to check her eBelieve in-box.
She and Julian had left Aunt Ella safely tucked into bed, and, at Vanessa’s suggestion, they took a walk in the sand along the beach, stopping and sitting on the embankment so she could show him the PR plan on her tablet.
He wore modern clothes, an indigo and white striped button-down shirt and jeans that made her forget, initially, this was all business.
Her strappy sandals and his loafers comingled in the sand in front of their bare feet.
He had nice feet. Nice feet? What did it matter if a client had nice feet?
She cleared her throat. “In order to gain maximum—exposure for you—”
Suddenly her business-speak took on innuendo?
“—we want to make sure you appear on as many websites and social media outlets as possible. Just last night, once I saw the plight of your property, I decided to contact all the English interest groups here in the States I could find, and not just the Jane Austen ones you and your publisher have been targeting.”
“Such as?”
“Such as English heritage and genealogical societies, literary societies, historical preservation groups . . . Here, I have a list of them. There are millions of people here with English ancestry and sentiments that could be approached for donations to your property. It’s just a matter of capturing them—and their attention. I’ve also put together the bones of a website dedicated to the property itself. Before it goes live it should have a video tour of your home on it, and an interview with you, too. You can even include some photos of your great-great-grandfather and stories of your ghost. Get people invested.”
He moved closer to see the tablet.
“Impressive. I’d never thought of it.”
“I’ve already managed to get your book added to more than a hundred online catalogs and websites. Here’s the list right here. I’ll keep contacting more as they come up.”
“Thank you.”
“And to further expand your reach—”
Innuendo, again?
“I have Kai putting together a book trailer using the footage from your show.”
“A book trailer? Similar to a film trailer?”
“Exactly. I also have him brainstorming ideas for a free app. Our goal is to have your trailer, your app, your cause in general—spread all over the cyber world. If something—anything—were to go viral, that could bring you all the donations you’d need.”
“Viral.”
“Yes, something, let’s say, on YouTube, that garners us millions of hits. It seems you and your publisher have just been focusing on selling the book—the steak—when in fact you should be selling the sizzle.”
“What sizzle?”
“What sizzle?! Why, your
Undressing Mr. Darcy
show, of course! Why would you reserve that for just the seven hundred or so at this conference and then the three or four hundred in Louisville, when, via the Internet, you could literally expose yourself to the entire world and their wallets?”
“When you say it that way, it sounds as if I’m some cheap striptease act.”
Vanessa laughed. “You’re a classy,
expensive
striptease act. We want people to make significant donations to your property.”
“What would my great-great-grandfather say?”
She smiled. “He’d be thrilled at your ingenuity. Is it any better or worse than marrying into money to save the property? Come to think of it, that would be another way to go. Have you thought of
that
?”
He tossed his head back as if the idea caused him pain. “Dear God, no! I couldn’t marry just for money.” He looked her in the eyes. “I could only marry for love, to someone I respect, someone that’s a true partner.”
Vanessa looked away from his face and back at her tablet. “Well, then. I’ve also come up with a QR code for you. It’s one of those digital codes that people can scan with their smartphones and then watch some of your show. I’m still trying to figure out where we can place it—and I’m surfing around to see what other causes you could
She and Julian had left Aunt Ella safely tucked into bed, and, at Vanessa’s suggestion, they took a walk in the sand along the beach, stopping and sitting on the embankment so she could show him the PR plan on her tablet.
He wore modern clothes, an indigo and white striped button-down shirt and jeans that made her forget, initially, this was all business.
Her strappy sandals and his loafers comingled in the sand in front of their bare feet.
He had nice feet. Nice feet? What did it matter if a client had nice feet?
She cleared her throat. “In order to gain maximum—exposure for you—”
Suddenly her business-speak took on innuendo?
“—we want to make sure you appear on as many websites and social media outlets as possible. Just last night, once I saw the plight of your property, I decided to contact all the English interest groups here in the States I could find, and not just the Jane Austen ones you and your publisher have been targeting.”
“Such as?”
“Such as English heritage and genealogical societies, literary societies, historical preservation groups . . . Here, I have a list of them. There are millions of people here with English ancestry and sentiments that could be approached for donations to your property. It’s just a matter of capturing them—and their attention. I’ve also put together the bones of a website dedicated to the property itself. Before it goes live it should have a video tour of your home on it, and an interview with you, too. You can even include some photos of your great-great-grandfather and stories of your ghost. Get people invested.”
He moved closer to see the tablet.
“Impressive. I’d never thought of it.”
“I’ve already managed to get your book added to more than a hundred online catalogs and websites. Here’s the list right here. I’ll keep contacting more as they come up.”
“Thank you.”
“And to further expand your reach—”
Innuendo, again?
“I have Kai putting together a book trailer using the footage from your show.”
“A book trailer? Similar to a film trailer?”
“Exactly. I also have him brainstorming ideas for a free app. Our goal is to have your trailer, your app, your cause in general—spread all over the cyber world. If something—anything—were to go viral, that could bring you all the donations you’d need.”
“Viral.”
“Yes, something, let’s say, on YouTube, that garners us millions of hits. It seems you and your publisher have just been focusing on selling the book—the steak—when in fact you should be selling the sizzle.”
“What sizzle?”
“What sizzle?! Why, your
Undressing Mr. Darcy
show, of course! Why would you reserve that for just the seven hundred or so at this conference and then the three or four hundred in Louisville, when, via the Internet, you could literally expose yourself to the entire world and their wallets?”
“When you say it that way, it sounds as if I’m some cheap striptease act.”
Vanessa laughed. “You’re a classy,
expensive
striptease act. We want people to make significant donations to your property.”
“What would my great-great-grandfather say?”
She smiled. “He’d be thrilled at your ingenuity. Is it any better or worse than marrying into money to save the property? Come to think of it, that would be another way to go. Have you thought of
that
?”
He tossed his head back as if the idea caused him pain. “Dear God, no! I couldn’t marry just for money.” He looked her in the eyes. “I could only marry for love, to someone I respect, someone that’s a true partner.”
Vanessa looked away from his face and back at her tablet. “Well, then. I’ve also come up with a QR code for you. It’s one of those digital codes that people can scan with their smartphones and then watch some of your show. I’m still trying to figure out where we can place it—and I’m surfing around to see what other causes you could
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