Page 2 of Axe-Rated Lumberjack

“This book deserves better than somebody rushing through Drake’s dialogue because they’re desperate for a paycheck,” I said.

“I know. That’s what makes this so frustrating. Your samples have been wonderful, Peyton. I’m not willing to throw just anyone into the booth with you.”

I appreciated the compliment, although it did nothing to improve our situation.

“Keep working on your remaining passages,” Bridget continued. “We’ll handle the casting problem. And please don’t spend the rest of the morning worrying about it.”

“Of course not. I’ll simply concentrate on the manuscript while imagining Sunday’s deadline creeping toward us with a bloody axe.”

“That sounds about right. I’ll call when I know more.”

After we disconnected, I sat looking at Isadora’s next scene.

The heroine was supposed to be contemplating the dangerous attraction between herself and a cursed dragon. Instead, I was contemplating whether the male narrator had reached the chapter involving enchanted tree sap and decided he’d had enough of the author’s imagination.

Personally, I thought the scene was inspired.

A little anatomically ambitious, certainly, but nobody read dragon-shifter romance for a lesson in human biology.

I reached for my tea, discovered it had gone completely cold, and carried it into the kitchen.

The cottage smelled faintly of applewood from the previous evening’s fire. Morning light warmed the honey-colored floorboards, and a bowl of miniature decorative pumpkins occupied the little dining table. The rental photographs hadn’t done the place justice. With its cream-painted cupboards, mismatched pottery mugs, and thick knitted throws, it was exactly the sort of cozy retreat I’d imagined when I made the reservation.

I’d brought my own recording equipment, of course. A professional microphone didn’t suddenly become unnecessary because someone had provided a charming view of the mountains.

Back in the spare bedroom, I checked the levels on my last take, adjusted a pronunciation note, and settled down to finish the scene.

My English-literature degree had taught me to appreciate an author’s choices. My years working in book radio had taught me how to keep a microphone session moving when everything around it went wrong.

Neither had prepared me for a production crisis involving a sexually intimidated narrator and a dragon with questionable self-control.

Still, I managed another two hours of clean recording before my stomach reminded me that tea and professional determination weren’t an adequate breakfast.

I made myself toast, scrambled a couple of eggs, and stood at the kitchen counter eating while I checked for updates from Bridget.

Nothing.

A message from my sister had arrived, though.

CHELSEA: Please tell me you’ve actually left your adorable woodland retreat long enough to see the town. You promised me pictures.

I smiled. Chelsea could sell a house, organize a charity gala, and somehow make buying groceries look glamorous. She also worried that I’d happily spend my entire vacation talking to imaginary people.

Technically, this wasn’t a vacation, but I understood her concern.

PEYTON: I’m taking a break this afternoon. I’ll send proof that I’ve interacted with the outside world.

I considered mentioning the disaster at work, then decided against it. Chelsea would be sympathetic, but she’d also have seventeen suggestions, including at least three involving attractive men from her real-estate office.

The men Chelsea knew generally fell into two categories: men who were already dating women who looked like Chelsea, and men who asked whether I could recommend a good book.

At twenty-eight, I was still a virgin—not out of principle, but because I hadn’t met a man I wanted who wanted me back and made me feel comfortable enough to take that step. Chelsea’s suggestions were unlikely to change the odds.

I rinsed my plate, pulled on my rust-colored cardigan, and checked the weather through the front window.

It was far too beautiful a day to spend every minute indoors worrying about work.

Besides, I wanted to see more of the countryside that had persuaded me to come here in the first place.