BLOGGER GIRL
MEREDITH SCHORR
Booktrope Editions
Seattle WA 2013
Copyright 2013 Meredith Schorr
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).
Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.
No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.
Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: [email protected]
Cover Design by Loretta Matson
Edited by Gabrielle Roman
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-157-0
EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-253-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013946451
Table of Contents
COVER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
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
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
OTHER NOVELS BY MEREDITH SCHORR
PREVIEW OF A STATE OF JANE BY MEREDITH SCHORR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PRAISE FOR BLOGGER GIRL
MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE
CHAPTER 1
I SLID MY MOUSE back and forth between 4 and 4.5 pink champagne flutes. I couldn’t decide if the book, Gladly Never After, was 4.5 flutes worthy. The ending was a bit abrupt and the hero was kind of obvious from the beginning. At the same time, it was certainly an engaging story, so much so that I took every available opportunity to turn on my Kindle to see what happened next, even while squatting on the toilet between beers at happy hour.
“Long!”
I saved a draft of my review and stood up. “Yes, Rob?” I walked into his large fishbowl shaped office knowing he wasn’t going to come to me. “What’s up?”
Rob handed me two sheets of paper. “Can you scan this to Bartlett?”
Removing the papers from his hand, I said, “No problem. Should I include a message?”
He scratched his thick head of brown hair. “Nah. He’ll know what it is.”
Rob’s recent takeover of a high-profile litigation was definitely getting in the way of my blogging. I had four books scheduled for review in the next two weeks and had received several more on my Kindle from publishers and authors in the past couple of days. Then again, it was my day job as a legal secretary at a mid-sized New York City law firm that paid my $1800 rent, not my voluntary – albeit immensely more satisfying – side gig as a chick lit book reviewer/blogger.
“Also, send an email to the team about squad drinks around the corner at Banc Café at 5.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Who should I include in the email?”
Rob was now facing his computer and without bothering to turn around, he said, “The whole team, Lucy, David, Nicholas, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah.”
Rob probably didn’t actually say, “Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah” but that was all I heard after “Nicholas.” Ordinarily, I preferred the company of friends over the partners, associates and paralegals that made up Rob’s team, but I’d make an exception if Nicholas was going to be there. I took stock of my outfit, exhaling a sigh of relief that I was wearing a flattering low-cut black top and form-fitting black skinny pants. I fingered my necklace, a platinum chain with an opal pendant that conveniently fell right in the line of my cleavage. “Sounds good. Uh, I forgot who else you mentioned after Nicholas.” Not that it matters.
Rob waved me away. “Just the team. The usuals. Add a sentence at the end about inviting anyone I forgot.”
“Gotcha.”
When I got back to my desk, I emailed the team about happy hour, casually adding Nicholas’ address somewhere in the middle. It was very short notice, but (a) it was free drinks and (b) Rob was the boss and by virtue of him being the boss, sufficient advance notice was not required. Once I confirmed that the email went through, I practically ran to the copy room to scan Rob’s documents and quickly emailed them to Bartlett. I glanced at my Movado watch, a gift from my parents for my 28th birthday earlier that year. It was 4:42. After I grabbed my enormous leather pocketbook from the bottom drawer of my desk and told Rob I was stepping away, I headed to the bathroom and called Bridget.
She picked up after one ring. “Is everything okay?”
I ran a brush through my long light brown hair and shook my head from side to side to give it some bounce. “Why would you ask that? Because I called instead of texted?”
“Bingo!”
Bridget had been my best friend since the 7th grade. Text messaging often won out over actually talking on the phone, but it wasn’t like telephone conversations were reserved for emergency trips to the hospital or anything. I removed the pink monogrammed makeup case I’d had since junior high school from the bottom of my pocketbook. “Having drinks with the team tonight after work.”
“The team, huh? Does that include your work crush? What’s his name again?”
“Nicholas!”
Bridget snorted. “I know! Nicholas Strong,” she repeated. “Rhymes with Long. I remember.”
“Ha ha. Be nice.” Mentioning the rhyming of my last name with Nicholas’ wasn’t one of my proudest moments, but it was after two flirtinis, and two flirtinis for a 101-pound girl were like five flirtinis for an average sized woman.
“Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Bridget said dryly. Gun shy after an uncharacteristic one-night-stand generously left her with a case of crabs, she hadn’t done anything with anyone in over a year.
“I’m not entirely certain he sees me as anything more than that ‘chick’ who occasionally connects him to Rob’s voicemail, but he’s serious eye candy. Chances are, we’ll exchange less than four words, I’ll end up extremely frustrated and regret going in the first place.”
“There you go, Ms. Positive! Good luck.”
