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“Don’t say things that require a sarcastic response.”
“Fine. Do I have to do my makeup for this thing?”
“I already asked Aunt Jo to do it for you. She’ll be at the house at six. I’ll be there at seven to make sure you join the live, okay?”
“I’m perfectly capable of joining the live.”
“Really? How do you do it?”
“You … uh … you go into Instagram …”
“Uh-huh?”
“And you click on the button that says ‘Join Live.’”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s completely inaccurate. You’re inaccurate.”
“As an entire person?”
I snort-laughed. “Sometimes.”
“Kid, you’re lucky I love you.”
“I’ll be there at seven. Love you.” I hung up before she could complain about anything else I’d booked on her calendar for the new release.
By the time I arrived at the bookstore in Fort Kinnaird, the author, Peter Wilkins, and Cara were already there. Cara would take pictures of the event and post them on Peter’s social media. His wife was with him, and she pestered me with questions while Peter signed books. She wanted to know exactly where the money for ads was going, where the money for graphics was going, and tried to suggest the “extra” money that we charged for our time was unnecessary. I smiled through it, resisting the urge to be sarcastic and defensive, while I explained everything as best as I could.
The time I’d hoped to use to reply to emails was eaten up by her incessant cheapness.
“I think it’s a lot of money every month,” she finally grumbled as the signing came to an end.
It was a lot of money every month. However, since it was essential for strategizing to know our clients’ income, I had all of Peter’s data at my fingertips. And I knew since he’d hired Social Queens, he’d seen a sixty percent increase in revenue. I relayed as much.
She harrumphed. “I think as a long-time client, we should get a discount.”
I smiled through my teeth. “We’re counting a year as a long time?” Really?
“I don’t like your tone, young lady.”
“I’m Ms. Carmichael, Mrs. Wilkins. Not ‘young lady.’ And I’m sure if you’re unhappy with our work, you can discuss that with your husband. I hope you’ll stay on with us, though. We value you.”
With another forced smile, I turned and walked over to Cara who was swiping through the photos she’d taken on her phone. “Remind me I love my job.”
“You love your job.” She flicked me a look. Her brown eyes narrowed at whatever she saw on my face. “You okay? You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” I sighed heavily and pulled out my phone. “I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Yeah.” Cara patted my shoulder absentmindedly as she returned to her own work. “Tell me about it.”
“I have an interview with Sheera Green on Friday. The owner of Aura Beauty.”
“Interview?” Cara scowled.
“Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere.” I made a face at the suggestion. “They’re interested in hiring us for social media management.”
My friend’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It could be a game changer. If we bag them as a client, we could hire at least one new staff member. We need an extra set of hands.”
“Make that a few extra. That is fantastic news. Do you need me to come with or are you good to bag this alone?”
She said it like there was no doubt I would land us this account. “I can do it.”
“Of course you can.” She gestured behind me. “Look what you’ve done for Peter.”