Chapters (39)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Epilogue
- Excerpt from Boss Witch
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
Quickly, she finished her food and kissed him again, then he heard the water running while she brushed her teeth. His breakfast got cold while he fretted the idea like guitar strings, scrutinizing it from all angles. Suddenly, he realized he could imagine it. Making those reels had been fun. And while he wouldn’t want his face on every account he managed, he’d still like doing this for other people, making their socials funny and relatable, creating content to brighten other people’s days without making himself the focus.
Shit. Yeah. This…is what I want to do.
Right now, he was a househusband, though, so before he headed to the campaign office to pitch in, Trev fulfilled that requirement by cleaning the kitchen and the bathrooms, then he dusted and let the Roomba run wild while he put in a load of laundry. Anyone who said this wasn’t a real job had never done it, that was for damn sure. He had to hang certain clothes up to dry and load the dryer before he went out, so while he waited for the washer to finish, he searched for the classes she’d mentioned.
Soon, he had a bunch of potential courses to assess, along with one online school that offered a certificate in social media marketing and management. Trev bookmarked the sites and then hung up the delicates and tossed the rest of the clothes into the dryer with a sheet. Wonder if I should sell my car. An electric bike would be cheaper, and I could pay for classes with the rest.
There was no need to decide now, but for the first time in ages, he felt hopeful about the future. Of course, none of this was a cure for the dark cloud he didn’t want to term depression that’d gripped him tight for years. That would require talking to someone and maybe getting on the right meds. He just had to work up the nerve to do it and try not to let his old man’s brainwashing succeed in making him feel like this was mental weakness of some kind. In fact, when he considered therapy an act of rebellion, it got easier.
That’s the next thing I’ll do for myself. If I sell my car, I can afford it.