BooksBarbecue
Back As Seen on TV Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  44. Chapter Forty
  45. Chapter Forty-One
  46. Chapter Forty-Two
  47. Chapter Forty-Three
  48. Chapter Forty-Four
  49. Chapter Forty-Five
  50. Chapter Forty-Six
  51. Chapter Forty-Seven
  52. Chapter Forty-Eight
  53. Chapter Forty-Nine
  54. Chapter Fifty
  55. Acknowledgments
  56. Discover More
  57. About the Author

“Are you really? Or are you just saying that because you’re my mother?” It was on the tip of my tongue to confess what I’d seen in her room, but she must have had her reasons for keeping me in the dark. I’d give her the courtesy of telling me on her own terms, in her own time. At least this was what I told myself to avoid raising the subject until I had a solid solution.

“I really am! After a shitty day of being stood up by a date and getting a rejection on a pitch, you corralled a gem of a new story from an episode of Million Dollar Listing. In the middle of the night! And you plugged it to the very same editor who passed on the first one. It takes chutzpah.”

“And a pinch of batty.” I bit my lip. Mom frowned upon self-deprecation and always called me out when she suspected I was fishing for compliments.

“It shows passion.”

My eyes welled up at the realization it wasn’t an act. She genuinely believed in me. I wouldn’t let her down. My story would be impressive AF. Derek would beg me to join the staff at Tea.

We ended the call, and I turned on the television. The selection was decent but didn’t include premium channels like HBO Max or Showtime. I supposed most people staying at an inn had things to do outside the room. Unless they were on a romantic vacation and spent all their time boning. This didn’t describe me. I glanced at the time on the clock on the nightstand. It wasn’t even six—too early to go to bed, and I was too restless to spend the next several hours reading or watching basic TV. I wasn’t hungry, but I could use a beer. The phone call with my mom had given me more incentive to get some answers. Maybe I’d get them at Brothers Brewery.

*    *    *

As I approached my destination using the directions gruffly provided by Lorraine—who was unwrapping premade pastries for the next morning’s continental breakfast (did anyone bake in this town?)—the wind picked up and affirmed my last-minute decision to add a scarf to my outfit. The white accessory decorated with pink roses in bloom had been a Christmas gift from a woman in one of my spin classes, an independent designer.