The Mistletoe Inn by Richard Paul Evans Page A

“It’s Kim, right?”
    He didn’t really need to ask, as I was wearing a name tag.
    I always get a little tongue-tied around handsome men. “Yes. I’m Kim.”
    â€œZeke,” he said. “I’m the guy from the gym . . .” When I didn’t say anything he said, “I helped you when you fell . . .”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œYou’re okay, right?”
    â€œYeah. I probably won’t need surgery.”
    He smiled. “Good. Would you like to be my writing buddy?” Before I could answer he added, “If you had someone else in mind, it’s all right. No pressure.”
    I brushed a strand of hair back from my face. “No. I’d like that. Thank you for asking.”
    â€œVery good,” he said. “I thought the premise of your book sounded really interesting.”
    â€œThank you,” I said. “And I thought the price of your book sounded very . . . reasonable.”
    He laughed. “I hope so. So I guess our next step is we should plan a time to get together.”
    â€œI was just going to my next seminar, but we could meet for lunch.” Then I remembered that I had already committed to lunch with Samantha. “Oh wait. I already promised a friend that I’d meet her.”
    â€œLater, then?”
    â€œNo, why don’t you join us? I’m sure she won’t mind. We’ll be in the dining room.”
    â€œGreat,” he said. “Then I’ll see you around noon. I’m looking forward to working together.”
    As he turned and walked off I noticed a few of the women looking at me. Heather looked utterly dejected.
    Lucky me , I thought.

CHAPTER
Fifteen
    The gorgeous man asked to be my writing partner. What critic is it within me that automatically questions his motives or judgment?
    Kimberly Rossi’s Diary

The next presentation on my schedule was titled How Not to Get an Agent. The presenter was Laurie Liss, one of the principals of Sterling Lord Literistic, a New York literary agency. Liss’s claim to fame, among other things, was discovering an unknown, first-time author named Robert James Waller, who wrote a book called The Bridges of Madison County , which not only made Waller a kajillion dollars but helped catapult Liss to the big time and earn her a coronation from the New York Times as The Queen of Schmaltz.
    The truth was I hadn’t sent my book to an agent out of ignorance. An agent, I thought, was just another hurdle I could bypass by going directly to the publisher, not realizing that I was in effect dooming my chances, as publishers rarely look at unsolicited manuscripts.
    There were about forty other people at the presentation and Samantha and I took our seats near the front of the room. Liss revealed what she called Liss’s List, a list of don’ts when trying to find an agent. I scrawled down the five things that drove Ms. Liss “insane.”
    1. Don’t tell me that your husband/wife/mother/etc. thinks your book is fantastic. Big surprise: they’re either biased or don’t want to hurt your feelings and probably both.
    2. Don’t offer me a bribe, especially a portion of the enormous amount of money you’re going to make off your book. I’ll just hang up on you. I take a percentage anyway.
    3. Don’t send me a photo. I don’t care what you look like. The other agents in the firm will hang it up on our bulletin board and draw on it with a Sharpie.
    4. Don’t ever slip pages under a bathroom stall. I will be so offended that you disregarded my privacy that I will use your pages as toilet paper, or at least send them down the toilet and probably clog it, making a huge mess of the bathroom. And yes, this really happened.
    5. Don’t ever claim to be the “next big thing.” You don’t know that. I don’t know that. No one knows that. It’s presumptuous and embarrassing