Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,57

his attention returned to me. “And so is your newest book, Wes. I was pleased to read it. Smooth work, nice wrapped-up ending, an easy sell, I think.”

“That’s good news,” I said.

Harriet turned from the window. “It’s brilliant news. We think we can release it before Christmas.”

I frowned. “Doesn’t that seem a little rushed? I mean, I figured there’d be some rewrites or revisions.”

“Minor things,” Wilson said almost dismissively. “Nothing that you won’t be able to turn back to us within a week, I’m sure. We have three cover designs already in the works and as always will refer to you to choose which one you like best. Harriet here has been scheduling some promotional dates where she’ll send signed copies to local bookstores. Which means, of course, that you’re going to have to sit down like you did last time and sign some copies. You good with that?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

Harriet came over and sat down in the open chair beside me. She folded her arms under her breasts. “You know, these promotional tours would be financially more successful if people were coming to meet the author.”

“No,” I said, knowing where she was going with this. “Absolutely not.”

“All right, all right.” Harriet held both hands up innocently, flashing me her palms. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I was just saying.”

Wilson chuckled. “I understand your desire for privacy but Harriet has a valid point.”

“I never said it wasn’t valid,” I said. “I’m just not interested in putting myself out there like that. Besides, how greedy do we have to be? We make more than a good living on these books. And I already have an idea for my next one.”

Harriet blinked at me.

Wilson leaned back in his seat. The leather groaned and he pressed the tips of his fingers together. “Do you now?”

I nodded earnestly. “Yes. I’m in a good place writing wise. I figure I should take advantage of it.”

“I like your style, Parker,” Wilson said.

“Care to share what it’s about?” Harriet asked.

I shook my head. “Not yet. Let me get something on the page and see how it takes shape. But you guys will be the first to know when it becomes something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wilson said as he got smoothly to his feet. He held out a hand for me to shake as I stood as well. “As always, it’s been a pleasure, Wes. I can say confidently you’re one of the easiest writers my agency works with.”

I shot Harriet a look. “My agent likes to convince me otherwise when we’re running up against a deadline.”

Wilson chuckled and smoothed out his suit jacket. “Well, Harriet has a job to do, too. Someone has to keep you in line, don’t they?”

Harriet lifted her chin defiantly. “See? Wilson understands. It’s not easy dealing with you writer types, Wes. You have minds of your own and you’re hard to read. All I know is I have to keep you on your toes and I have to make sure you hit your deadlines because if left to your own devices—”

“I know, I know,” I cut her off. “I’d wither away to nothing and both of our careers would go down the toilet.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

“Your approach still isn’t my favorite,” I muttered.

Harriet got to her feet and nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “That’s because it’s effective and what you need. A firm hand and—”

“Someone bossing me around,” I finished for her.

Harriet nodded approvingly. “I feel so understood.”

I rolled my eyes at her, thanked Wilson for seeing us today, and made my way out of the office with Harriet on my heels. She wrapped an arm through mine and her hip bumped against mine as we walked down the long hallway of the publishing house to the elevators.

“Good job in there,” she said. “I mean it. I know you’ve been a little frustrated with me lately but I’m glad Wilson didn’t see that. I can stand to back down a bit, if that’s what you want.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Who are you and what have you done with my agent?”

She rolled her eyes and used the hand draped through mine to flick the inside of my forearm. “I’m just saying. I know I can be a pain in the ass. And maybe, just maybe, I could stand to give you a bit of space, too. Maybe I don’t need to stay on top of you as diligently as I think I do. If you