Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
She tilts her head toward the easel. “I’m done if you want to look.”
Hell yes, I do. I head over and she joins me, standing back to eye it critically while I get in close. “I knew you were adding a tail,” I say after a second. “But I didn’t expect that showing just the tip would convey how big the monster is. It’s obviously huge. You don’t show that. Yet somehow I know it is. You’re fucking incredible.”
“Should I rename it ‘Just the Tip’?”
Deflecting again. Because she doesn’t know what to do with a genuine compliment. I want to wring Angela Walker’s skinny fucking neck.
“You can sell it to me.” Her face goes pink and I stand back with her, taking in the whole. “For someone who doesn’t like fiction…this is fiction. Just in a visual format.”
“I never said I don’t like fiction. I just don’t read it. But I don’t only watch documentaries. And I love fantasy art. Even fantasy art on fiction books,” she says with an affected shudder. “Sci-fi covers, the covers of pulp magazines. And I like horror movies, too.”
“Now we’re talking. What’s your very favorite?”
“How does someone decide something like that?”
“If it’s playing, you stop and watch it, every time. Even if you come in during the middle or the end.”
“Ah.” Her eyes narrow as she thinks. “Dog Soldiers. Maybe The Descent.”
“Fuck yeah. You like horror like I like horror: isolated locations, a group fighting for their lives against monsters, no hope of outside help.”
“That’s a fairly accurate summary of my overall preferences. What’s your favorite?”
“The Thing.”
She nods. “That’s high on my list, too. And it’s especially appropriate in an isolated and snowbound cabin. Your megafauna zombies—is that kind of like The Thing?”
“There’s some heavy inspiration. My book ends a little more happily, though.”
“Hey! Spoiler.”
“You can’t be spoiled for a fiction book you’ll never read.”
“Maybe I’ll make an exception.” She stoops down between the armchairs and hauls out Harris’s collection.
Oh shit.
One by one, she begins sorting through them, examining the covers. “You write as Xander Bryant? Not James?”
“Not James.” Though my heart’s thundering, I have to grin at that. “My middle name is Alexander. Bryant is my mother’s maiden name. It was going to be Alex Bryant but my agent said Xander was more memorable. And some other Alex Bryant had already taken the website. But I could get Xander Bryant dot com.”
She laughs and nods. “That truly is the most important thing. So Harris…he brings these out here? Or you do?” she asks, just as she flips open the front cover where I’ve scrawled my signature and a “GO FUCK YOURSELF” to Harris on the title page.
“He does.”
“You haven’t told any of your other friends what you do?”
“Not really, no.”
“You might want to consider dropping the anonymity.” She turns to a back cover. “If you slapped your picture on here, you’d sell more. I’m utterly serious,” she adds when I start laughing.
I shake my head. “Thank you. But no.”
“Can I read one—” She breaks off when I groan. “If you prefer not, I’ll respect that. I know what it’s like not to want to expose a part of yourself.”
“I don’t hesitate for my sake. It’s just…we might be enemies again.”
Her brows arch. “Did we stop?”
“You like having an enemy.” How did I not realize that before?
She lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. “It’s fun. Especially now that I don’t despise you.”
“Not at the moment.” I hand her my first book.
She gives me a wondering look before sliding her palm over the front cover, where SHARP LITTLE TEETH is written in big chalked letters. Underneath is the tagline: This family is out for blood.
“I like the layout and the font. Very nice. And the chalkboard as the background—is it about a schoolteacher?” She flips the book around and begins reading aloud from the cover copy before I can answer. “‘There’s something odd about the Walter family. The doting mother. The angelic daughters. The persistent whispers about what happened to the father. But in the remote mountain town of Rocky Point, baseless rumors are always flying—and science teacher Neil Sharpe has more pressing concerns. Still mired in the grief of losing the woman he had hoped to spend his life with’”—she tosses me a laughing glance—“‘now there’s a dangerous new virus sweeping the town. Children are missing classes…or simply missing. Mutilated animals keep appearing on school grounds. The Walter family is the least of Neil’s problems…until one tiny bite changes everything.’”
I cringe all the way through. When she finishes, she continues staring at the back cover—then suddenly chortles.
“Hold up! What is this quote? ‘The horrors persist but so do I’ could be the slogan for Bryant’s grieving Neil Sharpe, who must fight his own demons while locked in a desperate battle against an ancient evil. A brilliant and pulse pounding debut from an exciting new author. What?! I mean, ‘brilliant and pulse pounding’ is great but— ‘The horrors persist’? Is that from the meme with a guinea pig in a pink car? Who is this guy that gave you this quote?”