Page 37 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
Wait. He had said something. What had he said? Oh, right. The Whatever Rom-Com. “Why would you say that?”
“Because.” Jonah filled the kettle with water and set it back on the stove before leaning his hip against the counter facing Bronte. “You seem lighter when you’re working on that one.”
Bronte frowned, concentrating on Jonah’s Santa socks—a different pair than he’d worn earlier that week. These featured floating Santa and Rudolph heads. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I don’t necessarily think it’s either one.” Jonah filled the mugs, his with coffee, hers with hot water. “I can only image the Pikes are a hard family to write about. Those books are heavier. But I do like to see you having so much fun with this one.”
Fun. There was that word again. It seemed she was having fun both in her life and in her writing. If only it were on the book she’d come here to write.
The book she’d come here to write.
Right.
Glancing at the clock, she realized she had been working on the Whatever Rom-Com for over an hour—which was over the ten minutes she’d told herself she was going to work on it. You know, just to get the creative juices flowing. Minimizing the romantic comedy, she opened the Pike family document, stomach curling at the word count at the bottom of the screen, mocking her.
Jonah put Bronte’s now-full teacup next to her. He put an arm around the back of her chair and leaned in close, his scent of sandalwood and citrus clouding all her senses. She’d almost slid her eyes closed just to get lost in his scent when she realized what he was doing.
She snapped her laptop closed. “Nope. No peeking.”
Jonah stood up, taking his scent with him. “So close.”
“Go back over there and finish reading your book. You still have one more to go before you’re all caught up.”
“Fine.” Jonah trudged back over to the couch with his cup of coffee and picked up his Kindle. “It’s not my fault you write such long books.”
“You love it.”
“Yep. I do.” Jonah settled back in, and Bronte shifted her attention back to her manuscript. She told herself she would work on the Pike story for an hour and then let herself take a short break with the rom-com. If she did that, she’d make progress on both manuscripts and be able to wrap everything up before it was time to head to town with Jonah for the Christmas stroll.
An hour later, a ping from her notifications announced an incoming text. Bronte had thought she’d silenced all notifications. Too late for that now. She minimized her document and opened her messaging app.
Margot
How’s the writing coming?
Margot. Lexi’s mother and the head of Write Stuff Literary Agency.
Bronte cringed. A follow-up from Margot couldn’t be a good thing. Bronte looked down at the word count. Still not where it needed to be for this late in the game. Even if Lexi had told Bronte she worked best under pressure, Bronte could feel herself testing her limits.
Bronte
Good!
Not an all-out lie. The writing was going fine. Better on the project she had promised Lexi she wouldn’t be working on, but still, progress was being made.
Margot
I’ll have the Pike manuscript on my desk in two weeks?
Bronte bit her lip, her gaze wandering to Jonah—or what little she could see of him stretched out on the couch. He held his Kindle above him, completely lost in the story he was reading. Jonah had been right when he’d said Bronte seemed lighter when she was working on the rom-com. Shefeltlighter. What if there was a way to work some of that magic into the last Pike family book?
If Margot knew how good she felt about this story, she would agree with her. Holding her breath, she hurriedly typed out a response to gauge Margot’s thoughts.
Bronte
Yes, you’ll have it in two weeks. I’m thinking about maybe adding a little more romance and comedy into this last book.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared.
