1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Susie

I throw my hands up and let out a silent scream before dropping my head on the table.

“Shhhh…” I look up to see Mrs. Baker, and her assistant Maggie, shaking their heads at me.

“Sorry,” I mouth, shrugging my shoulders and an apologetic smile on my face.

Mrs. Baker’s eyes crinkle at the corner and a gleam of humor dances in them before she turns back to the book she’s checking in.

This isn’t the first time they’ve witnessed me frustrated. Pleasant Hollow’s Library is one of my favorite spots to work. It’s quiet, but not too quiet, and I can turn to the shelves of books for inspiration if I’m stuck. Sadly, none of these things are helpful in any way today.

Turning my gaze back to the screen in front of me, I stare at the blank document, its blinking cursor mocking me. I slowly pull in air through my nose, hold it for a second, and then blow it out, my lips slapping against each other and making a very unladylike noise.

My deadline is looming, and the words for this story are nowhere to be found. My editor keeps reaching out to check if I have anything for her to review yet. I know she’s excited to read it–this story will be amazing, once I can actually get it going.

Who doesn’t adore a forbidden romance with a best friend’s brother trope? But here I am, completely stuck, staring at a blank page without any idea how to get this story started.

Writer’s block is the absolute worst! What’s even more annoying is that it’s not something I usually struggle with. To be honest, I thought when you became an international best-selling author, words would just easily flow through your fingertips.

Yet here I am, an international best selling author, with over millions of copies of multiple books sold, and I’m stuck in an imagination drought. Completely dry. It’s like I’m wandering the Sahara in search of water only to be constantly plagued by a mirage.

I hover my fingers over the keyboard and watch the cursor mock me with its continuous blinking. Blink….blink…blink. I drop my head in my hand. It’s hopeless. The words aren’t in my head at the moment. It’s just a big ol’ blank space.

“Anything I can help with, dear?” My body lifts out of the chair at the sound of Mrs. Baker’s voice. “You look just a little frustrated.”

“I don’t know what would give you that impression.” The corners of my lips lift sardonically. “Was it the scream or the banging of my head against the table?”

“That and the flapping of your lips.” A soft chuckle falls from her lips. “You’ll figure it out dear, you always do.”

She gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder, and I notice she’s holding Amelia Adams’ latest best-selling sports romcom. My stomach drops.

Some days, it’s hard not to have people know that you are Amelia Adams. Like today, maybe having someone tell me how much they enjoy my stories would help this story to formulate in my head.

This is when I struggle with only two people knowing I, Susie Owens, am also Amelia Adams. Talking to someone could really help.

My best friend Brie and my mom are the only two people, besides my editor, who know about my secret identity.

I could call Brie, but it will have to wait until school is out. She’s an elementary school teacher who is currently standing in front of fifteen eight-year-olds.

A shiver runs through my body at the thought of dealing with that many kids. Give me writer's block any day.

I lift my wrist and only to see that both Brie and Mom won’t be available until later; and I can’t sit here anymore.

I push the lid of my laptop closed and start packing up my stuff. Staring at a blank screen for hours isn’t going to inspire words to magically start manifesting.

A slight buzz comes from my pocket and I slide my phone out to see a notification from The Blitz Brigade, a football chat group I belong to. My heart leaps and lodges in my throat before it falls to my stomach with a thud.

It’s not Pull The Line responding to my message. It’s a general notification on one of the other conversations I interjected myself into last night in an attempt to distract myself from the radio silence of one particular person not responding to my last message.

Don’t get me wrong, egging this random person on was more fun than I should’ve allowed myself to indulge in. They are still talking about how Josh Owens isn’t having a good season, which is ludicrous because his stats are the best in the NFL. Fantasy managers are all but laughing their way to the championships.

But they are right about one thing, Josh is struggling.

How do I know? I’m his younger sister. I have no clue what the problem is but there is definitely something going on. He’s just…off.

I’ve tried talking to him about it but he keeps brushing me off. After these past few games, it’s become more evident to everyone. Even my Dad is starting to mumble about it.

Despite that, he still has the best receiving stats and is on his way to breaking some more records—if he gets his stuff together.

