Playing with Words (Boggy Creek Valley #2) - Kelly Elliott Page 0,6
to my last book, about one of the side characters. Everyone fell in love with the guy and asked for his story. So, what should have been a stand-alone book was now a book and a sequel.
For the past few weeks I had been sitting for hours and staring at my laptop and maybe writing five to a thousand words a day, if that. I’d often find myself putting off writing and doing other meaningless things. Like repainting my entire two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Then there was the class on how to create stained glass I had signed up for.
I shivered. No more Pinterest for me for a while.
“Then what’s the problem, Hudson?”
My frustration grew to anger. “The problem is, I don’t want to fucking write this book, Melissa. I can’t write.”
“Everyone gets writer’s block from time to time.”
“I know that. It’s not that I don’t know what to write, I don’t want to write. There’s a difference.”
After a long exhale, she replied, “So you thought going to this little town in the middle of nowhere would bring back the desire to write?”
“It’s more than that.”
“Well, whatever it is, find your mojo and finish the book, Hudson. I’ll check back in with you in three days. Russ will want an update.”
It wasn’t like Russ to sic Melissa on any of his clients. Then again, it wasn’t like me to get so close to a deadline and not have much of anything down. He was worried, I got that. If I missed the deadline, the publisher could request the advance back. It wouldn’t come to that. I’d get the damn book written, one way or another.
“I’m hanging up now, Melissa. And just so you know, from now until I get back to New York, I’m not answering your calls.”
Before she had a chance to respond, I hung up.
With a smile, I said, “Damn, that felt good.”
“How was your day, Mr. Higgins?” asked Joanne Rogers, one of the owners of the Willow Tree Inn.
I pulled out a chair at the large dining room table and smiled at her. “Please, call me Hudson. And my day was…eventful.”
Her brows rose slightly as she placed a large basket of steaming rolls in the middle of the table. Another couple—Pete and Amanda, I think their names were—sat down across from me. We were the only guests staying at the Willow Tree at the moment.
“Well, that sounds good. I think,” Joanne stated.
“Did you get a chance to look around the town, son?” This came from Ron Rogers, Joanne’s husband who was sitting at the table with us as well.
“Some. I spent some time at the bookstore on Main Street. Turning Pages.”
Amanda gasped. “Oh, that bookstore is so cute! And the owner…what was her name again, honey?” She turned to look at Pete.
He tried to quickly swallow the roll he’d popped into his mouth. “Greer, I think.”
Joanne smiled. “Greer is a sweetheart. She’s also the go-to for anything you need to know about Boggy Creek and the valley. She’s sort of our town historian.”
“Is that so?” Amanda asked. “We’ll have to stop back by tomorrow and chat with her.”
“Are you a reader, Hudson?” Ron asked.
It was then I noticed Pete looking at me with a knowing smile. He either knew who I was, or figured I was hanging out at the bookstore because of Greer. I couldn’t blame him…after all, Greer was stunningly beautiful.
Focusing on Ron, who was now slicing up a pot roast that smelled divine, I answered, “I’m an avid reader, yes, sir. But I wasn’t there to read. I’m actually writing a book, and I’ve come to Boggy Creek to finish it.”
“I knew it!” shouted Pete as everyone looked in his direction. “I knew you were Hudson Higgins, the suspense writer. Dude, I love your books; I’ve read them all! When I heard your name, I nearly tackle-hugged you.”
“Pete, you promised,” Amanda whined.
I let out a soft chuckle. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my books. It’s always nice to meet a reader of mine.”
Amanda sat back in her seat and rolled her eyes as she looked from her husband to me. “Oh, trust me, he’s read every one of your books, and since he saw you check in yesterday, he’s been hell bent on proving to me that you’re the Hudson Higgins.”
Ron handed me the plate of carved roast and smiled. “So you’re a writer, huh? Have you released many books?”
Before I could reply, Pete answered. “Indeed, he has. He’s released forty-five, full-length novels, all of