Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I move the curtain away from the large window in the front room and look down the gravel driveway, seeing nothing. The grass is tall and needs to be mowed. I sigh and again the throw slips, but it’s warmer inside the main part of the house, so I let it drape over the crook in my arm.
My bed is made, and I can’t wait to sink into it and drift to sleep, but I need to check over my email and messages one last time before I can pass out. The one good thing about my job is that I can do it from anywhere. When I first moved here, I had to stop working on anything associated with my real name. My blog, my columns and articles, anything else tied to my online presence, you name it —done. I was crushed. I had been a renowned book reviewer, beta reader, and part-time writer. The money was great, but I would have loved it all regardless of the pay.
I had to say goodbye to my former life though because the Cassano familia could have found me that way. The mafia that saw me as a rat could have easily tracked me down if I'd continued working under my real name, and it wasn't worth it.
So, I started over under a pen name, and it’s going better than I ever imagined it could. The experience and knowledge that I gained in my former life helped me tremendously. Now I'm firmly established in the industry, and I'm doing even better than I was before.
This is my life now--books and tea in a remote cabin in the woods. I love it, but lately it’s felt empty. I could go on like this, feeling as though I’m living a full life, but I’m so alone. I wanted nothing more than to be by myself when I was running and hiding. But now I find myself questioning if I’ll ever have anyone real in my life, and anything substantial.
I’ve thought about getting a dog—a big one, to help make me feel secure. A dog's love is unconditional. I want that love desperately. I need it from someone, or something. But a dog would need walks and interaction, plus dogs have to be taken to the vet. Those are all opportunities for people to see me. I don't want that. I want to stay hidden. I need to stay hidden. But I do need companionship. I've been craving it more and more as I've settled into this new life.
At least I have my business. I have my blogging, my books, and my friends, even if they're all online. I almost didn’t start over. I almost gave up and poured my heart into a book of my own. But my life is no romance. And writing it down would make it real. Once I’d gotten over the fear, I didn’t want to relive it. So I did my best to move on.
I was hesitant to start from scratch, but I pushed myself to do it anyway. Within two months my new blog had taken off, and I’d revitalized my income. I log on and see twelve new messages in my email. The first few are easy enough to reply to, requiring nothing more than copying and pasting from a template of other answers I've already given. The next email takes some time to write out though. I'm responding to a new author who messaged me looking for advice on her series. I'll have to get back to her in the morning. I don't have the energy right now. But I take this business seriously, and it shows. And it pays. Just before I close the laptop, I hear a ping.
It’s a message from a new book friend. She joined my book club a few weeks ago. Right now, it’s just a small Facebook group, but it’s my baby. Although she’s not very active in the group, she’s messaged me a number of times. I get so many messages a day. Some are from other bloggers and columnists who are just starting out and looking for advice. Others are from authors wanting to send me advanced reading copies and beta reads. I can read two books a day, so I’m always happy to help where I can. But Val’s messages are different. They’re more personal.
What did you think of the book?
I scan the message twice as my fingers hover above the keys. I read and receive so many books that most of the time I have to sift through my emails before replying in order to make sure I'm keeping everything straight, but not this time. I know exactly which book Val's referring to.
Smut, also known as erotic romance to some, is a genre with which I'm intimately familiar. I prefer the term smut though, because it fills me with life. Like I'm naughty for reading it. The book she picked out though is exceptionally taboo. Arousal heats my core. The idea of being taken by a strange man has certainly been a dark desire of my own. I clench my thighs and bite down on my lip. I won’t admit how I touched myself to some scenes.