When she’d tried to get out of it by telling her agent, Margo, the Christmas novel lane was already overcrowded with best-selling authors, Margo had shot her down. Margo had insisted that Riley needed to do whatever the publisher wanted. Margo was confident Riley would have no trouble writing a holiday happily-ever-after.
But Riley wasn’t so sure. Still, realizing she didn’t have much choice, she was trying to give herself a holiday attitude adjustment and decided everything would be fine. She would just google Christmas and figure it out.
But first she needed to get through this live interview Mike had set up for her. And even though she had no clue what she was going to write about, Mike had pitched the story to Sunrise in the City, promising that they could have the exclusive on her big announcement, which included a unique twist.
Riley laughed a little just thinking about it.
Of course, Mike had been the one to also come up with this twist. He was from Los Angeles, and he was all about trading favors and leveraging contacts. Mike was only a few years older than she was, but he had this superior attitude that always made her feel like he was her boss, instead of the other way around. While she didn’t always appreciate his holier-than-thou attitude, the bottom line was Margo insisted she needed him, and Margo hadn’t steered her wrong yet.
Riley also knew they had to act fast to get the attention away from her last novel, Heart of Summer, which had been such a big disappointment for everyone.
Margo hadn’t minced words when she’d said this was do-or-die time, and that they needed to make some big changes to get Riley back on the best-seller list where she belonged.
Since Riley had started writing lighthearted, uplifting summer romance novels six years earlier, every book, even her first, had been a bestseller. In reviews, her loyal readers used adjectives like smart, funny, relatable, authentic, and heartfelt to describe her writing. But when Heart of Summer was released, those same loyal readers had been disappointed, saying Heart of Summer was missing the . . . heart.
There had been no one more disappointed than Riley to hear these reviews. She always put everything she had into her stories, and while she had struggled writing this latest novel, she didn’t think it was something her readers would pick up on.
She’d been wrong.
It was almost as if her readers knew her better than she knew herself. She had written Heart of Summer after breaking up with boyfriend, Tyler. The crazy part was one of the reason’s she’d ended their relationship was so she could concentrate on her writing career, a move that had apparently backfired, according to her book reviewers.
Margo had been even more blunt, saying that her last two novels had fallen flat and were missing what made her fans love her so much—a voice that spoke to them, that they could relate to.
So Margo had found Mike, the powerhouse publicist with an ego to match. He was all about doing whatever it took to make headlines and get media attention. His latest idea was to have Riley host an author event at a Christmas Camp over a weekend at a charming winter lodge in the Rocky Mountains. At the event, Riley would not only be talking about her first Christmas book coming up, she would actually be asking her fans at the camp to help her create that story by telling her what kind of things they wanted to see in a Christmas novel. In addition to getting feedback from the guests she met, there would also be an
ongoing social media campaign following her at Christmas Camp, where her fans anywhere in the world could also share their story ideas with her online.
Mike believed this kind of unique interactive experience would help Riley’s fans feel more connected and personally invested in her next novel, and hopefully, that would translate into more sales and put Riley back on the best-seller list. He also believed all the publicity could help boost sales of Heart of Summer.
Margo and the publisher had loved the idea. Margo also thought this Christmas Camp would help Riley get her Christmas creative juices flowing. This was critical because Riley needed to get a story outline to her publisher by the end of the year.
Riley was assured that one of Mike’s friends, Luke, whose family owned the lodge, would be planning everything for the Christmas Camp and all she had to do was show up and host an opening-night reception and interact with the guests. The guests would be some of Riley’s top fans who had been handpicked by her publicity team during a special social media campaign.
Riley had to give Mike credit for one thing. He’d been right about how popular this whole interactive storytelling idea would be. Within an hour of her publicity team announcing that she would be doing the Christmas Camp on social media, more than twenty thousand people had applied to attend.
While Riley had been stunned by the response, especially before they’d even posted a schedule of exactly what the Christmas Camp was going to be like, Mike had said it was proof that Riley’s Christmas Camp would be a win-win for everyone.
The lodge would get the publicity it wanted, and Riley would get a huge publicity boost herself, along with some great ideas for her Christmas novel.
Riley was counting on those ideas because right now, she was Christmas clueless when it came to what to write.
She was smart enough to know that the people who loved Christmas really loved Christmas. They were the kind of people who signed up for a Christmas Camp having no idea what it was. If she didn’t write something authentic, her fans had already proved they’d see right through her.
She hoped Google didn’t let her down and planned to start researching all things Christmas as soon as her interview was over.
If she ever got to the interview.
She laughed a little to herself.
This whole thing is crazy.
If someone had told her she would be here, in a cab driven by Santa during a freak snowstorm, racing to make a live interview announcing her upcoming Christmas story and Christmas Camp, she would have said they were nuttier than a nutcracker.
Another text from Mike lit up her phone.
THE PRODUCER IS GOING TO CANCEL YOUR INTERVIEW! WHERE ARE YOU?!
