Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Only, she smiles, exuding an annoying confidence with teeth that seem too sharp.
“I’d love to,” she says, locking those bewitching green eyes on me. “Let’s see, where do I begin...”
3
Only This And Nothing More (Dakota)
“I’d love to. Let’s see, where do I begin...” I say, then everything goes right out the window.
I can’t even remember the question.
And it’s all thanks to the brute in the suit who’s painfully close to me, staring like he’s holding my death warrant.
Breathe.
So Hot Shrek—the Grand Duke of Dickheadistan himself—is on the interview panel. So what?
There’s basically no chance you’re going to get this job, but you can still be the best candidate. You can make everyone else question his decision-making when he hacks up some sorry excuse for shooting you down.
I draw in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
“I was just asking if you could tell us about the project you did for the florist,” Anna says, cocking her head like she’s wondering if I’m okay.
Right. It’s face-saving time.
The job was for almost no pay and involved thousands of dollars’ worth of flowers. I slogged through it the same way I’ll strap on my mud boots today, too.
“They were having a hard time competing with the bigger chain shops. Most of their previous campaigns focused on the flowers themselves. After studying competitors’ ads, I realized they focused more on the experience. So I asked the florist, ‘Why buy my bouquet from you instead of the place down the street?’ She said, ‘It will be every bit as beautiful at half the price.’ ‘Why do I care?’ At this point, she looked at me like I was dumb and told me, ‘You’ll save money. Obviously.’ But again, ‘Why do I care?’ She came back with, ‘Duh! You can use that money to fly to Hawaii with your new husband!’ And that’s what I went with. She gave me the perfect concept, unwittingly. A smiling couple leaving for their honeymoon with the bride still clutching her bouquet. The flowers were almost an afterthought when sentimentality makes brides buy flowers.” I pause, stretching my hands on the table. “Copywriting is all about emotion. We all like to think we make decisions based on logic, but really, most people let their hearts do the deciding.”
My eyes unintentionally fall on Satan. He’s fit for the fallen angel part today with that navy-blue suit stretched over his mile-wide shoulders, a brown tie tucked neatly into his suit that’s barely a shade off from his dark, piercing eyes.
What emotional connection does Lucifer have to his cinnamon rolls? I wonder.
I remember how he just offered me one for the ego stroke.
Does he get off on power play involving pastries? Is this how he buys loyalties and seals business deals?
I almost laugh at the absurdity, but it would make a twisted kind of sense.
Careful. You have one chance to pull this out. Act normal, a voice whispers in the back of my head.
“What made you go into copywriting?” Anna asks.
“Copywriting—well, actually writing in general—has been my jam since I was eight years old.” I smile. “I started a lemonade stand in my front yard. My first banner was pretty boring and it said something like Lemonade fifty cents. The first two hours, people kept walking past. When I went inside for lunch, I made a new banner. Beat the heat with ice cold lemonade!!! I remember using three exclamations at the end. I made ten dollars and we ran out of lemonade before sunset. That’s when I realized that the words you use matter. Sometimes a whole lot.”
“Smart thinking, especially for a kid. What’s your biggest achievement?” Lucy asks.
“When I was in high school, I won the Young National Poet’s award—”
Lucifer snorts. So loudly I stop mid-sentence, my eyes whipping to him.
“With a name like Poe, it must be in your blood,” he growls.
Very funny, prick. You’re such a funny man you’ve made the whole room quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
“You’re not a copywriter, are you?” I glare back at him, hoping if I act fearless long enough, then maybe I’ll actually feel brave sooner or later.
He glares at me. “I’m the CEO.”
Holy yikes.
I almost choke. This maniac runs the entire company?
I had him pegged as some high-level project manager, a midwit with a God complex inflated to Jupiter.
But it looks like he owns his own corporate kingdom to help justify the mania.
Just peachy.
Somehow, this keeps getting better.
“Well, marketing copy has to be original—you can’t just swipe it from somebody else,” I explain.
Anna snickers.
“Yeah?” Lucifer asks. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Miss Poe.”
“Oh, nothing. Just that I’m confident you’re better with big decisions than with words. We hope, anyway, am I right?” I shrug, winking at the other women in the room. “You’re a little late with the Poe jokes, by the way. The guy who came in second place in that poetry contest swore that it was rigged for me because I’m very, very distantly related to the Poe. Nah, dude, sorry. He just lost. I told him to his face to get over it and he didn’t like that. Some boys are just sore losers when they don’t get their way and never take the hint.”