Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Did she mention the name of the book event?” I asked him as I paced back and forth, feeling like a fucking lion someone had caged.
“No, sir. But Harry said that he asked if it was a signing, and she told him yes, but it was also a conference, and she had to speak at it. Said to cross his fingers that she didn’t puke. Something like that.”
“Okay. Thanks, Wayne,” I told him, then ended the call so that I could go to my web browser and check her website. She had a Signings tab on there that listed her upcoming events.
SpiceCon, November 29–December 1, Chicago, Westin O’Hare.
I clicked the link beside the information. There, on the home page, was Noa’s smiling face and a picture of her books. Keynote Speaker: Juliette Romeo was written in red calligraphy. The corner of my lips tugged. She would fucking hate speaking in front of people. God, I’d love to be there to watch her. As much as she would hate it, I knew she’d be incredible. Hell, just hearing her voice was enough. I wondered if the attendees knew what lucky bitches they were.
Clicking back to my Contacts, I scrolled down until I found the name I needed. Tapping Ted’s name, I put the phone back to my ear. He was a local criminal who did jobs for me that I didn’t want the family involved in, and he was the one who had figured out for me that Shakespeare was Juliette Romeo. He was familiar with her after doing the extensive background search on her.
“Ransom,” he drawled over the line, sounding like a man looking to get into trouble.
“I need you to find the travel arrangements for Noa Raines this weekend and change them,” I said over the line.
“The hot romance writer? Sounds like fun. What’d she do to piss you off?”
“She didn’t. I want her flight switched to a private jet. I’ll send you the details. You just need to find her travel arrangements and hack into the system to change them. That, and when she arrives in Chicago, I want whatever limo service that was hired to pick her up canceled. I’ll handle that mode of transportation.”
He cleared his throat. “All right. I’m on it. You know where she’s flying out of? JFK?”
“No, try Manchester, New Hampshire and Boston. She’s not currently at home.”
I waited while I heard the tapping of a keyboard.
“Found it. One Noa Raines. She’s got a flight out of Boston on Friday night at seven fifteen, nonstop to O’Hare.”
“Good. I’ll have what you need from my end in just a few minutes. Stay right there,” I told him, then ended the call.
A smirk curled my lips as I imagined her reaction when she got to the airport on Friday and was escorted to the VIP area. Damn, I might have to make a trip, just to watch it from a distance.
Seven
Noa
The magical feeling that being at the Wattses’ had always brought me for Thanksgiving was absent this year. I’d gone to bed last night, exhausted from constantly acting like I was happy. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to enjoy the holiday. I truly wanted to, but with the silence from Ransom, my heart just grew heavier. I’d thought about something I wanted to tell him at least ten times throughout the day. Things that I knew would amuse him.
I’d wanted to ask him if he’d enjoyed some dressing while I had stuffing with oysters—a Watts family tradition. Or if he’d had sweet potato casserole and pecan pie. The Watts always made roasted root vegetables and pumpkin pie instead. In the past, the food had never mattered. It had been the company. The sense of family and belonging.
But this year … this year, for the first time ever, I missed the South. The Wednesday before school let out, the school lunchroom would make a traditional Southern Thanksgiving feast. I’d look forward to that meal all month, knowing that the next day, I wouldn’t get more than a bologna sandwich and a bag of chips.
I stood, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Melinda had mentioned that my face was thinner and suggested I have seconds more than once yesterday. Then she casually tried to feed me at random times. It was possibly the only thing that was off about me that I couldn’t cover up—the sudden weight loss. Birch had picked up on it and started dropping sugar cookies in my lap, telling me to eat up before his mother called an intervention.
Eating when I had no appetite was difficult. I reached up and touched the dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. I’d need to cover that up before going down for breakfast. I just had to get through that meal and a few hours of Black Friday shopping in town, and then I’d come back to pack up my things. At least once I left for the airport, I would finally be free to sulk in my misery.