Free Cover Model by Devon Hartford

blame him. It’s not like I’m in an actual warzone risking my life while getting shot at. This is a romance convention, for god’s sake. But we’re talking about Connor Hughes. I really don’t want to be in his presence for one more second.
    Indecision grips me. If I bail, I can count on Vince to stop giving me any new assignments. If that happens, I won’t be able to pay rent this month. If I get evicted, I’ll have to start couch surfing. When I wear out my welcome with the few friends I have, I’ll have to move back in with my parents until I can build up some savings.
    My parents.
    Ugh.
    They would love to have me come home. I can imagine what they’d say if I told them about my current Connor dilemma. If it doesn’t make you happy, don’t do it, Electra. Life is too short to waste it working for a bunch of corporate criminals. Why buy into their reality when you can create your own?
    My parents’ casual attitude is exactly why I have to tough this out. I don’t want to go back to living with them. Ever since I graduated from high school and they bought that failing walnut farm on the outskirts of Oxnard, there’s no way I’d ever move back in with them. Some people might enjoy living in an orchard in the middle of nowhere, but I don’t. I like civilization. Nothing like hot running water and a toilet that isn’t an outhouse. Every time I visit their farm, the seclusion drives me bonkers. So does the outhouse. It really stinks. I don’t know how they stand it. To this day, the thought of it gives me shivers.
    I groan inwardly. Time to suck it up.
    But I don’t have to like it.
    In fact, I hate it.
    But I’m a professional and an adult.
    Time to be a big girl and pay the bills.

Chapter 5

    ELECTRA

    While I sit waiting in the crowd near the front of the stage, I check my phone.
    Damn. Several texts over the last hour from Austin Thayer, the photographer from Trending Magazine .
    11:57am: In the lobby.
    12:34pm: Where are you?
    12:47pm: Going to convention hall. Meet u there.
    1:43pm: Show’s about to start. Are u here?
    I realize now that like always, I turned off my ringer before starting Connor’s interview.
    I fire off a text to Austin: I’m in the front row.
    I send it and twist around in my seat, looking for him. Everybody behind me watches me. I ignore them. After scanning the crowd, I see Austin standing at the back of the seating area. I wave vigorously.
    He trots up the aisle between the rows of seats, hunching down to be less conspicuous until he squats beside me. “Hey, Electra.”
    “I’m so sorry, Austin. I totally spaced. I had my phone off during my interview. I was—”
    He grins, “No worries. I kept myself busy taking a bunch of shots of the attendees and the authors. There’s a lot of famous writers here, from what the fans are telling me. But I don’t recognize them.”
    I grin, “What, don’t you read romance novels?”
    He grins sarcastically, “Do you?”
    “No,” I whisper guiltily.
    I’ve always liked Austin. We’ve worked on assignments like this before. He’s very cute in that clean-shaven surfer-next-door sort of way, but he definitely fills out his tight O’Neill surf T-shirt nicely. He has one of those long swimmer’s bodies with just the right amount of muscle to be manly, and wavy sun-bleached blond hair from actually surfing. His tan legs flex noticeably beneath his khaki shorts when he shifts positions. His forearm muscles dance when he fiddles with his camera. He holds it up to show me the view screen on the back. The photo shows a middle-aged brunette woman surrounded by two dozen grinning women of all ages. “Check it out.”
    “Who’s that?” I ask.
    “E.L. James. She wrote Fifty Shades of Grey.”
    “ She’s here? I’ve heard of her.”
    “I guess Rom Com Con is a pretty big deal.”
    “Wait, I thought you don’t read romance. How do you know who she is?”
    “Because there’s a giant sign behind her that says her name?”
    “Oh,