Hearts and Hooves (Hearts in Hawthorne #4)

Prologue

MANHATTAN—FEbrUARY

S ummer Sutherland finished composing her email and attached the manuscript she had edited to it.

She hit send and sat back, sighing. Over her eight years at Liberty House, she had worked her way up from editorial assistant to copy editor, then assistant editor, and now senior editor.

She was partnering with several midlist authors and even had a dozen others who had hit bestseller lists.

Her usual habit was to edit one manuscript at a time so that it had her full attention, adding suggestions and asking questions throughout it.

She then wrote an overall letter to the author, giving her general impression of the work, always careful to praise the effort because writing a novel was hard work.

Some authors presented her with a clean manuscript which had few typos and flowed beautifully.

These were the submissions where she had very few editorial notes, and they were a pleasure to edit.

Most hit a middle ground, with work needed regarding grammar and typos and several notes to the author on ways to expand a scene, create a new one, or even delete a scene or entire chapter, working that content in somewhere else.

These took more time to edit and involved more back-and-forth between editor and author before the manuscript was passed on to a line editor and then proofreader.

A few manuscripts she received were what her mom would call a genteel mess, with grammatical problems from run-on sentences to subject/verb agreement problems to atrocious spell-check errors.

They also were the challenging ones which involved tearing the manuscript apart and giving the authors ideas for ways to put things back together in a coherent fashion.

This last one she had just worked on was the latter.

The author was becoming well-known, and because of that, she didn’t think she needed any editing.

It was because she had great editing that her books sold so well.

Summer almost wished she could turn this belligerent author over to another editor, but Dragon Lady would never go for that since she had specifically assigned Monica Sullivan to Summer.

Her suspicion was that her boss believed working with Monica would push Summer to resign.

Dragon Lady was the nickname Summer had for Millicent Bennington, the editor-in-chief of Liberty House.

For some reason, she had never liked Summer.

It hadn’t kept her from moving up the ranks, but Dragon Lady continually threw up roadblocks, creating new, ingenious ways to make certain that Summer failed.

In the beginning, she was able to lie low and avoid Dragon Lady.

Summer also had some great professionals at Liberty House who mentored her.

They all had remarked on her talent for editing and coming up with creative ideas to improve a manuscript, and they even helped her move up the ladder at the publishing house.

Now, however, Dragon Lady was her direct boss and would do her annual evaluation for the first time this year.

Her computer dinged, and she saw she had an email from Monica, the testy author she’d just emailed.

Knowing Monica, she had been hovering at her computer, waiting for the manuscript and notes to be returned.

There was no way that the author had had time to look over the notes Summer included with the manuscript because there were plenty of them. With dread, she opened the email.

Summer –

I just received your general notes. Glad that you enjoyed my latest creation. I think it’s my best yet!

However, I opened the document and saw you have SO many notes attached. That is VERY disappointing to me. I always give Liberty House my BEST effort, but you never seem to recognize that and go out of your way to make my life miserable.

I wanted to do you the courtesy of giving you a heads up. I am going to ask Millicent to assign me to another editor. Our relationship is strained—at best—and I feel you are stifling my creativity.

Hope there are no hard feelings!

Hugs!

Monica

This would not bode well. Apprehension filled Summer as her eyes skimmed the email again, wincing at every exclamation mark. Dragon Lady would be pissed. Not at Monica.

At Summer.

She prepared herself, knowing she would be called in soon.

She didn’t want to start another manuscript at this point.

That would be unfair to its author because she wouldn’t be able to give the work her full attention.

Instead, she scrolled through her emails, answering several.

She made one phone call to an author who had left her a voicemail to call her.

“Hey, Celia. It’s Summer. What can I do for you?”

“I hate to tell you this, Summer, but I’m not going to hit my March 1 deadline.”

A sinking feeling filled her. Just another strike against her Dragon Lady would use.

“What’s up, Celia? You’re so reliable, usually turning in your submissions early.”

The author began crying. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now.

