Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Well that’s just great. What am I supposed to do?
I realize now as I stand on Nathaniel’s front stoop, stranded in the English countryside with no car, no cell reception, and no plan, that the situation is much more dire than InkWell let on. Our most beloved author—the man keeping the lights on at corporate—just might be past the point of saving.
There’s no denying Nathaniel is one of the most famous authors alive today. His science fiction series is wildly popular—beloved by loyal fans of the genre and new readers alike—but unfortunately, he’s blown his last three deadlines, and InkWell is more impatient than ever for his next manuscript. The release date for the final installment in the Cosmos trilogy has been pushed back twice, and there’s a very real fear that he’ll do what so many greats have done before him and leave the series unfinished forever.
I knew the situation was bad if InkWell was willing to send me across the pond. I’m the newest employee on the payroll—young, inexperienced, and the only one willing to play the role of sacrificial lamb.
I thought at worst, I’d fail and head home with my tail between my legs, and at best, I’d do the undoable: ease Nathaniel’s writer’s block, help him wrap up his award-winning trilogy, and return to America a national hero.
Turns out my worst-case scenario didn’t account for the harsh English winter. My new worst fears involve frostbite and a slow agonizing death.
Someone could have warned me that Nathaniel had gone full recluse. With his bad attitude and all that scruff, he’s practically part werewolf. Who slams the door on someone like that?!
It’s clear he wants nothing to do with me, and that’s fine. I need a plan and I need it now. I’m still on his doorstep, hovering awkwardly. It’s best that I go. Only…that damn cab is long gone by now, and my phone doesn’t have service, and I can’t quite remember which way I’m supposed to head on the main road. Did we come from the left or right?
Despite being unsure, I walk down to the short gate in front of the cottage. I’m prepared to trudge down the long path and wheel my crappy suitcase along the moonlit fields for as long as I need to until I find a solution to my problem.
Once I’m at the gate though, I can’t make myself take another step. Self-preservation kicks in, and my feet stay rooted in place. There’s no way I can leave here. I have no idea where to go. I want to turn back and ask Nathaniel for help, but I’m scared I’ll get my head bitten off again. I try my phone then curse under my breath when the Maps app won’t load.
I’m stuffing it back in my purse when I hear feet crunch in the snow behind me, and I turn to see Nathaniel coming out of his cottage, wrapped in a thick winter jacket, so much sturdier than my silly puffer. His long strides make it easy for him to reach me in no time, and then he’s standing there, a brick wall between his cottage and me.
“What are you still doing on my property?” he demands rudely.
My jaw drops at his audacity, but I recover quickly. Does he have absolutely no compassion? No heart? “I’m trying to leave! My phone isn’t working though. Can I borrow yours?”
It pains me to have to ask for help, especially from someone I’d like to tell off.
He shakes his head and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “No use. There’s no service out here. At all.”
I look up toward the night sky, talking to myself. “No service at all! Awesome!” Then I shake my head. My angry gaze lands on him again. “Well which way is town?”
I’ve taken a page out of his book and dropped all semblance of manners.
He studies me, his eyes narrowing with judgment. Then he casually nods his chin to the left, wholly unbothered by my predicament. “Sedbergh is an hour’s walk that way.”
There’s not even a hint of remorse in his tone.
I look down at my suitcase with a searing glare. “You hear that, you stupid thing? An hour. I need you to stay together until then or so help me god—”
Without another word to Nathaniel, I push through the gate and take off down the snow-covered lane, stomping in the direction he told me to go and ignoring the fact that my fingers are already starting to go numb from the cold. I only get a few yards before my suitcase meets a boulder hidden beneath a layer of snow on the road and bursts open with gusto, spilling my clothes everywhere.
I stare down at it with a wobbling bottom lip.
“Christ,” Nathaniel hisses from behind me. “Just come inside, will you?”