sunny
skies, golden sand, and sparkling aquamarine water beckoned. Organizers had
scheduled the daily workshops and panel discussions to close with plenty of
daylight left for sightseeing and other outdoor fun. Counting down the minutes until
playtime, she scanned the room, determined to find a spot as close to the view
as possible. Unlike other conferences, business or business casual dress did
not rule here. The men had donned their Hawaiian shirts with bold floral
prints. Kendra, along with most of the women, wore a sundress bright with
tropical flowers. Colorful hibiscus or plumeria blooms replaced the usual
jewelry and hair accessories. This
day she wore a chili red streak in her hair to match the flower tucked behind
one ear. Flip-flops, sandals, and espadrilles outnumbered sensible pumps and
loafers as the footwear of choice.
Four agents and two editors sat at a table to her
left. Kendra had pitched and sold several manuscripts to Beth Hartman, an
editor at Glenallen & Fowler. The other, Zoe Fitzsimmons, of Broadnax-Royal, she knew only by sight
and reputation. She hoped to change that during the conference and invite her
to lunch. She had two manuscripts that would be perfect for Zoe’s list. After
the group invited Kendra to join them, she sat, and made herself comfortable
with her official conference tote at her feet. A server came over and filled a cup with
steaming coffee before taking her order for a hearty breakfast of scrambled
eggs, cinnamon toast, and a double serving of bacon. And how could she pass up
such local specialties as apple banana and strawberry papaya? Could anyone love
their job as much as she loved hers at that moment? Heaven!
“So,
what about the latest on Penelope Wirthington?” asked Piper Hodges, the agent
sitting three seats to Kendra’s right.
Wrong table . Kendra frowned.
“As in is she worth that obscene advance revealed in Publishing
Grapevine ?” asked agent Sheila Crowder, who had made a name for herself by
signing the author who penned the Droidz
in the Hood series that fueled the popping street-lit-sci-fi-mash-up trend.
Kendra believed shop talk was a valuable part of
the conference experience. But first
thing in the flipping morning, y’all? Before she’d finished her coffee or filled her growling belly? Focusing
would prove difficult, but she’d try to keep up and not get lost in the
beachfront view or the piles of food on the plate the server had placed before
her. Yes! She rotated her plate left, said a quick
grace in her head, and dug in as the discussion about Penelope, who was one of
Dominic’s clients, bubbled up around her.
Penelope’s debut, The Splendid Transgressions of Alton
Whitesborough , sold in a strategic one-book deal, had been a runaway hit
five years ago. It had also finaled
for an American Book Medallion and Rowan-Reece Prize for fiction, two of the
highest honors for a novel. A pair of Academy Award winners would star in the
upcoming film adaptation. Penelope’s untitled, but eagerly anticipated
sophomore manuscript had spurred an enthusiastic bidding war.
“He’s an arrogant, money-grubbing snake,” Piper
squawked about Dominic instead of the publishing house that had dropped the
loot.
A few others chimed in.
An old proverb rushed to Kendra’s mind: The enemy
of my enemy is my friend. Dominic wasn’t her enemy. He could be as annoying as
hell when he talked business, but she did not dislike him. In fact, she liked
him. Too much. Hot rival was a more fitting way to categorize him. But she
couldn’t help wanting Mr. Braggy Pants— with the implausibly high
retention rate—to experience what it felt like to lose a valued
client. Correction. Not just lose,
but lose one to Kendra Porter. Lose
someone like Brody Goodwin to Kendra Porter. She could just see the notice in Publishing Grapevine . Ha! Nevertheless, it was unwise to get
drawn into Piper’s discussion. Ripping Dominic a new one in front of a bunch
skies, golden sand, and sparkling aquamarine water beckoned. Organizers had
scheduled the daily workshops and panel discussions to close with plenty of
daylight left for sightseeing and other outdoor fun. Counting down the minutes until
playtime, she scanned the room, determined to find a spot as close to the view
as possible. Unlike other conferences, business or business casual dress did
not rule here. The men had donned their Hawaiian shirts with bold floral
prints. Kendra, along with most of the women, wore a sundress bright with
tropical flowers. Colorful hibiscus or plumeria blooms replaced the usual
jewelry and hair accessories. This
day she wore a chili red streak in her hair to match the flower tucked behind
one ear. Flip-flops, sandals, and espadrilles outnumbered sensible pumps and
loafers as the footwear of choice.
Four agents and two editors sat at a table to her
left. Kendra had pitched and sold several manuscripts to Beth Hartman, an
editor at Glenallen & Fowler. The other, Zoe Fitzsimmons, of Broadnax-Royal, she knew only by sight
and reputation. She hoped to change that during the conference and invite her
to lunch. She had two manuscripts that would be perfect for Zoe’s list. After
the group invited Kendra to join them, she sat, and made herself comfortable
with her official conference tote at her feet. A server came over and filled a cup with
steaming coffee before taking her order for a hearty breakfast of scrambled
eggs, cinnamon toast, and a double serving of bacon. And how could she pass up
such local specialties as apple banana and strawberry papaya? Could anyone love
their job as much as she loved hers at that moment? Heaven!
“So,
what about the latest on Penelope Wirthington?” asked Piper Hodges, the agent
sitting three seats to Kendra’s right.
Wrong table . Kendra frowned.
“As in is she worth that obscene advance revealed in Publishing
Grapevine ?” asked agent Sheila Crowder, who had made a name for herself by
signing the author who penned the Droidz
in the Hood series that fueled the popping street-lit-sci-fi-mash-up trend.
Kendra believed shop talk was a valuable part of
the conference experience. But first
thing in the flipping morning, y’all? Before she’d finished her coffee or filled her growling belly? Focusing
would prove difficult, but she’d try to keep up and not get lost in the
beachfront view or the piles of food on the plate the server had placed before
her. Yes! She rotated her plate left, said a quick
grace in her head, and dug in as the discussion about Penelope, who was one of
Dominic’s clients, bubbled up around her.
Penelope’s debut, The Splendid Transgressions of Alton
Whitesborough , sold in a strategic one-book deal, had been a runaway hit
five years ago. It had also finaled
for an American Book Medallion and Rowan-Reece Prize for fiction, two of the
highest honors for a novel. A pair of Academy Award winners would star in the
upcoming film adaptation. Penelope’s untitled, but eagerly anticipated
sophomore manuscript had spurred an enthusiastic bidding war.
“He’s an arrogant, money-grubbing snake,” Piper
squawked about Dominic instead of the publishing house that had dropped the
loot.
A few others chimed in.
An old proverb rushed to Kendra’s mind: The enemy
of my enemy is my friend. Dominic wasn’t her enemy. He could be as annoying as
hell when he talked business, but she did not dislike him. In fact, she liked
him. Too much. Hot rival was a more fitting way to categorize him. But she
couldn’t help wanting Mr. Braggy Pants— with the implausibly high
retention rate—to experience what it felt like to lose a valued
client. Correction. Not just lose,
but lose one to Kendra Porter. Lose
someone like Brody Goodwin to Kendra Porter. She could just see the notice in Publishing Grapevine . Ha! Nevertheless, it was unwise to get
drawn into Piper’s discussion. Ripping Dominic a new one in front of a bunch
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