My husband was diagnosed with leukemia six weeks ago.

Everything has been a blur since then. We’ve seen two oncologists.

Started him on chemo and radiation. All of a sudden, my nice, quiet life of spending days in my office writing have flown out the window.

I’m driving him from appointment to appointment.

Caring for him when we get home because he’s really ill from the chemo.

And the few minutes I have to myself? I lock myself in my office and just cry.

I can’t be creative now, Summer. I just can’t. ”

Her heart ached for Celia. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this with Rob. Being ill yourself is bad enough, but when you see someone you love suffering, it’s rough. I know you’re the kind of person who is being the strong one in front of him.”

“Exactly,” Celia said, sniffing. “I don’t want him to see how upset I am. We have two teenagers. They’re also falling apart because of this. I’ve always been the glue in our family, and it’s even more important for me to be that glue now, Summer.”

“I get it.”

“Writing is the last thing on my mind. I’m just too emotionally drained to do it right now. And I worry about what if Rob doesn’t make it? I know my books are finally starting to sell well, but I don’t make enough to take over our mortgage and send two kids to college.”

Celia began sobbing. “What if I have to go back to being an accountant? My soul will dry up. I adore writing, Summer. I earn enough now to supplement what Rob makes, but …” Her voice trailed off.

“Listen. What’s important now is your mental and emotional health, as well as your family’s. Take care of Rob and the kids.” Summer paused. “How much do you have written?”

“All but the last five chapters,” Celia told her. “I’m so close to finishing. I even know how to wrap it up. I just can’t get myself in front of a keyboard to actually do it.”

“Send me what you have.”

“I haven’t done my final read-through,” Celia said. “You know I like to read from start to finish once the manuscript’s done to check for inconsistencies.”

“That’ll be my job this time,” Summer assured her. “And send me any notes for those last few chapters if you’ve written them down.”

Celia sniffed. “Okay.”

“I’ll edit what you have. You know it doesn’t take much to polish your work, Celia. You’re one of my favorite authors to work with.”

“I appreciate hearing that, Summer. I needed to hear that.”

“Once I’ve done my part, I’ll check in with you. If you still are in a bad spot, I’ll finish up for you. I know your style. Your voice.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. I volunteered,” she corrected.

“And I may not even have to do that. You may hit a point where you’ll need writing as an outlet.

I had one author who accompanied her son to chemo and wrote during those four hours of his treatment because she knew he would need her once they got home.

Her son put on his headphones and zoned out.

She wrote. It turned out it was the only time she was able to write.

You’ll just have to play things by ear.”

“Thank you for listening, Summer. You’re not just my editor. You’re my friend. I appreciate all that you do for me.”

“Call if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

Summer hung up and said a little prayer for Rob’s health, as well as Celia’s peace of mind. She went to the restroom, needing a break from her office. When she returned, the assistant who sat outside her office and worked for her and three other editors looked at her hesitantly, biting her lip.

“I assume my presence is requested in the big office?” she asked lightly.

“Yes. ASAP.”

“Heading there now,” she said, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

When she reached Dragon Lady’s office, her assistant took one look at Summer and quietly said, “You can go on in.”

The look of pity on the woman’s face had Summer’s heart racing. She knocked lightly on the door and entered, closing it behind her, not wanting anyone to hear what went down between them.

Because Summer’s gut told her she was about to be fired.

She lingered at the door because Dragon Lady was on the phone, and she did not want to disturb her space or privacy.

Her eyes roamed the room, however, landing on various pictures displayed of her boss and her husband, Ted Bennington, the owner and publisher of Liberty House.

Ted had been very supportive of Summer, the complete opposite of his wife.

Dragon Lady laughed merrily. “We’ll be there for drinks at seven. See you then.”

The minute she placed the phone in its cradle, her real face came out. Gone was the fake, social smile. Instead, the crease between her brows deepened as she frowned at Summer.

Without waiting to be asked, Summer crossed the room and took a seat in front of the desk, knowing the ax would now fall.