Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,135
It’s so sweet and cinnamon-y I almost pucker. Apparently she knew I needed the sugar and spice rush today.
“You write romance. They were together by the end of the first book. What’s left?” I ask.
She laughs. “Farm Love was a romantic comedy with a twist of suspense, not romance. Don’t you remember? You read it.”
Um...not really, but okay.
“It seems like ages ago. There’s a difference?”
She shrugs. “There doesn’t have to be. Rom-com can go the women’s fiction route instead of conventional romance.”
“Uh—again, there’s a difference?”
“Women’s fiction focuses on the journey, the ups and downs, and the heroine’s growth is central to the story. The man can grow, or he can be replaced. If I went the romance route with that book, I’d be looking for a friend to write a story about. But I went the women’s fiction route and straddled the line so well no one will ever know.” Her voice goes up into a singsong pitch on the last few words.
“So what does that mean for the sequel?”
She looks at me without breaking eye contact. “It means life keeps happening after the happily ever after. The characters have to continue working on themselves and their relationships. Life is chock-full of new struggles.”
“I’ll take the bait. What’s your sequel about?”
She smiles and holds her hands out like she’s framing something.
“I’m calling it Hog Fights Under City Lights. Our lady got her life back and returns to the big city after a fight. The ex-Marine farmer man follows her and tries to win her back, but she’s not going to make it easy. He isn’t a city slicker. They’re too different.”
“How does he win her back?” I ask.
“Well, all the fighting leads to really good makeup sex, and then Sir Oinkswell—”
“Stop. Words I could have gone my whole life without hearing from my mother,” I grumble.
“You mean Sir Oinkswell?” She winks at me. “Our hero has to make some grand, heartwarming gesture, of course. Oh, and groveling. It ain’t a real knock-down love fight without plenty of that.”
“Grand gesture?”
“Hearts and flowers and tears. A life or death risk. I’m still working it out, but they’re going to have to learn to compromise. If only I knew what a certain assistant and her boss were squabbling over, I could probably help them compromise too. I just hope good makeup sex is part of the bargain—”
“Mom! You’re terrible, and I’m pretty sure that’s no longer an option,” I hiss, surprising myself. Like I ever wanted to let my romance writer mom in on my sex life.
“Aha—busted! Now do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No. I just came for cinnamon coffee.” My whole face warms.
“How much did it cost you to get here for coffee?” She laughs. “You should’ve just bought a cup of coffee. Don’t worry, baby, you guys will work it out.”
I sigh.
It’s not worth saying I don’t want to work anything out. Mom believes everybody deserves a happy ending, even in real life, and there’ll be no convincing her otherwise.
When I leave my parents’ house, I still have zero messages, no missed calls, and no response to my email. Magnus has already built up three hundred unopened emails.
I know because I check. He’s going to be buried alive.
When I get back to my apartment, I’m greeted with the scent of pepperoni, melted cheese, and...chocolate?
“Chocolate pizza?” I ask, turning my nose up into the air for a better whiff.
“I ordered pizza and made cookies. Netflix?” Paige asks from her perch on the couch.
“Sounds good to me. What are we watching?”
“No idea. You pick,” she says, sliding the remote over.
Great. Now I’m on the heartbreak outreach pizza party program.
“Okay. Just let me grab some food first.”
I make a plate and sit down on the floor. I’ve had enough self-pity for one day. But there’s also this sense that without HeronComm and the despicable Mr. Heron, my whole life grinds to a halt. I’m frozen in time with nowhere to turn but pizza and bad TV.
She grins and pats my shoulder. “Congrats. You just survived day one without the asshat.”
“The asshat is dead to me,” I lie, forcing a triumphant smile.
“It gets easier,” she whispers.
God, how I wish she were right.
All night long, I fight the urge to pack up my stuff, jump in my new car, and ride off into the moonlight where I’ll never have to think about Magnus again.
24
Smart Stick (Magnus)
I’m stuck in office hell, trying to claw through four thousand emails, when my desk phone rings. Gavin Stuart