Page 23 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell

“No, my friend, I am not. Random House wants you.”

“Seriously? Have you seen the contract?” Eric asked.

“Yes, and if you agree, they want to fly you out for their special New Year’s Eve party. You’ll get to meet the editor you’ll be working with, the marketing team. It will be great.”

Eric was still having a hard time believing this. “Is it a good deal?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t a fantastic offer. I’ll email over the deets with my suggested changes, and you can let me know what you think.”

“Great. Thanks, Neal. I owe you.”

“Nope, just doing my job! We’ll talk soon.”

Eric slipped the phone back into his pocket and the energy built up from his feet, making his legs and arms shake.

“Yes! Fuck, yeah! Whoo!”

He was still doing a victory dance when his little brother, Grant, pulled open the storeroom door.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

Eric was too happy to hide it and picked his brother up in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m celebrating, little brother. I got a feeling today is going to be fucking amazing.”

* * *

Later that night, Gracie sat across from Trent Ford, one of her ex-boyfriends, and after twenty minutes, she’d remembered why she’d broken up with Trent.

He was a narcissistic asshat.

Gracie had hired Gemma’s babysitter, Jenny Andrews, Mrs. Andrews’s youngest daughter, to come over and sit with Jocelyn. She’d had Jenny get there before she put her down, so if she did wake up, the little girl wouldn’t be scared.

Gracie still had a hard time thinking of Pip as Jocelyn, but she’d have to get used to it. Maybe she’d call her Josie.

If I have her that long.

And she’d done all that so she could meet Trent at Jensen’s Diner for a coffee and a slice of pie.

It definitely wasn’t worth the ten bucks an hour she was paying Jenny.

“And that’s how I turned a profit on a piece-of-crap Chevy nobody wanted,” Trent said, finishing whatever money-making story he’d been droning on about.

Gracie smiled politely, studying Trent’s short blond hair and sea-foam-green eyes. She didn’t remember his eyes being that color. Was he wearing colored contacts?

Ugh, no. Nope, she was done. Why had she thought recycling her old boyfriends would be a good idea?

Grabbing her purse on the bench next to her, she rummaged for her wallet. “Well, Trent, it’s been fun catching up, but it’s getting late.”

He screwed up his face in confusion and tilted his head like a damn Chihuahua. “Getting late? We’ve hardly sat down. Besides, I thought we’d head over to Buck’s, get a little dirty dancing going on. I remember how good you used to move.”

Double yuck with a scoop of slimeball on top.

“I just think it’s better if we call it a night,” she said, pulling some bills out to set on the table.

Trent reached across the surface and circled her wrist, startling her. “Better for who? Not for me. I turned down going out with my boys ’cause I thought this was a sure thing.”

Gracie’s gaze narrowed. “A sure thing?”

“You want to play innocent, fine, but it ain’t like you don’t flit about this town like a butterfly looking for pollen.”

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