She winced. She could practically hear him yelling through her phone. She was just starting to text him back when the cab came to a screeching halt.
“We’re here!” her Santa driver announced in a jolliest of voices.
Riley looked up, and sure enough they were right in front of the TV station. Her laugher came from pure relief as she handed him a generous tip.
“I don’t know how you did it,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “You’re the best! Thank you so much!” She hastily put the hood of her coat up, opened her door, and immediately got blasted with an icy mix of whirling wind and snow.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed, blinking several times to get the snowflakes out of her eyes. “This weather is ridiculous!”
“Ho! Ho! Ho! It’s Christmas weather,” the Santa driver answered back with another big belly laugh. “Merry Christmas. Good luck with your Christmas book!”
“Thank you!” Riley shouted back as she got out and shut the door behind her.
As she made a mad dash for the door, she realized she had never told her Santa driver about her book. Confused, she glanced back at the cab.
But it was gone.
When she turned around and continued rushing toward the door her power heels hit a patch of ice, and everything moved in slow motion as she felt herself fall.
Chapter Two
A man, also heading for the door, reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her just in time. “Are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
Riley, her heart racing, looked into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. For a moment she forgot she was standing in the middle of a snowstorm. Her writer’s mind was too busy trying to figure out if she’d describe this man’s eyes as sapphire or cobalt blue.
When she realized she was still clutching his c
oat in the death grip, she quickly snapped back to the reality and remembered her manners. “I am so sorry!” Riley said breathlessly. “I didn’t see you.” Her last words were lost in a gust of wind.
“Let’s get inside,” the man said, opening the door for her while still holding on to her arm, making sure she didn’t slip again.
Riley gave him a grateful look “Thank you so much.”
The man smiled back at her. “Glad I could help. Wait, you’re . . .”
But whatever else the man was about to say was cut off by Mike hollering at her. “Riley, over here!” he called out.
He was standing by the TV station’s spectacular twelve-foot Christmas tree. While the tree glittered in all its festive glory, Mike simmered in all his impatience. “Riley, come on. I already checked you in. We need to go. Now!”
As Riley rushed toward Mike, he kept waving her forward.
“Come on. Come on. Come on,” Mike called as he strode toward the elevator, impatiently pushing the “up” button. It was already lit up, but that didn’t stop Mike from jabbing at it several more times.
Riley got to the elevator just as the doors opened. As she slipped inside, she mentally braced herself for what she knew was coming. And Mike didn’t disappoint. Before the doors had even closed, he was already letting her have it.
“Riley, do you know all the strings I had to pull to get you this interview?!” Mike demanded.
Riley fought to keep her cool. “Yes, I know, Mike. You’ve told me over and over again. I’m sorry I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault. The car never came, and I was lucky to even get a c—”
Mike cut her off by holding his phone up to her face. “You’re live in eight minutes. Eight minutes! The producers are freaking out. I had to say you were already here in the bathroom. They were going to give away your spot.”
Riley let Mike fire away at her. Even if she couldn’t control the weather, or her weather app, or the town car not showing up—which Mike had scheduled, not her—she didn’t want to waste time arguing with him. She knew there was no point. Right now, she needed to concentrate on was making her live interview and making Mike, her publisher, and her agent happy.
“I’m sorry, Mike,” was all she said. She knew he didn’t want to hear anything else.
As Riley undid her coat and shook off the snow, Mike gave her a sharp look and frowned. “I told you to dress festive. You’re wearing all black. You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
Riley looked down at her black leather pants and a fitted black cashmere sweater. She met Mike’s disapproving stare with a forced smile. “This is all new and in fashion. We’re in New York. Everyone wears black.”
Mike shook his head. “But not for an interview about Christmas. You need to be wearing red. Red pops. Red is Christmas. And you need to fix all this,” Mike said as he circled his hand in front of her face. “You’re a mess.”
“Wow, you’re great for a girl’s confidence,” Riley snapped back at him as she dug a compact out of her bag.
When she checked her reflection in the mirror, she winced.
Mike was right. It wasn’t pretty. She was a hot mess. She looked like Rudolph with a red nose and a flushed face. Her shoulder-length hair was all tangled up from wearing her hood, and the static electricity in the air had the ends of her hair flying everywhere.
Mike had told her to come early for hair and makeup, but thankfully, she had worked as a television news reporter for ten years and knew to always come camera ready, just in case. This was a great example of why because at least some of the makeup she’d put on had survived the storm.
She was trying to tame her wild hair and touch up her cherry-red lip gloss when the elevator door opened, and Mike ushered her toward the studio.
“Tom’s not doing the interview,” Mike said. “He had a family emergency so a reporter is filling in hosting this morning.”
Riley’s steps faltered. “What? Mike, you know I’m not a fan of these live interviews, but I agreed to this because you said it would be Tom. He knows me. He knows my books. I’ve done lots of interviews with him . . .”
