Not Quite Over You. Susan Mallery

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Not Quite Over You - Susan Mallery


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“Vidar needs a love interest.”

      Jasper resisted rolling his eyes. “So you’ve told me.”

      “Hank’s right,” Sara added. “It’s time. You have female readers who adore you, but come on. You need a fully realized woman in one of your books. One who is more than a one-night stand or a victim. It will help you grow as a writer. Vidar falling in love will make readers bond with him more and bring the series to a satisfying conclusion.”

      A conversation they’d had before. Jasper knew the argument. Vidar, his ongoing hero, was too one-dimensional. He needed a personal life. A deeper backstory. Less grunts and more conversation.

      His argument that the character borrowed heavily from the Norse mythology—the son of Odin and a giantess named Grid, Vidar was silent and known for his physical strength and therefore was unchangeable—was wearing thin.

      What he didn’t tell them and would barely admit to himself was his resistance wasn’t about the story. He knew they were right in their assessment of his story arc. The problem was him—he wasn’t sure he knew how to write a woman and he sure as hell couldn’t figure out how anyone fell in love.

      “I’ll see what he can do,” he told them.

      “Excellent.” Hank nodded. “Now Sara has some interesting ideas about next year’s tour.”

      Sara smiled. “I hope you’re going to be excited. We want to do something different.”

      Their idea of exciting and his had little in common, he thought, but nodded to show he was willing to listen.

      Sara leaned toward him. “We want to send you to Europe. All your publishers there are clamoring to see you. England, France, Spain, Italy and of course Germany.”

      “You’re huge in Germany,” Hank reminded him.

      “We’re hoping for three weeks.” Her tone was cautious. “If you think you could manage that.”

      He’d never been to Europe, he thought. Never thought he’d go. He was fairly sure his passport was out-of-date, but that was easily rectified.

      “Make it four weeks so I can have a day or two off in each of the countries,” he told them. “I’d like to look around and see a few things.”

      “Excellent.” Sara jotted on her pad of paper. “Now about the US tour. We really want to push the book and have you visit as many of the accounts as possible.” She smiled. “Before you glower at me, we’ve come up with what we think is the perfect solution.”

      She pulled a large, glossy brochure from under the pad and handed it to him. Jasper looked at the cover and started to laugh. “Seriously?”

      The picture showed a luxury RV on a highway. He turned the page and saw a layout along with a list of amenities.

      Sara’s expression was hopeful. “We’d take care of renting the trailer and booking your trailer sites or camping spaces or whatever they’re called. In the big cities like Chicago and St. Louis, you’d leave the trailer parked at the site and stay at a hotel for a couple of days. But most of the time you’d be on your own, driving from place to place. No escort, no airports, no rush. What do you think?”

      “How long would you want me to be on tour?”

      She worried her lower lip. “Three months?”

      It was a long time to be gone, but it wasn’t as if he had a lot waiting for him at home. He thought briefly of Wynn, but theirs was a casual relationship—no promises, no strings. He’d left Happily Inc three days ago and he hadn’t heard from her. He would be gone another couple of weeks and they wouldn’t be in touch until he was home. Like he’d first thought—he was free to do what he wanted.

      “Let’s do it,” he told Sara. “I’ll use the road time to get my last book in the series figured out, then go home and write it.”

      Hank grinned. “Fantastic. Your sales are going to go through the roof.”

      Jasper nodded as if that mattered to him as well, but in truth, the writing was a lot more about keeping the demons at bay and his ability to look himself in the mirror than about any royalty check. The writing had saved him when he’d thought nothing could. Without his stories, he wouldn’t be here today—of that he was sure.

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