Page 112 of Will Bark for Pizza
“Oh! Your mom would be so proud.”
“It’s so damn pretty I can hardly stand it.”
Lila and I looked at one another and laughed. A couple of those tears I’d tried to keep at bay finally escaped, but they were happy tears. God, I wished Mom were here to see this.
“How did you do this?”
“WellIdidn’t do this. I worked with Tatiana on the design. And she recommended a printer who specializes in special editions. So, I had one made.” Lila bit down on her bottom lip again. “If you like them, I can put in a larger order.”
“Them?”
“I thought it was only fair to do the whole series,” she said, pulling three additional books from her oversized tote bag and passing them around. “And when you finish Mateo’s book, we can have a special edition cover made for that book, too.”
My stomach dropped to the floor, reminding me I had a really terrible conversation ahead. But if anyone deserved to know the truth about the end of my writing career, it was Lila Quinn, the woman who stuck by me through my lowest lows.
“How long are you in town?”
“As long as you need me. Believe it or not, I actually have a little marketing experience specific to independent bookstores.”
“We’re keeping her,” Dylann announced.
“You do?” I asked, surprised. Did she tell me before and I wasn’t listening?
“Back in my college days,” she said, waving it off like it was nobig deal.
“She also mentioned she’s really good at coordinating events,” Grandma Connie said. “Like,authorevents.”
Thankfully, my brothers chose that moment to storm into the room with another load of boxes. The book club chatter turned from oohing and ahhing over special editions, to muttered curses about Margene once again. We’d been inventorying the books on the shelves all morning and hardly made a dent. They were, of course, completely disorganized. The groans at the sight of additional books were justified.
“Where do you want these?” Connor asked after Luke set down a stack toward the back.
“Wherever you can find room.”
Beckett came next, carrying three boxes that strained his glorious muscles. His biceps stretched his shirt sleeves and made his tattoos pop. Tattoos I still very much wanted to memorize better. The only one I got a really good look at the night he held me in my bed was the one on his forearm that looked like a unit crest. The rest were blurry in my memory.
“Sweetie, you’re staring,” Lila whispered against my ear.
I spun around, facing the table. I busied myself examining the four different special edition books. They each had their own unique objects, but the design and coloring were similar.
They were gorgeous.
They were also an incomplete set.
Beckett’s earlier words echoed.I saw you taking notes.
Maybe I could try—just try—to write Mateo’s book. There was a time when it was the book I was most excitedto write of the entire series. It felt wrong to leave one of my favorite characters without a happily ever after . . . even if I planned to make him work really hard for it. Maybe the conversation with Lila could wait until I knew for sure.
“Lila, dear,” Lotti asked, her tone sounding innocent as ever, despite it raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “How long would it take you to get a large order of these beautiful books printed?”
“How large of an order are we talking?”
“How many people do you think would show up for Diana Davenport’s first in-person signing?”
I froze, the book I held nearly slipping from my hands. I just found out yesterday that my secret author identity had never really been secret. At least, not with the book club. But that didn’t mean I was ready to go public. Or do an in-person event where readers would ask me by the dozens when the next book was coming.
“You look a little green, dear,” Dylann said.
“I can’t?—”
