Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
“Am I going to have to make rules in this office?”
I sit up straighter when I hear Ms. King’s voice and fight the urge to not hide under my desk.
“Stop bringing shit to the office!”
I have no clue what she’s talking about, and I’m not about to go ask. James steps out of the break area with my green Tupperware container. The lid is off, and the cookies inside are gone. Oh my god! Everyone ate them! I knew the decorated holiday cookies would be a hit. Who can turn down frosted snowmen? Not me. I guess the third time was a charm.
Ms. King comes out right behind James, and the click of her heels is loud on the tile. When she sees me, she narrows her eyes, and I hold my breath.
“Christmas is coming. Shit.” She rolls her eyes and turns, heading toward her office. I let out a breath and melt back into my chair.
My relief is short-lived because five minutes later, James is heading back out of Ms. King's office and straight toward me. He drops the empty container onto my desk, and I try not to be smug about it.
“She threw them in the trash,” he says, and I hear the pop of my happy bubble being burst. “And these”—he snatches the reindeer antlers off my head—“are your undoing.”
“What do you mean?” My antlers have flashing lights on them, but obviously I don’t have them going during office hours. I’m professional.
“You reminded her it’s the holidays and she needs to go shopping. She also has a party, and she needs a gift for it.”
How the heck did my antlers remind her it’s the holidays? Doesn’t she go outside? Maybe she sleeps under her desk in a coffin like a vampire.
“Oh, I can do that. Hit me with a list.” I hold my hand out, and James looks personally offended.
“Do you honestly think anyone would let you shop for them? Where did you get this stuff?” He picks up a tiny pink Christmas tree off my desk. “The dollar store?”
“The dollar store has fine decorations. But this one just happens to be from Five Below.”
“Right.” He shakes his head at me. “This is what you’re going to do.” James drops a thick novel on my desk, and I back away from it. The cover is ominous, and I know the type. It’s one of those horror books I avoid when I’m looking for a fluffy romance.
“Don’t say I have to read it.” This place is already giving me nightmares.
“Jesus, Belle, this isn’t a book club. Fucking hell with this one.” He mutters the last part under his breath. “I’m going to text you a number and address. You need to take this book and get it signed by the author.” He pushes it toward me.
“That’s it?” I can handle that. Plus, it will get me out of here for a little while.
“Oh no, it’s not that easy.” He pulls out a set of keys. “You have your driver’s license, right?” I open my mouth to say no, but he beats me. “It said you did on your résumé. I wouldn’t have hired you if you didn't.”
Crap, I did add that on there. I know how to drive-ish. I just never took the final test.
“Right.” I nod, because what can I say now? Sike!
“The place is a couple hours away.”
Turning the book around, I see the hardback is really nice. There is also a bunch of best-seller tags on it. The author's name even sounds familiar, but more in passing.
“So I can just show up at this man’s house and ask him to sign this?”
“Normally, no. Marley Jacobs lives a few hours outside of the city for a reason, but I guess someone owes Ms. King a favor. They talked to the author and know you’re coming.” He puts the keys to the car on top of the book. “I’d get going if I were you.” James nods out the window to the falling snow. I didn’t think it was supposed to get bad, but it’s really piling up. “Don’t fuck this up, Belle. You’re on thin ice.”
There is no way I can do this. I shouldn’t drive, especially not in a snowstorm.
“James, I—”
“Who broke the new espresso machine?!” I hear Ms. King shout. I jump up from my chair and grab all my crap, along with the book and keys.
“I’ll get this handled. No problem,” I tell James before getting my ass out of there. I don’t stop until I’m in the parking garage and my phone pings with a text from James.
He’s sent me the number and address, and I smile when I see where it is. Mr. Scary Book lives right near Cheerful, the most festive little Christmas town ever.
Chapter Two
MARLEY
“Absolutely not,” I say into the phone.