Page 67 of Joy to Noel
I’m probably putting too much stock in Elizabeth’s opinion, but something about this email feels like it could either be the true beginning or the beginning of the end for Madison Joy Editorial’s future. I can’t put off the inevitable, so I click on the email.
Madison,
Wow, this is by far the most thorough editing job I’ve seen. The fact that you went to the effort to research standard terminology in medical journals AND approved collegiate Greek life lingo blew my mind. Thank you for correcting those mistakes before this book went out into the world! I would have been so embarrassed if a reader pointed them out after the fact.
With this being my first crossover to nonfiction, my mind was still used to some of the stylistic freedom of the fiction genre. Thank you for explaining the editing guidelines behind those corrections you made—it will certainly help me avoid repeating those mistakes in the future.
I will absolutely be enlisting your services again with any future books. I’ll also pass along your information with a resounding recommendation to all of my author friends.
Thanks again,
Elizabeth
“Yes!” I yell, slamming my hands on the desk.
Hamlet screeches and bolts out from his place under my Christmas tree. However, his paws get caught on the tree skirt in his haste, and he trips, which scares him even further, if his possessed race around the room is any indication. He pounces on my bed but spooks when a throw pillow moves, so he leaps onto the dresser. Liam must include dressers in the “no counters or tables” rule, because Hamlet abruptly leaps back off the dresser, looking guilty and frightened.
Finally, he finds the door to escape from my room, and I chase after him as he scampers across the house to Liam’s room. “Hammie, I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean it,” I say as I approach him. He’s hidingunder the bed and hisses when I come close. “I was just excited. I shouldn’t have made that loud noise. I’m sorry,” I say, trying to coax him to come out.
He mewls pitifully from the darkness.
When my repeated apologies do nothing to lure Hamlet out from under the bed, I trot back to my room to retrieve my phone. As I reenter Liam’s room, Hamlet is still whining. I hit the call icon next to Liam’s contact and plop down on the floor.
My call is interrupted by an auto-text message coming through.
HOT BRITISH BOYFRIEND
I’ll call you right back.
Liam massively rolled his eyes when he discovered his new contact name. “I’m notonlyBritish. I’m also Korean and American,” he’d pointed out.
But “Hot British-Korean-American Boyfriend” would be an absurdly long contact name. Besides, I think of him calling me “love” in that sexy British accent every time I see his name pop up on my phone. So “Hot British Boyfriend” stays.
I flip to my stomach on the floor, continuing my efforts to reconcile with Hamlet. “Come on, Hammie. Don’t hold it against me. I won’t do it again. I swear,” I say. I try to reach a hand under the bed, but I’m met with a swift swat to the fingers.
“Hamlet. Don’t make me take back all the nice things I’ve said about you recently,” I chide. My phone starts ringing, so I roll to my back and answer it.
“You okay? What’s wrong?” Liam immediately asks.
“Oh. Yes. I’m fine!” I reply.
“Then what’s up? You’ve never called me at work before,” Liam observes.
“Sorry, did I interrupt something important? Hang up on me if you need to,” I say, although I might be the teensiest bit mad if he really does hang up.
“No, I have a minute. I just had to leave the production floor to call you from my office. It’s too loud in there to have a phone conversation,” Liam says.
“I’ll try to make this quick. I accidentally startled Hamlet, and now he’s sulking under your bed. I thought maybe you’d be able to coax him out of his cocoon of resentment,” I explain.
Liam chuckles. “I mean, I can try. I can hear him yowling in the background, though. Sounds like a serious offense. I may not be able to mend this bridge for you.”
“Well, I’m going to put you on speaker so you can give it a shot,” I say. I hold the phone closer to the bed. “Come on, Hammie. Your super-hot daddy is on the phone.”
A snort comes through the phone. “I’m just not even going to address . . . any of that,” he says, and I grin. He clears his throat and says, “Hamlet, why are you hiding, my friend? I know Madison can be scary sometimes.”
“Hey!” I cut in, fake annoyed.
I hear the grin in Liam’s voice as he continues, “But she’smostlyharmless. Come back out and keep her company so she doesn’t go off the rails.”
