August 26, Monday

"GIRL. GAWD. Golly," Frida howled. "You landed in Oz. Goats? Witches? I'd so be outta there."

"I can't leave now," I said. "I'll have to pay to have the house relisted. Besides, I'm getting a lot of writing done." I winced when I realized how ridiculous that sounded. Proof that writers would put up with just about anything to get words on the page.

"Whateva. Have you let the hunky stone man lay you down?"

I frowned. "Uh, no." I didn't want to say I was having second thoughts about Sawyer now that I knew—er, suspected—that he and Rose had been involved.

Frida sighed. "Don't let Curtis wreck this good thing for you. He's so not worth it."

"I know." Anger balled up in my chest. "Have you seen the latest?"

"No. What now?"

"My editor sent me a screen shot where Curtis is claiming the Skirts book series was his idea and he helped me write the books."

"No, he did not."

"Did."

Frida screamed. "Josie, I know you've taken the high road, but you have to fight back. You can't just let that piece of human feces—"

"I'm going to… fight back, that is."

"Oh! Good. What's the plan?"

"I'm going to have a curse put on Curtis."

Frida was quiet for ten seconds, then twenty, then… "That's the freakiest, craziest, most amazing idea I've ever heard. Tell me more."