“Well, you won’t be doing an interview with Tom today,” Mike said impatiently. “You’re lucky you’re doing an interview at all. This new guy’s name is Joe. Let’s just get you in there before you miss your spot. You’re a pro. It doesn’t matter who’s interviewing you. You’ve been doing this for years. Just do what you always do.”
Riley didn’t like his dismissive tone. “Mike, I know you’ve just come on board working with me, but remember I’m the one paying you, you work for me, and I’m a pro doing interviews because I prepare. I’ve already talked to Tom about the questions he was going to ask me. I explained to him that we’re still in the planning stages for this Christmas Boot Camp thing . . .”
“Christmas Camp,” Mike interrupted her. “Everything’s branded as Christmas Camp. You have to get the name right.”
“Got it. Christmas Camp.” Riley said. “Christmas Camp, Christmas Camp, Christmas Camp.”
Mike wasn’t amused.
Neither was Riley.
“What I am trying to say is that Tom agreed to steer clear of any specific questions about what we’d be doing at this camp since I have no idea what activities the owner has planned. So I don’t want this new guy asking questions I can’t answer. Has he been given the questions Tom was going to ask me?”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all good,” Mike said as he waved a producer over to them.
Anything else she wanted to say was cut off when a producer and audio tech surrounded her and started getting her mic’d up for her interview.
“We’re sticking to the topics Tom and I went over, right?” Riley asked the producer now. “My writing process, how my life as a TV reporter has inspired my writing, and then the basics of this Christmas Boot C— I mean Camp, Christmas Camp, that I’m doing?”
But instead of answering, the stressed-out looking producer took Riley’s arm and practically ran her over to where she’d be doing the interview. “We need to get you set up. Now,” he said. “Sit here.” The producer sat her down on in a director-style chair next to the host’s empty one.
The set looked like a living room that was decorated for Christmas. There was a beautiful Christmas tree with gold and white lights surrounded by lots of colorfully wrapped presents.
“Don’t worry,” a man said as he walked over to Riley and sat down in the host’s chair next to her. “You just need to answer the questions.”
The fact that he was shuffling through his note cards and never once made eye contact made Riley worry even more. She also didn’t like his tone. It was dismissive, not welcoming.
She sat up straight and spoke a little louder. “And you are?” Her own tone had bite to it.
It didn’t faze him. He glanced up at her like it was a bother. “I’m Joe Bramson. I’m taking Tom’s place today, and we’re on in two minutes.”
Riley instantly held out her hand. “Riley Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”
But Joe was already back to going over his notes and didn’t see her outstretched hand.
Riley quickly withdrew it. “Okay, then,” she said under her breath as she studied him. Nothing about Joe surprised her. He was your typical on-air guy with polished good looks. When she self-consciously tried to smooth down her own hair, she was relieved to see a hair-and-makeup person hurry over to her.
While they only had time to brush her hair, spray down the flyaways, and do a final powder, it made her feel a little more confident that she wasn’t going to look like a total hot mess on national TV.
“You’re going to do great,” the makeup artist whispered in Riley’s ear as she dusted her nose one more time with translucent powder. “I love your books. You’re one of my favorite authors.”
Riley smiled and touched her heart. “Thank you. That
means a lot to me.”
“I haven’t had the chance to read your latest summer novel, but I will,” the makeup artist said.
Riley fought to keep smiling. All she could think about was that she hoped she didn’t let down another fan with her latest novel.
“There,” the makeup artist said with a satisfied smile. “Much better. Good luck! I’ll be watching.” She gave Riley a thumbs-up as she hurried off the set.
Riley smiled back at her, thankful for her kind words. She loved her readers. Her loyal following had made her the author she was today, and she never took that for granted. Since her first novel, she had gotten hundreds of thoughtful e-mails from readers saying how her books and love stories had positively impacted their lives. Whenever she started a new novel, she always felt like she was writing for them, and she never wanted to disappoint them.
That’s why she felt she needed to do whatever it took to get back on track, even if that meant going way out of her comfort zone by hosting this Christmas Camp Mike had come up with and then writing a Christmas love story.
She rubbed her hands together to calm her nerves. They felt cold and clammy. She usually didn’t get nervous before an interview, but then she also didn’t usually do a live TV interview talking about Christmas, a topic she’d spent her whole adult life successfully avoiding.
Plus, she’d spent more than a decade in front of the camera as a TV reporter herself. Her college education and determination had paid off when, after climbing her way up the ladder, working in one small market after another, she’d landed a national correspondent position in Washington DC. The difference was, as a reporter, she was always the one in control, asking the questions. Getting interviewed and having someone ask her questions was a whole different ball game.
As she glanced over at Joe, who was now smoothing down his hair and adjusting his tie, she made the snap judgement that he wasn’t going to be a very good host. When she’d worked as a journalist, she’d hosted countless live shows, and she knew the number-one rule was to make sure your guest was comfortable before the show started. That was how you always got your best interviews. Watching Joe ignore her, and how he only seemed concerned about how he was going to look on camera, made her thankful she didn’t have to work with guys like him anymore.
Christmas Ever After Page 2