On Loverose Lane (Return to Dublin Street #1)

5. Beth

CHAPTER FIVE

BETH

I ’d have to reply to the rest of my emails whenever I could get a minute at the book signing I was on my way to. As such, I pulled up Lily’s podcast to listen to as I drove through the city center to the bookstore at Fort Kinnaird.

The podcast, Seek and You Shall Find , was a dating podcast I’d started while at the University of Edinburgh. It was named in honor of the university motto and was inspired by my goal to find my true love. I know, I know, that sounds cheesy. And I’d never outright say that was my goal because I didn’t think my mouth was capable of forming the words true love . But when you were raised by a mum and dad like mine, who were madly in love to this very day, and whose close friends were all in beautiful, strong, loving relationships, it made you want to find the same.

My mum met my dad when she was twenty-two. I was already two years past the age she met Dad and was no closer to finding “the one.” The podcast had also been a much-needed distraction after I began my university career as a grief-stricken, anxiety-riddled eighteen-year-old who needed something more than academia to get her out of bed.

Throughout my four years at uni, me, Cara, and Michaela had documented our dating life with the podcast. It had grown so popular, people from all over the world listened in. We even got sponsorship to run ads and became a huge hit on social media. What started off as a fun way for me and my friends to commiserate over how hard dating was became something for people from all over to do the same.

Sadly, I couldn’t keep it up. Lily Sawyer, the daughter of my parents’ friends Nate and Olivia Sawyer, joined the podcast when she started her first year, which was my final year. It shocked everyone when she decided to co-host the show. Her younger sister, January, was the loud, outgoing one. Lily was funny but quiet, more reserved. January was known for being protective of her kind, introverted sister. However, Lily became a different person on the podcast. I didn’t know if it was because it was just her voice, no one could see her, but she was a lot more like January when she was hosting the dating show. She’d been running it for three years now and it was as popular as ever.

“Welcome to Seek and You Shall Find .” My pseudo-cousin’s familiar voice filled my car as I hit the busy city center traffic. “Today on the podcast, we’re going to talk about grooming. No, not pet grooming. We’re talking about the manicuring of the female forest.”

I laughed, shaking my head at her nonsense. Despite the next university year not starting for another few weeks, Lily and her friends kept up with the podcast to stay relevant enough so people wouldn’t forget to stream it.

“Why is this today’s topic? Because my dear co-host Sierra was shamed . That’s right— shamed by her date last weekend for trimming her lady garden too thoroughly. What the heck, I say. What the actual heck? First, don’t do that. No shaming allowed when it comes to consensual sex, people. Second, how much is too much and how little is too little? I mean, I thought I knew until now. We asked you to call in with your thoughts. Who do we have first, Sierra?”

“We have Kylie,” Sierra answered in her American accent. “She’s a student here at the university. And I’m hoping Kylie is as horrified for me as everyone else has been that the asshole I took to bed last weekend had the audacity to scold me for my Hollywood. It’s my lady garden. Like I said to the guy at the time, I can pull every fucking weed out of there if I want, asshole, and your hose is no longer welcome in my front yard.”

Chuckling, I felt a wave of nostalgia hit. I tried to listen to the podcast every week, and every single time, it took me back to uni. I thought I was stressed out then, but I’d give anything to return to those days. The last three years had flown by. I felt like I’d worked every hour of my life since. And there was still no sign of Mr. Right.

“Kylie, are you there?” Lily asked.

“I’m here!” a chirpy girl with a posh English accent called down the line. “This is so cool! I’m such a fan, ladies. So, I know I’m supposed to be sharing stories about the pubic foliage management—and he’s an arsehole, Sierra, you keep doing you, babe—but I really wanted to give you a heads-up about this new podcast on campus. Have you heard of the Potterrow Blokes ?”

Potterrow was the main student hub for the campus.

“Uh … vaguely.” Lily’s tone suggested annoyance. She hadn’t told me about this new podcast. “They started their podcast before summer, correct?”

“Yes. They’re students at the uni. Four anonymous guys. Anyway, theirs is basically the male version of this, and they’ve been growing in popularity. But I think you should know they’ve started to attack your show.”

Before I could hear Lily’s response, my ringtone blared through my car speakers, cutting off the podcast. A glance at the dashboard screen told me it was Mum. “Morning, Mum.”

“Good morning, baby.” Even after nearly three decades spent in Scotland, she had more than a twang of her American accent. I might have been known for mimicking (mocking) her weird Scottish-American mash-up. “Do you want to tell me why my calendar alerted me to an Instagram Live for this evening?” My mum’s husky voice was at once familiar and soothing … and bloody annoying at that very moment.

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.”

Glancing over at Peter who was talking animatedly to his readers, I reminded myself that this right here was one of the reasons I loved my job. The power of social media never ceased to amaze me—how it could elevate businesses to places they never imagined, including my own.

I just … sometimes … it felt I was all work and no play.

For some stupid reason, Callan Keen’s face flashed across my mind.

Probably because he seemed to know how to play, play, play.

But I didn’t want to play the game like he did.

I didn’t want a revolving door of men coming through my apartment.

I wanted what Joss and Braden Carmichael had.

Maybe then, life would stop feeling like one long, constant working day.