caressed her ear, sending shivers down her neck and back. “So how about it?”
“How about what?”
“Will you be mine?”
“Excuse me?”
“My PR person,” he said. “Publicist. Cheerleader. Marketing guru.”
“Oh.” Was that a hint of disappointment she felt? She ruthlessly quashed it and shifted in her seat, putting some much-needed space between them. “I sent you a proposal outlining what I could do for you. For your book, I mean. Did you read it?”
He seemed amused by her prim tone. “Yes. What do we need to get started?”
“May I?” She slid the food and drinks out of the way, making room for her laptop. It took a few minutes to open the right files. “You don’t have an online presence as an author yet, so we’re working from scratch. We’ll need to build you a website, put up a blog. Open some social networking accounts. Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, Google+. Start generating some buzz.”
“How do know I don’t have accounts already?”
“I checked. It’s called research.” At his raised brow, she blushed. Okay, so she’d looked him up shortly after their supermarket encounter. He wasn’t the only one who suffered occasional insomnia. And last she’d checked, there was no law against Googling. “You have a Facebook account as George M. Palmer, though you don’t seem to post much. Is it safe to assume you’ll want to keep that separate from anything you use for marketing?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, now’s the time to think. If you’re going to use your own name instead of a pseudonym, Max Palmer sounds much more approachable. And with all the privacy issues Facebook is having, it makes sense to have a different account for your public persona.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. Now, about the book itself. Will you have hard copies as well as the digital version?”
“I wasn’t planning on it. Why?”
“It would help to have something to offer for contests and giveaways on Goodreads and reviewer blogs. People love to get free stuff. Plus it’s something you can autograph and sell when you do public appearances. There aren’t many brick-and-mortar bookstores left, but we can tap into some local libraries and other businesses that might be willing to host a reading. I’m sure there are plenty of book clubs or groups like the Optimist club that would be interested in having you do a talk.”
“All that?”
“Well, yes. You do want this book to sell, don’t you?”
Instead of answering, he studied the questionnaire she’d pulled up on her screen. “Have you done this before?”
“I’ve done marketing for all sorts of businesses. I sent you a link to my online portfolio.”
“Yes, I know. But for writers specifically?”
“The principles are the same. And you’re not the only one who’s been reading industry blogs.” To be honest, she hadn’t exactly had time to read them—after all, it was just yesterday morning that Max had proposed hiring her. But she’d bookmarked a number of sites to check out over the coming days. She was thorough, and she knew she could do a good job.
He raised a placating hand. “I wasn’t questioning your credentials. Just curious.”
“Fine. You’re my first. But I promise, you won’t regret hiring me. Whatever it takes to make your book a success, I’ll do it. You just have to keep writing.”
“I’m trying.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page?”
He studied her for several moments before answering. “I’m going back to work, you know. As soon as my leg is a bit stronger. This—” he nodded toward the computer, “will have to take a back seat.”
“And…?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were aware.”
“But you’re not going to just give up writing, are you?”
He picked up his drink and took a long swig. “I don’t know. As long as doesn’t get old, I guess not.”
There was a warning for her there, she was sure. A reminder of who Max Palmer
“How about what?”
“Will you be mine?”
“Excuse me?”
“My PR person,” he said. “Publicist. Cheerleader. Marketing guru.”
“Oh.” Was that a hint of disappointment she felt? She ruthlessly quashed it and shifted in her seat, putting some much-needed space between them. “I sent you a proposal outlining what I could do for you. For your book, I mean. Did you read it?”
He seemed amused by her prim tone. “Yes. What do we need to get started?”
“May I?” She slid the food and drinks out of the way, making room for her laptop. It took a few minutes to open the right files. “You don’t have an online presence as an author yet, so we’re working from scratch. We’ll need to build you a website, put up a blog. Open some social networking accounts. Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, Google+. Start generating some buzz.”
“How do know I don’t have accounts already?”
“I checked. It’s called research.” At his raised brow, she blushed. Okay, so she’d looked him up shortly after their supermarket encounter. He wasn’t the only one who suffered occasional insomnia. And last she’d checked, there was no law against Googling. “You have a Facebook account as George M. Palmer, though you don’t seem to post much. Is it safe to assume you’ll want to keep that separate from anything you use for marketing?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, now’s the time to think. If you’re going to use your own name instead of a pseudonym, Max Palmer sounds much more approachable. And with all the privacy issues Facebook is having, it makes sense to have a different account for your public persona.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. Now, about the book itself. Will you have hard copies as well as the digital version?”
“I wasn’t planning on it. Why?”
“It would help to have something to offer for contests and giveaways on Goodreads and reviewer blogs. People love to get free stuff. Plus it’s something you can autograph and sell when you do public appearances. There aren’t many brick-and-mortar bookstores left, but we can tap into some local libraries and other businesses that might be willing to host a reading. I’m sure there are plenty of book clubs or groups like the Optimist club that would be interested in having you do a talk.”
“All that?”
“Well, yes. You do want this book to sell, don’t you?”
Instead of answering, he studied the questionnaire she’d pulled up on her screen. “Have you done this before?”
“I’ve done marketing for all sorts of businesses. I sent you a link to my online portfolio.”
“Yes, I know. But for writers specifically?”
“The principles are the same. And you’re not the only one who’s been reading industry blogs.” To be honest, she hadn’t exactly had time to read them—after all, it was just yesterday morning that Max had proposed hiring her. But she’d bookmarked a number of sites to check out over the coming days. She was thorough, and she knew she could do a good job.
He raised a placating hand. “I wasn’t questioning your credentials. Just curious.”
“Fine. You’re my first. But I promise, you won’t regret hiring me. Whatever it takes to make your book a success, I’ll do it. You just have to keep writing.”
“I’m trying.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page?”
He studied her for several moments before answering. “I’m going back to work, you know. As soon as my leg is a bit stronger. This—” he nodded toward the computer, “will have to take a back seat.”
“And…?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were aware.”
“But you’re not going to just give up writing, are you?”
He picked up his drink and took a long swig. “I don’t know. As long as doesn’t get old, I guess not.”
There was a warning for her there, she was sure. A reminder of who Max Palmer
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