confidently as she could toward the security guard at the door.
“Name,” he demanded brusquely.
“Ava. Ava Jacobs.”
Straightening her dress and squaring her shoulders, Ava forced herself to at least appear to be confident.
He stuffed a lanyard into Ava’s clammy hand. “Here. Down the hall then turn left. Third door. They’re expecting you.”
As Ava shuffled down the deserted corridor, her heart pounded and it was taking everything she had not to vomit. The voices in her head were screaming, telling her to turn and run. Gulping down the lump in her throat, Ava forced her feet to keep moving forward.
Forty-five minutes later, with her hair fluffed, a thick coat of makeup plastering her face and her knees white from the moments spent bent over the toilet bowl emptying her nervous stomach, Ava was led through a maze and onto the set of the breakfast program.
“Hi Ava,” a rich voice greeted her. The voice belonged to a man wearing fitted jeans and a striped shirt. Ava opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. “Nervous?”
“Petrified.”
“Don’t be. We’re harmless.” His perfect brunette co-host appeared. “This is going to be relatively simple. I’m Quinn.”
Wiping her hands on her thighs, Ava reached over and accepted Quinn’s immaculately manicured hand. “I know.” Ava giggled at her own pathetic fan girl moment. “Ava Jacobs.”
“And you’ve already met my bonehead of a co-host, Adrian. You ready for this?”
“Honestly? Not at all.”
“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. We’re just going to have a chat. You’ll be great.”
With greetings out the way, Ava was ushered into a red leather armchair and handed a glass of water. Taking a sip, Ava coughed as the crew ran through a list of instructions. Answer the questions in full sentences. Don’t stare directly into the camera. Try not to stutter. Don’t fidget. Smile. And whatever you do, keep your knees together.
Before Ava had a chance to panic, the lights became even brighter and Quinn and Adrian stopped talking between themselves and snapped into reporter mode. “This morning we welcome to our couch Ava Jacobs, an emerging Australian author whose first book, Perfection is Just an Illusion , has just been released and is doing amazing things. Good Morning, Ava.”
“Morning, Quinn. Hi, Adrian.”
Ava heard her own voice and didn’t recognize it. It was pitchy and squeaky. She could hear the blood gushing in her ears and the impulse to throw up was stronger than ever. She forced herself to take a huge gulp of air.
“So Ava, your debut novel, Perfection is Just an Illusion , went live a couple of months ago. How’s it all been so far?”
Forcing out the lung full of air she’d been holding, Ava squeezed her hands together and looked directly at Quinn. “Honestly, it has been an unbelievable rollercoaster ride, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian probed.
“When I started this, all I really wanted was for someone to read it. And after that the dream was to be able to walk into my local bookstore and see it sitting on the shelves with the real books.”
“And now it is,” Quinn added with a dazzling smile.
“So I’ve read the story of Anna and James and I have to say, Ava, I felt so sorry for them. So many ups and downs and that horrible ex of hers—well, he just gave me the creeps. But I have to ask what’s next? Is there more Anna and James to come? I know I want to know what happens next.”
“Absolutely. All the reviewers were very clear about what they thought and it was exactly that. A sequel? I hadn’t given a sequel any thought at all to tell you the truth, but after some hinting from the publishers and the reviews not being quite as subtle, I’m attempting to write the follow up at the moment.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re not going to let us in on the secret how it all turns out?”
“I would if I could, Adrian.” Ava’s words evoked a chuckle from the
“Name,” he demanded brusquely.
“Ava. Ava Jacobs.”
Straightening her dress and squaring her shoulders, Ava forced herself to at least appear to be confident.
He stuffed a lanyard into Ava’s clammy hand. “Here. Down the hall then turn left. Third door. They’re expecting you.”
As Ava shuffled down the deserted corridor, her heart pounded and it was taking everything she had not to vomit. The voices in her head were screaming, telling her to turn and run. Gulping down the lump in her throat, Ava forced her feet to keep moving forward.
Forty-five minutes later, with her hair fluffed, a thick coat of makeup plastering her face and her knees white from the moments spent bent over the toilet bowl emptying her nervous stomach, Ava was led through a maze and onto the set of the breakfast program.
“Hi Ava,” a rich voice greeted her. The voice belonged to a man wearing fitted jeans and a striped shirt. Ava opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. “Nervous?”
“Petrified.”
“Don’t be. We’re harmless.” His perfect brunette co-host appeared. “This is going to be relatively simple. I’m Quinn.”
Wiping her hands on her thighs, Ava reached over and accepted Quinn’s immaculately manicured hand. “I know.” Ava giggled at her own pathetic fan girl moment. “Ava Jacobs.”
“And you’ve already met my bonehead of a co-host, Adrian. You ready for this?”
“Honestly? Not at all.”
“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. We’re just going to have a chat. You’ll be great.”
With greetings out the way, Ava was ushered into a red leather armchair and handed a glass of water. Taking a sip, Ava coughed as the crew ran through a list of instructions. Answer the questions in full sentences. Don’t stare directly into the camera. Try not to stutter. Don’t fidget. Smile. And whatever you do, keep your knees together.
Before Ava had a chance to panic, the lights became even brighter and Quinn and Adrian stopped talking between themselves and snapped into reporter mode. “This morning we welcome to our couch Ava Jacobs, an emerging Australian author whose first book, Perfection is Just an Illusion , has just been released and is doing amazing things. Good Morning, Ava.”
“Morning, Quinn. Hi, Adrian.”
Ava heard her own voice and didn’t recognize it. It was pitchy and squeaky. She could hear the blood gushing in her ears and the impulse to throw up was stronger than ever. She forced herself to take a huge gulp of air.
“So Ava, your debut novel, Perfection is Just an Illusion , went live a couple of months ago. How’s it all been so far?”
Forcing out the lung full of air she’d been holding, Ava squeezed her hands together and looked directly at Quinn. “Honestly, it has been an unbelievable rollercoaster ride, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian probed.
“When I started this, all I really wanted was for someone to read it. And after that the dream was to be able to walk into my local bookstore and see it sitting on the shelves with the real books.”
“And now it is,” Quinn added with a dazzling smile.
“So I’ve read the story of Anna and James and I have to say, Ava, I felt so sorry for them. So many ups and downs and that horrible ex of hers—well, he just gave me the creeps. But I have to ask what’s next? Is there more Anna and James to come? I know I want to know what happens next.”
“Absolutely. All the reviewers were very clear about what they thought and it was exactly that. A sequel? I hadn’t given a sequel any thought at all to tell you the truth, but after some hinting from the publishers and the reviews not being quite as subtle, I’m attempting to write the follow up at the moment.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re not going to let us in on the secret how it all turns out?”
“I would if I could, Adrian.” Ava’s words evoked a chuckle from the
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