Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
The room begins to murmur with agreement, making Abby uncomfortable. “But”—I put up a hand to stop the murmuring—“you’re right. Most, but not all, happily ever afters typically mean a wedding and baby. However, perhaps you might consider the idea that if the author decides they do not want a wedding and a baby, that maybe, possibly, that book just… isn’t for you?”
Abby sighs. “Yeah. You’re right. I should just… find another book that does promise a wedding and a baby.”
“Find another book, Abby. There are a million of them out there.”
The room settles and the ladies calm down, easing back into their seats, stretching out their legs, getting comfortable with the change.
I am eager to get out of here. I want to end this panel and go find Cordelia so I can beg her to tell me what is on her mind. What did I do wrong? How can I fix it?
But I have to admit that it feels kinda good to talk to the readers like this. Essie’s the one who does the panels. I never get to interact this way. Plus, this is all good feedback for me.
I know it’s been a while since I actually wrote a romance, but being at the conference is really getting the creative juices running.
So I don’t end the panel. I start addressing all their issues. Explaining, from the writer’s point of view, why things get done a certain way. Because there is a reason for all of it. Every complaint has a reason behind it.
And once I’ve done that, and they are all satisfied—satiated by my considerable romance author wisdom—I say, “Trust us, ladies. That’s all we ask. Just trust us to take you on a journey. Because isn’t the journey the point? Don’t you want to ride the rollercoaster of that fictional life in that fictional world? So that when you get to the end it’s… sweet.”
I get a standing ovation for that speech.
“Now go, ladies. Go forth and enjoy the rest of panel day.” And with a wave of my hand—in the vein of Master Choke himself—I dismiss them.
I make a quick escape out into the maintenance hallway, pull out my phone, and tap the SparkleNight DreamWeaver’s WishMaker app. Gregory’s cartoon face greets me. “Hello, Steve Smith. How can I help you?”
I’m just about to beg him to locate Cordelia for me when I see the two troublemakers who started all that fuss earlier. So instead I say, “Gregory, please hold.”
Those two ladies didn’t have a single question in the panel. In fact, they never said another word. Something is amiss.
“Hello! Hi, there!” I call to them in my commanding Tank-slash-Master Choke voice. “May I have a word.” It’s not a question.
They look at each other, nervously, then nod and come my way.
“Hi, Steve.”
“Hey, Steve. We should probably apologize for—”
I put up a hand and they go silent. Holy fuckin’ cow. Master Choke really knew what he was doing. This whole alpha-male dominant thing works, it really works.
I gather myself, and in that same Tank-slash-Master Choke voice I say, “I’m not looking for an apology, ladies. I’m here to say that if either of you so much as looks at anyone the wrong way, I will personally banish you from the Sin With Us convention forever and have you thrown out of the Aria.”
Angela, aka Babydoll Tee, huffs. Like she doubts I have this power.
But I have Gregory, all spun up, right in my palm. “Gregory,” I say into the phone.
“Steve Smith. Honored guest of the Aria Hotel and Casino. How can I make your wishes come true today?”
“Gregory, do I have the power to ban people from this hotel?”
“If that is your wish, Steve Smith, I will make it happen. Who would you like to ban today?”
“No one. Yet.” I narrow my eyes at the troublemakers. “But I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
“Very good, Steve Smith. How was your date last night? Did the rose petals work out?”
I whisper into the phone, “Hold that thought. BRB.” Then I stand up straight and nod my head at the troublemakers. “You’re dismissed.” And with a wave of my hand, I send them off.
They huff and puff, looking over their shoulder at me as they make their retreat, hopefully filled with shame for the commotion they caused.
Then I exhale and return to my task. “Gregory, this is a big ask.”
“My wish is your command.”
I pause. “What?”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Umm… OK.” Not for the first time I wonder just how AI this AI is. Did Gregory just make a joke? No. “Anyway. I need to track down Cynthia Lear. I know this is probably illegal and—”
“She’s in the Baccarat Lounge. Do you need step-by-step directions?”
“Uh… wow. That was fast.”
“My only job is to please you, Steve.”
“Right.” He’s creepy. “No directions. I know where it is. Thank you!”