Once Upon a Date - Susan Hatler Page 0,32

was a bit strong, but I’d never forget his three Us: unrealistic, unimaginable and unpublishable.

The doors opened, and I smoothed down my skirt as I walked into the lobby, my heels clicking as I went. Even though this was only a formality, I wanted to dress appropriately as I would if I were meeting, say, Jodi. I shook my head to clear thoughts of the other offer from my head. I had committed to signing with Brooks, and my loyalty was definitely with him.

This time, there was a receptionist behind the desk, who looked up as I approached. “Can I help you?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m here to see Brooks Keller.”

“Are you Michelle Moss?”

“That’s me.”

A huge smile spread across her face. “I, um, loved your book.”

I blinked, surprised. “You read it?”

“Three times,” she said, looking a bit embarrassed. “It’s the best book I’ve read all year. Would you please sign it for me once it’s published?”

“Of course I will. I’m so glad to hear you enjoyed the story,” I said, resisting the urge to jump up and down and squeal with joy.

Brooks entered the lobby from the hall. “Michelle, you’re here. Come on in. Julia, could you hold my calls and arrange for some coffee, please?”

“Of course, Mr. Keller,” she said, as I realized she was the second person to love my book, without saying it needed changes.

I walked with Brooks down the hall and into his office. He gestured to the seat in front of his desk where I’d sat before, while he sat on the other side.

“Okay, so . . .” He pulled a stack of papers from a file on his desk, and put his glasses on as he scanned the cover page. “This is a copy of the contract between Prince & Company and you. Read through it carefully. Let me know if you’d like your lawyer to look it over. If you’re happy with everything then you can sign here . . . and here.”

I watched him slide the contract across the desk, and click the pen open before handing it to me. I took the pen, shaking my head. “Who would’ve thought that I, of all people, would be the very first author on your list? Isn’t it weird? I mean, of all the novels you could have chosen, you chose mine. It’s fate, I’m telling you.”

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “A deal’s a deal. You know I’ve always been a man of my word, Michelle. I said I’d publish it the way it is if you won, and you did. Congratulations.”

I frowned at his words as I glanced through the pages, and finally set the pen down on his desk. “Brooks, you do believe in the book, right?”

He nodded. “Of course. The writing is superb.”

There was a knock on the door, and Julia entered, carrying a tray with coffee and biscuits. She set it down on the desk.

I bit my bottom lip. “And you accept that the book is realistic now?”

He hesitated. “Well, not exactly. I still think it’s far-fetched, but in a cute way, and readers love that kind of thing, so it’s all good. I’m only one opinion, Julia loved it.”

“Yes, she told me,” I said, wishing his enthusiasm matched hers.

“Readers love that kind of thing, so it’s all good.”

“That kind of thing?”

“Whimsical romance, even if it’s unrealistic.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “How can you still say it’s unrealistic, Brooks? It worked for us.”

He reached across the desk and took my hand. “A date in a broom closet would have worked for us, Michelle. We are meant to be.”

“That’s sweet,” I said, because I felt the same way. But my brain immediately went back to my book and the fact that my would-be editor didn’t believe in it one hundred percent. My head kept telling me to just accept what he was saying and that it didn’t make a difference. But my heart was slightly disappointed that he still felt that my book wouldn’t resonate as real the way I wrote it. I picked up the pen and signed my name.

“You know,” I said, letting out a long breath as he reached for the signed contract. “I turned down a very lucrative offer for you. Paradise Bound was very excited to acquire my book and they loved it just the way it is.”

He pulled his hand away, leaving the papers on the desk, as he stared at me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You didn’t tell