Page 4 of Chance of Romance
Chapter Two
The next morning, Sabrina returned to work and scheduled the talk show for Monday morning. Her voice shook, but she did it. Then she left a message for her friend Claire to call her for a coaching session on how to do a TV interview. She couldsodo this.
She rescheduled her Monday morning appointments and reviewed her calendar. She’d booked a week off at the end of the month and was now extra glad she had. Her January break was very necessary after the rush of holiday appointments. Tensions ran high over the holidays, and she saw her clients in full rotation between Christmas and New Year, when more people were home and fighting. She planned to do nothing but putter around her apartment, trying out new recipes and binge-watching her favorite TV shows. Heaven!
She made it through her morning appointments relatively put together, considering she was three days away from a huge TV interview and she still hadn’t heard back from Claire. Of course, Claire was on California time, so she shouldn’t get too worked up yet. Her phone rang. Claire! She grabbed her phone off her desk and then realized it was her office phone. “Hello, Sabrina Clarke speaking.”
“This is Tara Brinkman. Are you the author of ‘Goodbye Commitment-Phobe’?”
“Yes, I am. How can I help you today?”
The woman spoke with sharp bite. “You can help me by taking down your article immediately. My book, aNew York Timesbestseller, was also titledGoodbye Commitment-Phobewell before yours. I’m the one known as the Commitment Counselor—that’s a registered trademark, by the way—and I’d better not hear you’re using the same moniker.”
She shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “I’m not using that. I’ve never heard of you.”
“I can’t believe this was coincidental. You’re trying to represent yourself as me, riding on the coattails of my stellar reputation.”
Sabrina shoved a hand in her hair, flummoxed by the woman’s hostility. “I had no idea you wrote something with a similar name.”
“Not similar, the exact same. It’s called copyright infringement. Take it down, or I will send my lawyer after you.”
She broke out in a cold sweat. Holy crap! “I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. There’s no need for lawyers.”
“Right. I looked you up. You’re in my area. I have an office in Manhattan and Fieldridge, Connecticut. You’re trying to poach my clients.”
She shook her head in vehement denial. “I swear this is the first I’ve heard of you. When did your book come out?”
“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you,” Tara said ominously before hanging up.
Sabrina sat there for a minute in shock. Then she opened her laptop and looked up Tara Brinkman. It was legit. All of it—her practice, her book, her local office only a couple of towns away. Shit. Her book had come out five years ago when Sabrina was still in college.Goodbye Commitment-Phobewouldn’t have been a book she sought out. At the time she’d been in a happily committed relationship.
She closed the laptop with trembling hands. This woman could do serious damage to Sabrina’s reputation. Sabrina didn’t have a lawyer either. She had no idea what to do. She wasn’t even sure if it was possible to take the article down now that it had been shared all over the internet.
Her office phone rang again, and she jumped, heart pounding, staring at it like it was a cobra about to strike.Calm down. It’s probably a client.She grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Sabrina Clarke?” an authoritative woman’s voice asked, scaring the crap out of her. Maybe it was a lawyer about to slap her with a lawsuit.
She hesitated before finally saying, “Yes, how can I help you?”
“This is Joyce Earley. I’m a literary agent, and I’d like to talk about you writing a book. I absolutely loved ‘Goodbye Commitment-Phobe, Hello Happiness!’”
She was so relieved it wasn’t a lawyer, she immediately confided in this complete stranger. “I was thinking of taking the article down. I just got a call from the author of a bestselling book with the same title. There might be an issue with copyright infringement.”
“Can’t copyright a title. Anyway, this thing’s got legs. Picture this, white cover with a bold red heart and the title in pink ‘Romance Rebel.’ Something that—”
“I’m not a rebel,” she said firmly, surprising herself with her clear thoughts given she was so shaken up by her morning. But she’d always been clear on her boundaries. She didn’t want the rebel label. She’d worked hard to be much more traditional than that, her own twisted rebellion against her crazy family. Sometimes she feared her wayward genes would keep her single forever. No wonder her friends had suggested she get a fake fiancé. They probably saw right through her to her family’s uncommitted roots.
Joyce went on in a cheery tone. “Doesn’t have to be that title. How about ‘A Guide to Lasting Love’? Nah, something catchier. We’ll work on that. You really touched a nerve with your article, and I think you could help millions of women around the world.”
Sabrina rested her head in her hand and stared blankly at her desk, trying to think it through. “I would like to reach more women.” So far she’d been focused mostly on couples, but she could branch out to individual therapy that helped single women work toward a fulfilling relationship by working on themselves. It would be similar to the sologamy concept—marrying yourself as a commitment to self. At least she’d done that much commitment in her life; doing a sologamy ceremony with her friends as witnesses had been awesome.
“Excellent!” Joyce exclaimed. “But we’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot! Why don’t you work up a bare-bones outline, we’ll tack your article on the front, and I’ll shop it. I’m sure we’ll go to auction for the big bucks. Of course, we’ll do a book tour, interviews, TV spots, the works. Actually, I can get you on some news shows now, which’ll only make your book that much more appealing to publishers.”
Fraud, fraud, fraud.
She broke out in a hot sweat this time, a little light-headed.Do not pass out.“Hold on.” She pulled her cardigan off and rapidly fanned her blouse against her body.
She could hear Joyce calling her, saying loudly, “Are you still there?”