“Calling it in early today?” Maggie, the assistant librarian, asks kindly.

“I’m not sure yet,” I lift my head and meet her gaze. “I may stay a little bit longer and see if anything comes through for me to work on.”

Maggie’s eyebrows quirk and the corner of her mouth lifts. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I swallow and clear my throat looking at the table. “I never know if my boss will send something else over.”

Maggie smirks at me and tilts her head slightly. Her eyes have a mischievous twinkle.

“I’m thinking it might be time for a coffee break though. Nothing like caffeine and some fresh air.” I flash what I hope is a carefree grin.

“Very true,” Maggie nods before pushing her cart toward the bookshelves.

I’m almost positive that Mrs. Baker and Maggie don’t know that I’m Amelia Adams, but every once in a while I can’t help but wonder.

Maggie looks over her shoulder and winks at me. Like right now.

“Nah.” I shake my head and wave my hand. If they knew the whole town would know. It would’ve been announced in Tea Time –Pleasant Hollow’s very own gossip column–and it hasn’t made it there yet.

I shake the thought away and bring my attention back to my phone and The Blitz Brigade.

Still no message from Chase.

NotJOsSis: Hey PullTheLine…cat got your tongue? I didn’t think me commenting on the Jags offensive line would have been so controversial.

I hit send and immediately slip my phone in my purse. My stomach feels like a rock is sitting in it and I can feel my palms getting clammy. I blow out a breath and finish packing everything up.

“See you soon!” I wave to Maggie and Mrs. Baker.

I step out the door and let the perfect autumn day envelop me. The crisp air, blue sky, and trees with leaves sporting golden, amber, and lemon yellow tickle me, and I can’t help but smile. I love this time of year.

A niggling of disappointment lingers at the lack of response from Chase but I do my best to shake it off.

“Come on Susie. You don’t even really know if Chase is his real name.” I mumble as I walk down Main Street on my way to Thanks-A-Latte.

This is typical “me” behavior: I meet a guy, put all of these hopes and wants on the ‘relationship,’ and end up disappointed.

Is it any wonder that I write romance novels? My life is a comedic romantic tragedy in which I am constantly looking for my happily ever after. If I can’t get one in real life, the next best thing is writing about it.

My body gets heavy as I pull the door open to Thanks-A-Latte. Even the usual smell of roasted coffee beans doesn’t seem to lift my mood.

“Hey Rachel,” I do my best to force a smile.

“Your usual afternoon drink?” Rachel teases, and I nod my head.

Trouble with small towns is that everyone knows everything about you. It doesn’t help that I pretty much live here or at the library when I’m writing a novel.

“Rough day?” She asks as I scan my card.

“Maybe just a little,” I roll my neck. “I’m hoping that this picks me up a bit.”

“I hope it works its usual magic on you.” I watch as Rachel turns to get my drink ready. It’s a decaf Pumpkin Spice Latte, of course. What else would one get this time of year?

“Here you go.” Rachel places the latte in front of me and the heavenly scent makes my mouth water.

“Thank you.” My brow relaxes and a genuine smile crosses my lips. “Have a great day!”

I consider taking a seat at a table and trying one more time to see if I can find words to start this new story but then decide against it. There’s no point in forcing myself to write if I don’t even have a small idea of where the story is going.

These are times I really wish I was a plotter and not a pantser. You know, someone who outlines their entire story, rather than someone who flies by the seat of their pants.

I’ve tried plotting. I. Just. Can’t.

I head to the front door and it opens. Bill, Pleasant Hollow’s local mechanic, is there holding it open for me.

“Thank you, Bill,” My lips lift at the corners.

“You’re welcome, Susie.” He tips his hat and winks at me as he heads in.

For a moment I wonder if a story about a mechanic would work, but I quickly shake it off as inconceivable . I can’t help but chuckle at Vizzani’s voice from the Princess Bride speaks in my head. Sometimes even I can’t handle how dramatic my mind can be.

There’s a buzz against my leg. My heart jumps and I shift around my laptop and coffee so I can reach into my purse and grab my phone.

Once I’m holding it up a slow wide grin crosses my face. Finally.