Chapter 52

“Anything?” Gregg asked, sounding concerned.

“Nothing, damn it. He hates the fucking book and that’s it.” Spence slammed his hand on the desk.

“Spence, calm down. Breathe.”

“You breathe,” Spence growled.

“Okay. That does it. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Spence muttered to a dead phone.

As good as his word, Gregg walked into Spence’s office within ten minutes, since he had a key to the house—and Spence now had one to Gregg’s place.

Sitting in the other chair at the desk, Gregg took Spence’s hands in his, saying, “You’ve told me five times in the last week that you should have heard from your agent by now. Is that really true, or are you exaggerating because you’re afraid the publisher won’t like the book because it wasn’t written with Jeff?”

“That’s partly it,” Spence admitted. “I guess we didn’t always hear right back. Okay, we rarely did. Publishers aren’t like that, even with their established authors.”