“Thanks. See ya.” I hung up the phone and wiped the corners of my lips before applying a shiny but translucent gloss. I dusted a little powder over my nose trying unsuccessfully to hide the constellation of freckles that appeared at the tip. I zipped the case and returned it to my bag. I wished I knew how to apply dramatic makeup but every time I made an attempt, I looked like one of those freaky pageant kids.
When I returned to my desk, I noticed that Rob’s light was off. It was only 5:05. Someone needed a beer.
I opened my saved post to finish my review.
In closing, I would highly recommend Gladly Never After to all lovers of chick lit, particularly those
who prefer books with more action/dialogue and less description/ backstory.
Rating: 4.5 Pink Champagne Flutes
I set my blog to post the review at 6 the next morning and logged off of my computer. At least I’d be fashionably late.
***
I spotted my crew immediately upon entering the dimly lit restaurant. They had taken over the left side of the semi-circular bar. I stood up as tall as my 4’11” frame allowed and approached the crowd. Although my eyes looked straight ahead towards Rob, always the center of attention at these events, I used my peripheral vision to confirm that Nicholas was in attendance. He was talking to Lucy, a junior associate in the group. Lucy was actually really nice, but her straight blonde hair was always pulled back into a tight bun and her daily attire consisted of stodgy business suits. She looked like a librarian and I couldn’t imagine Nicholas being interested in her as more than a colleague. On second thought, maybe Lucy is one of those stereotypical librarian types who’s kinky in the sack. I had often wondered if Nicholas had hooked up with any of the female associates in the office while pulling an all-nighter or after one of the many firm-hosted parties. As I glanced back at Lucy in jealous paranoia, I was surprised to catch Nicholas looking directly at me. Could he tell I was thinking about him? Bridget and I always said guys had radar.
“There she is. My right hand. What are you having?” Rob asked.
I tore my eyes away from Nicholas and focused my attention on Rob. “A glass of Prosecco. Thanks.” I considered asking for a cocktail menu but wanted a drink in my hand too badly to spend the time considering my choices.
Rob raised one of his thick dark eyebrows and took a sip of his lager. “Beer isn’t good enough for you?”
“Not when the firm is paying.” I giggled.
Rob handed me my glass and I casually looked around. I caught Nicholas’ eye again and prepared this time, gave him a friendly wave.
“Hey you,” he said, smiling wide as his brown eyes darted down to my chest and quickly back to my face.
His appraisal of my rack, while subtle, was unmistakable. Not that a guy checking out a girl’s chest was an indication of actual interest. It was probably merely instinct for them, but I was still thrilled. I would be the first to admit that I drew attention to my chest since, being so short, I needed to give people a reason to look down far enough to see me. I raised my glass and smiled back. “Hey,” I said before turning back towards Rob. I wanted more than anything to go over and cock block his conversation with Lucy but I didn’t have the nerve. Checking out a girl’s cleavage was not necessarily an invitation for conversation.
“Did you send that email to Bartlett?” Rob asked.
Without batting an eyelash, I responded, “Did you ask me to?”
Rob offered a bemused smile. “Touché. I thought you might be too busy working on your blog to attend to such menial tasks like getting your work done.”
“When has my blog ever gotten in the way of attending to your business, Rob?” Rob loved to give me shit about my blog, but I knew he was joking. I had only worked with him at our current firm for four months, but had been his assistant at his previous one for close to two years. He had left our old firm more than six months earlier, leaving me behind with a promise to use his influence to get me hired as well. We worked well together. Although in his mid-fifties, Rob had the energy of a teenager and was extremely high-strung. I knew how to take him down a notch without threatening his authority.
“What blog?”
I felt a flush creep across my cheeks as I turned around to face the source of the question. I wasn’t surprised, since I blushed whenever I talked to Nicholas, even when the phone rang at work and I saw his name on my caller ID.
“You didn’t know about Kim’s blog?” Rob asked, his blue eyes reflecting amusement.
Nicholas shook his head, not removing his eyes from mine.
All I could think about was running my fingers along the dark stubble on his jawline. Never completely clean shaven, he currently looked like he hadn’t touched a razor in several days. I held his gaze, willing my voice not to give away my crush, but the heat on my face suggested a crimson complexion that probably already had. “I have a blog where I write book reviews.” I figured Nicholas didn’t know about my blog since our opportunities to socialize outside of work had been few and far between in the four months we’d worked together. It was that unfamiliarity which I blamed for my chronic bashfulness in his presence. Well, that and his overwhelming sex appeal. Unable to maintain eye contact a second longer, I glanced back at Rob hoping he’d pick up the dialogue.
