Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,17

ready.”

She nodded. “Is tomorrow okay?”

I eyed her. “You can read all this and mark it up by tomorrow?”

One small shoulder rose and fell in a shrug. “Sure. I have to work on my piece for the signing yesterday, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

I felt the weight lift from my shoulders. It’d piled on so gradually, I hadn’t even noticed it was there. “That would be phenomenal. Message me in the morning and let me know when you can come over.”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. I swear, a gentle breeze could bring Amelia Hall to a full blush. The thought made me wonder if I could actually make her blush so hard, she fainted.

“Any initial thoughts?” I fished shamelessly.

She frowned. “Ah, no. I don’t want to say anything until I’ve read them.”

I tried not to pout. “No thoughts? None? Not even a tiny little baby thought?”

Her nose wrinkled.

“Come on, Amelia,” I said smoothly, doing my best to persuade her. “Don’t you know writers have insatiable egos? If you don’t give me a little something, I’ll be thinking about it at three a.m. in the heat of a staring contest with my ceiling.”

“Well, I like the idea of the post-apocalyptic one, but I’m also prone to this one. The one with the dragon quest.” She flipped through them. “All your heroes are male.”

“Heroes usually are,” I joked.

Amelia shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Your protagonists, I mean. Have you ever thought of writing a female lead?”

“Never,” I answered without hesitation.

“Why not?” She frowned, her sweet bottom lip poking out. She meant it to look hard, but nothing about her was hard. Not a single thing.

“Because I’m not a woman, and I don’t want to offend them.”

“That’s like saying you can’t write diversity because you’re white.”

One of my brows arched as I gave her a look. “Tell me, has anyone ever reviewed your reviews? Because, when a white guy writes women and diversity, everyone who wanted it from them says, But not like that.”

Her brows drew together. “Well…no one has reviewed my reviews. Not exactly. But…I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Goodbooks, but that place is a battlefield. I’ve been in my fair share of internet arguments over books before, sometimes in the comments of my own reviews.”

A dry laugh escaped me. “Oh, I’ve been to that website—once. I’m no masochist. I much prefer to ignore people who hate me.”

“Except me.”

“Yes, except you, but you insist you don’t hate me. So at least we have that.” I caught my earned smile and put it in my pocket. “You weren’t posting reviews with Liz Lemon eye-rolling GIFs just to get a rise out of people. You took the time to put together thoughtful feedback that was absolutely true. To be honest, those reviews sometimes hurt worse.”

Her frown relaxed, softening with something akin to guilt. “They do?”

I nodded. “Because they press our soft spots, the bruises we have, the blind spots in our process.”

Understanding flickered behind her eyes.

“Anyway, it was Theo who first found you. When I was with Simpson and Schubert, he always made sure they sent you advanced copies. You’re one of my top bloggers. Your reviews sell my books. And I’m hoping your perspective and insight can help save the next one.”

With that, her face melted into empathy, smiling with sincerity. “I hope I can help, too. It’s actually something I love—helping people. I majored in English and considered going into elementary education.”

I pictured her standing in front of a kindergarten class, and the thought warmed me up from the middle. “Why didn’t you?”

She laughed. “I can barely speak to strangers, and I typically avoid public, except under strict circumstances.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” She thought for a second. “It has to be somewhere I really want to go. Like the swing club where my friend plays or a movie I’m dying to see. Or the bar my friends and I go to every week. That’s another thing. I have to have a buffer. Usually, that consists of my friends.”

“No boyfriend?”

Her cheeks were smudged with color again. “That whole not-talking-to-strangers thing kind of puts a damper on the dating thing. But I’m working on it.”

I laughed, wondering what kind of guy she liked, wondering what kind of guy could take Amelia Hall home. “You don’t seem to have trouble talking to me.”

She doodled on her page, her eyes on the paper. “I was scared to death at the bookstore. If I didn’t want this job with Times so badly, I would have