My Cover Model (A Love Like That #1) - R.L. Kenderson Page 0,17

was right. It was because I liked him. But, if I took a step back and objectively thought about it, there would be nothing significant about me buying a picture of him after I met him. Just like I had done with the authors I’d met.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“It’s because I come from a long line of smart people, including my aunt.”

I laughed. “Good answer.”

She pretended to brush off her shoulder. “I know.” She nudged me. “Do it. Buy the picture. You’re never going to be happy with anything else if this is the one you want.”

She was right again. And he was only one person. I was going to have hundreds of fans who would hopefully love my cover.

“Okay, I’ll e-mail the photographer and my book cover designer.”

She clapped her hands, and her brown eyes sparkled. “Yay.”

“Go on. Get out of here, so I can get that done. Then, we can start dinner.”

She walked toward the door. “Just remember who helped you. You might want to dedicate this book to me.”

“I’ve already dedicated two others to you.”

“You can never have too many dedicated to me.”

I laughed as she walked away. Then, I opened up my e-mail and drafted my first message.

Twelve

Sydney

I left my office, feeling very excited. The photographer had thankfully been available right away. I sent my money, he sent the photo, and I sent it off to my book designer. I couldn’t wait to see the finished product.

Jessica and I had been working together since I started, and we had become friends. She told me she’d already been working on some ideas but was just waiting for the final main piece. Whenever she sent my book covers, it was like Christmas, and I was a child who couldn’t wait to open my gift.

I walked into my kitchen in a great mood to see Lexie had already started working on dinner. She was peeling the potatoes because she knew I hated that job.

“You’re the best niece ever. Why can’t you be my kid?”

She laughed as I grabbed the two pounds of beef from the fridge. Tonight, we were having meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It wasn’t a fancy dinner, but it was my late mother’s recipe and my father’s favorite. He couldn’t cook to save his life, so I enjoyed making it for him.

I got out the rest of the ingredients, but before I got my hands dirty, I poured myself a glass of wine.

“Can I have some?”

I laughed. “No.”

We got into our cooking groove, and before I knew it, the meatloaf was in the oven, the potatoes were on the stove, and my family was at my door.

“Smells good in here, Sydney,” my father boomed as he came through the door.

“Thanks, Dad.”

My brother and sister-in-law were right behind him.

“Hey, Ryan. Hey, Grace,” I said. “Where are Ben and Gretchen?”

“Slowly getting out of the car,” my brother said. “When you can’t turn your phone off for two minutes, it makes normal activities twice as long.”

Ben was thirteen, and Gretchen was eleven, and I thought they were worse than Lexie when it came to their phones. To me, that always seemed backward.

The two of them came through the door a few seconds later, both with their eyes on their screens.

“Hey. Nice of you to make it,” I said.

They both looked up and smiled.

“Hey, Aunt Sydney,” Ben said, and Gretchen gave me a hug.

Everyone took off their coats and hung them in the closet.

My father had his usual Minnesota Vikings jersey on even though football season was over. It was either Vikings, Twins, or a Wild jersey or shirt. I honestly didn’t think he owned anything besides sports clothes. Maybe one button-up shirt for those rare, special occasions, like a wedding.

My brother was a pharmaceutical rep and dressed up for his job, so he liked to wear T-shirts and jeans on his days off. Don’t be fooled however. They were two-hundred-dollar jeans and fifty-dollar T-shirts. No Hanes or Fruit of the Loom for Ryan.

And my sister-in-law was always dressed up and looking fancy. We got along really well, but we were so different. I was wearing Old Navy jeans and a comfortable sweater from Maurice’s. My brown hair had air-dried after my shower, and I’d brushed once this afternoon. I wore minimal makeup that had probably worn off from this morning. I thought I’d gotten my fashion sense from my dad.

Grace, on the other hand, looked like she was going out