Leave It Up To Love

Chapter 1 Book Club–Pick Glow Lila

Book Club–Pick Glow

Lila

My favorite part about being an author was days like today, when I was walking down a Sea Oat Shores, North Carolina, street to meet with my editor. At my publishing house. I was buzzing with anticipation, because what else could an impromptu meeting mean except for good news?

“Hello, Stella!” I practically sang to the small woman with a set curled hairdo like my grandmother’s, who was sitting behind the antique desk in the lobby.

Stella answered the phones and greeted people in this building, where Apprentice—along with two other businesses and dozens of coworking office spaces—was housed.

I handed her a french vanilla latte from Salty Sip, the coffee shop where I worked to make ends meet, with my signature heart drawn on the cup.

She winked at me and said, “Well, thank you, darlin’.

You made my day!” as I headed toward the elevator.

Maybe I’d be able to quit Salty Sip after whatever this news was. I envisioned finding out my debut novel had won a huge award or prize, or leaving here with that I’m-a-book-club-pick glow.

My toes tingled with excitement as Jamie, my editor, met me at the elevator door. I hugged her, hoping that whatever was happening was going to be huge for her too. We had both just turned thirty, and the milestone had given us a common bond outside of our work.

Jamie led me to her small but bright office.

It had a stunning view of the sound, which more than made up for its size.

I had been to Apprentice in person only once before, for the marketing-and-publicity meeting for my first novel.

Its sales hadn’t set the world on fire, but they had been respectable.

I had submitted two ideas for the second novel in that contract, and I was imagining that Jamie loved them both so much, she wanted to offer me another contract in person before I’d even fulfilled this one!

Apprentice wasn’t a huge publishing house, but it was the house of my dreams. They published Elizabeth Lancaster, my idol. With ninety-four bestsellers, she was the undeniable queen of Regency romance. She had appeared on every major morning show and was nothing short of a household name.

Jamie gestured for me to sit down in the white pleather barrel chair across from her desk. “Thanks for coming in today,” she said.

“Of course! Any time. Any time at all.”

Jamie folded her hands on the desk and said, “Look, Lila, I don’t quite know how to say this. I’ve read your new ideas and passed them along to the higher-ups, and we’re just afraid that they’re a little . . .” She squirmed in her seat.

I mean, no, this wasn’t starting particularly well, but one great adjective could turn this whole thing around.

Jamie started again. “Lila, are you familiar with Elizabeth Lancaster?”

“Um, isn’t everyone?”

Jamie laughed uncomfortably.

“I positively worship Elizabeth,” I said.

“She is the reason I wanted to become a writer. When I was a teenager, I would buy her used paperbacks for fifty cents and sneak them into the house. Of course, now I would never buy a used book, but . . .” I was rambling.

I served Elizabeth her coffee most mornings at Salty Sip.

I had never gotten up the nerve to introduce myself.

I didn’t want to fangirl and risk Elizabeth not coming back.

So I quietly served her a whole-milk cappuccino every morning and drew a heart in the foam. Because I loved her.

At a light rap on the door, I turned and practically jumped out of my chair.

It was the goddess of Apprentice: Victoria Abbott, the glossy, gorgeous, stiletto-wearing publisher.

She’d had a big dream to start a seaside publishing house, and when she had poached Elizabeth Lancaster from the large NYC press where she had published her first sixty-one books, no one had been able to believe it.

But that one brilliant move had put Apprentice on the map, and after seeing how Victoria had skyrocketed Elizabeth’s already stellar career, other authors flocked to Apprentice too.

“Hi, Lila,” she said smoothly.

“Hi, Victoria!” I was aware of how high pitched and young I sounded in contrast. And Southern. Very, very Southern.

As Victoria sat down, Jamie said, “We’re just getting started.”

Victoria nodded. “Great, then let’s cut right to the chase. Lila,” she said, turning her full attention to me, “we’re concerned that your pitches are a little stale, a little we’ve seen that before.” She paused. “More specifically, they are a little too close to Elizabeth Lancaster’s.”

I couldn’t say that didn’t sting. Then my breath caught in my throat.

Did they think I had stolen Elizabeth’s ideas?

This was one of those moments when I regretted not having an agent.

Apprentice was a boutique press that accepted unagented submissions, so it hadn’t seemed necessary.

But now, I had no idea how to handle this.

“Well, um,” I stuttered. “They are Regency romance, so they probably do feel a little familiar, but—”

“You’re great at writing Regency,” she said, cutting me off.

“We signed you thinking you would be a good fit as our next-gen Regency writer. But now, with fans clamoring for Elizabeth’s next book, we’re worried releasing anything else in the same genre would be unsatisfying for them.

And since you are obviously familiar with her work, we wondered if you would consider ghostwriting for her instead. ”

My jaw dropped, and my head swiveled from Jamie to Victoria and back to Jamie.

Victoria was known to be the no-nonsense firm hand of the publishing house, but wow.

Talk about dropping a bomb. Although this was obviously considerably better than their thinking I had stolen Elizabeth’s ideas, so that was something.

Victoria continued: “Just think what a learning opportunity this would be. Real, hands-on writing with one of the greats.”

I blew out my breath. I mean, sure, yes, I was enamored with Elizabeth. But I was trying to make my own name, my own way. I couldn’t put my own career on hold to support someone else’s. “Does she always do this? Have a ghostwriter?”

“Most certainly not,” Victoria said. “But Elizabeth has been going through a bit of a—shall we say—dry spell. And we just can’t keep putting off her next publication. We thought a ghostwriter could be a good solution for everyone.”

I shook my head. “And she asked for me?”

Victoria let out a low laugh. “Oh, no. We have no idea if she will even agree. But, well, at this point, she might not have a choice.”

A man I didn’t know with bushy eyebrows hurried in and dropped a stack of papers in front of Victoria. “That NDA you requested, Mrs. Abbott.”

“Thank you, Wade,” she called to the man’s back. She smiled at me. “Wade’s not really one for small talk.”

I knew I needed a lawyer, but I didn’t have the money for that, so I took the papers and said, “I’m going to need to read these.”

“Of course,” Victoria said smoothly. “But can I take that as a yes? We’re really on a time crunch here.”

My mind raced with all the Bookstagrammers I’d reached out to, the essay ideas I’d pitched, the social media I was desperately trying to grow.

For my own author brand. For books I wouldn’t be writing anymore.

Worst of all, if I didn’t have another novel, my whole hometown would know that I was a failure.

I would have to go back, tail between my legs, the dreamer who couldn’t hack it.

“If I do this, would you take a look at another idea from me? Maybe in a different genre, if you’re worried Elizabeth and I would overlap too much?

What about something contemporary? Contemporary romance is so in right now! ”

Jamie looked at Victoria and then nodded. “I think Elizabeth might be our Regency queen. But we could use a contemporary princess for sure.”

“Or a romantasy regent?” Victoria quipped.

I wanted to take part in the fun, but I was dangerously close to crying. I had gotten a friend to cover my shift at Salty Sip for only an hour and a half. I had imagined how I’d burst back in with amazing news. But now that was all over. Everything was over.

I had a vision of leaving Salty Sip and going to the liquor store.

Not for alcohol. For empty boxes. Because if I didn’t do this, there would be no choice but to pack up my belongings and head back home.

I was the bright, golden small-town girl who was going to make it big.

And now my star had burned out before it had ever even had a chance to rise.