“It’s incredibly popular. Publishers actually beg my secretary to read and review their client’s novels on a daily basis.” Rob beamed at me like a proud uncle as if he was somehow responsible for my blog’s immense popularity.
I turned back to Nicholas and smiled shyly. “Every other day basis is probably more accurate but yes, it’s a widely read blog. I have several thousand followers and get requests from authors, publicists and agents pretty often.”
Nicholas looked at me with admiration. “Awesome. What types of books do you review?”
I hated this part of telling people from work about my blog. I never knew if the attorneys would raise their noses in the air and judge my taste in “literature.” Here goes nothing. “Chick lit,” I admitted.
Nicholas tilted his head to the side. “Like the gum?”
I giggled as if I’d never heard that one before. “Yes, it’s called chick lit, like the gum. But it’s also a book genre. Like Bridget Jones’s Diary, The Devil Wears Prada. You know?”
Nicholas looked thoughtful as he rubbed his thumb along his chin. “My ex-girlfriend had a bunch of books with pink covers. Were those chick lit?”
Forcing myself to stay focused instead of wondering what his ex-girlfriend was like, how long ago they broke up and why, I smiled and said, “Probably.” Although chick lit had certainly evolved beyond stereotypical pink covers, it wasn’t the time to go into defense-mode.
Nicholas smiled wide. “Very cool, Kim!” Glancing at his empty glass, he said, “Time for a refill. Be right back” and walked towards the bar.
I tore my eyes away from the back of Nicholas’ light blue business shirt and back to Rob. But Rob was now talking to Lucy about some guy she had deposed the previous day. Boring work talk. I downed the rest of my Prosecco and walked over to the bar. After quickly getting the bartender’s attention, I ordered another glass, on Rob’s tab of course, and observed Nicholas finish sending a text. As he smiled into his phone, I felt my Hanky Panky thong practically melting off. At only about 5’7”, his stature might have kept him off of some women’s top five lists but since I was vertically challenged too, he was currently number one on mine. I couldn’t even think of who would follow him in second and third place.
“Penny for your thoughts, Blogger Girl.”
I snapped out of my list making and faced Nicholas, silently praying he was not a mind reader.
He looked at me expectantly.
I swung my free hand in dismissal and lifted my drink towards him. “Nothing important. Cheers!”
Nicholas clinked his glass against mine, said, “Cheers” and took a sip of his drink.
Following his lead, I took a sip of mine.
Nicholas inched closer to me. Speaking in almost a whisper, he said, “Having fun yet?”
Very aware that we’d never stood this close to each other and that these were practically the most words we’d ever exchanged one on one, I replied with faux nonchalance, “Can’t really complain about free drinks. You?” The cuffs of his shirt sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and I pondered whether the dark hair on his arms was coarse or soft. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers up and down his arm. I also wondered if he could hear my heart beating through my chest.
“Definitely can’t complain about that,” Nicholas agreed. “And a break from work is always welcome, especially these days.�
� He smiled. “Doing anything good this weekend?”
I had practically forgotten it was Thursday night, which was odd for me since I lived for the weekends when my secretarial duties did not get in the way of my reading. “Not sure yet. Probably drinks with friends. And I need to catch up on some reading. For the blog. What about you?” Please don’t mention a girlfriend.
“Oh, this and that.” His eyes glowed, almost like he was holding back a secret.
I bit down on my lip and without thinking, blurted out, “Do This and That have last names?”
Nicholas gave me a once over before shaking his head laughing. “I’ll probably spend most of it at work actually. So, tell me more about this blog.”
I tipped my head to the side. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. Like, what made you start it?”
“The condensed version or the truth?”
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. “How long of a story is the truth?”
“Why? Do you have a date to rush off to?” I swallowed hard. Nice, Kim.
Laughing, he said, “It’s just that your answer was rather mysterious, you know?”
I shuffled my feet. “Well, I usually tell people I started the blog because I’ve always loved to read, blah, blah, blah.”
“Blah blah blah. Gotcha.”
After he said that, he winked at me and when my knees wobbled in response, I grabbed the bar with my free hand. “The truth is that one day I was bored at home surfing the Internet and I found all of these blogs dedicated to romance books, like Harlequin stuff, and then I found some more devoted to science fiction, thrillers and so on. But I could barely find anything dedicated to chick lit and it pissed me off because I love it. I figured if I love it, there must be other girls who love it too and maybe if I started this blog, I’d find them and we’d bond.” I paused. “Aren’t you glad you asked?”
As his phone rang, Nicholas distractedly responded, “Yeah, that’s cool,” before bringing it to his ear. He whispered, “Sorry” before answering it.
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