don’t think we’ve met. Bradley O’Donnell.”
She held out her hand, appreciating his firm shake. “Lacey O’Connor, Langham & Co.” She knew exactly who he was. Bradley and his sister Natalie had built a home improvement empire from the ground up. Now they had an HGTV show, a chain of homeware stores, and they’d just launched a whole foods brand. Their first book two years before had gone straight to the top of the list.
“Oh, sorry.” Michelle managed to snap herself out of her Bradley-induced adoration. “Lacey, we’ve just signed Bradley and Natalie for their next book. Part memoir, part home and living, part self-help.”
Lacey felt her eyebrows rise. If they could hit all of those niches, Schnell & Cohen would be making bank. Though they needed to since Lacey had no doubt that the advance would be what Publishers’ Weekly would term a “very, very nice deal.”
“Brad, Lacey is the head of publicity at Langham & Co. She’s one of the best with well over a hundred New York Times’ best sellers in her portfolio.” Michelle gave Lacey a significant look. “Brad and Natalie are going to be very involved in the formation of their marketing and publicity teams. Schnell & Cohen are putting our full weight behind this book.”
In other words, Lacey had just been handed the opportunity to pitch for the biggest account of the year. Possibly the last five years, given the current state of the publishing industry.
“Congratulations.” She tilted her head toward the golden boy. “I’d be very happy to talk to you about your project and what you’re looking for whenever suits.”
“We’re both here now.” Bradley swiped a couple of champagnes off a passing tray and handed one to her.
“Okay.” Lacey took a sip of her champagne to give her a moment to get her mental Rolodex in order. Brad and Natalie were a publishing dream. Small town background. Natalie had three Insta-perfect kids. Brad, as far as she knew, was single. Natalie led all the style and design work, and Brad was the quintessential handyman. Their easy sibling banter had set their show apart from its pilot. The demographics they reached were insane.
“I’ll leave you two to chat.” Michelle gracefully removed herself from the conversation. Her gap was filled by a waiter with another tray of food.
“Smoked salmon rillette?”
Suddenly, Lacey was hungry for the first time since Meredith had walked into the boardroom. “Yes, please.” Lacey picked one up and popped it into her mouth. Oh, it was so good. This was what she’d been missing out on all these years?
“Thank you.” Brad helped himself to one as well, and she looked up to see him studying her with a cryptic smile.
“What?” She was sure she had managed the bite-sized piece of food perfectly. No chance of there being a piece of creme marring her lipstick.
He leaned in, his voice dropping. “You ate something. Natalie hates these kinds of events because she says none of the women ever eat. The amount of food wastage drives her crazy.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll find the minimum-wage catering staff out back, more than happy to take care of the food wastage.” At least that was what had happened in the catering gigs she’d done back in college days. On a good night, after she’d eaten her fill, she’d been able to take Anna and Rachel home an abundance of rich people food.
“Well, that’s doubly good news then. I can go home and tell Natalie that not only have I found a New York publicist who eats but also assuage her worries about where all the leftover food goes.”
And with that, whether he intended it or not, Lacey knew exactly how the dynamic worked. Brad was in charge of the shortlisting, but Natalie would make the final decision. Her job tonight was to get the nod from Brad and make it to Natalie.
“So.” Brad took a sip of his drink and Lacey catalogued the way he moved subtly closer to her as he did so. “Tell me about yourself.” He held up a finger. “Something I won’t read on your official website bio. Michelle will package up all of that stuff. Natalie and I are more interested in knowing the people we might be working with.” Subtle emphasis on the might.
She had to hand it to him. Bradley O’Donnell might sell the small town schtick, but he was as smooth and polished as any big-city corporate exec.
She knew exactly how to play this. Even though she hated it. “I