By a stupid accident, I attached the wrong document to my email to the publishing house. Instead of the promised fantasy novel, “that very one” file went through—fanfiction about my hopeless, shameful, all-consuming infatuation… with my new editor.
Life has already managed to wear me down: a painful breakup, a sharp career turn, and then a move from provincial quiet into the very heart of New York. On top of that, I had my personal “gift”—a syndrome that causes me to faint periodically, and next to me there always has to be Benji, my charming four-legged rescuer.
But none of this prepared me for him.
Chase Dawson is my editor. Icy blue eyes, a figure that knocks the breath out of you, impeccable dark hair. Add wit and a brilliant mind—and you get the perfect book boyfriend. And yes, I know exactly what I’m talking about, because right now I’ve just detailed every one of his traits in hot, vivid detail in a manuscript nobody was supposed to—and certainly not him. And I went and sent it to Chase by mail.
And that’s not even the worst part: my amazing editor has no idea that he himself convinced the leadership to give the green light to a book in which—he is the main character. It’s a novel about him.
About us.
And ahead of me are two months in the same office: edits, rewrites, and line-by-line breakdown of every exciting paragraph. A paragraph from a novel that tells far too openly about the two of us.