Page 113 of Smoke and Fire
Priyanka Patel:Can we finally talk about the next launch date?
Priyanka Patel:Dahlia has been emailing me and I like her better than I like you.
Priyanka Patel:Can you have Dahlia call me?
My lips twitched. Everyone liked Dahlia better than they liked me. Who could blame them?
After the documentary aired, Priyanka had been oddly silent for days. When I finally got her back on the phone, she'd said something I never expected.
"You're right. We shouldn’t reveal Jess."
For two hours, we unraveled my final decision. Yes, I could reveal myself as Jess. Now that I’d seen fandom at it’s proudest moment, I was willing.
But in the end, it wasn't the right move.
Like Katrina said, these women really didn't want to solve the mystery. The mystery was half the fun. Jess needed to remain as just Jess.
Instead, I posted a thank you letter to Katrina, shared the documentary on social media, and made more time and space for interacting with my readers than I had before. Rumors circulated, but they always would. Some fans had even come to the Frolicking Moose and asked questions, but nothing dangerous.
Now that I lived my own romance, maybe I'd keep the books coming. My plans to not return to wildland fire meant I’d have the time to write, for sure.
The world was atourfeet.
While Dahlia and Inessa made themselves comfortable on Inessa's bed so Dahlia could read her more from Rodrigo and Amalia, I sank lower in the chair. Had life ever been happier than this?
No.
Dahlia had finally helped me see that things were better when I didn’t bear it all myself. Thankfully, she had a soft spot for idiots that took too long to learn the right lesson and lips that tasted like fire.
I turned back to my computer, dismissed my emails, and pulled up a blank white page. Jagged words started to churn in my head again, ready to smooth out on the paper.
Months and months lay between me and my last writing session, but I’d bridge those easily enough now that I felt the power building in my mind again.
My fingers started to type.
Ah, oblivion.
1
DAHLIA
The growing plume of smoke on the horizon didnotgive me warm fuzzies.
A wildfire in the mountains north of Pineville was not how I wanted to start the week. Nor did it lend hope for a low-key day. That’s all I wanted—something quiet, calm, and filled with time to research my new life. I’d make cappuccinos, enjoy the quiet purr of life in Pineville. Maybe sit in the sunshine outside my RV at the end of the day and pretend like I played in the ocean.
Simple arithmetic.
Or was it?
To that end, the romance book splayed open on the counter behind me also did not give me warm fuzzies. No, far worse. It gave me butterflies, hope, thrills, and a dramatic sense ofoh my gosh will they ever?
“Fantastic,” I muttered darkly.
The last thing I needed was a romance novel that Iliked. They only made my wary attitude toward relationships worse. To make matters even worse, the water heater in my RV failed this morning. My sleep-deprived state didn’t help either. Yet again, I’d stayed upwaytoo late reading.
I blamed Lizbeth.
Dahlia Finau didnotdo mornings. This girl was a sleeper.
