Free Found at the Library by Christi Snow Page A

book overflowed with information. How had he written this much in the three days he’d been here? There were diagrams of display ideas, notes on customers and products, and a plethora of little anecdotes.
    Mac was definitely a writer.
    Reading had never come easy for Tommy, but it wasn’t until his senior year in high school that they had finally correctly diagnosed him as dyslexic. Before that, teachers and educational experts had told his mom that he simply had a harder time learning than most and he’d adjust. Overall, he had done just that. But reading still remained a struggle. Nothing was more frustrating than struggling through reading something only to find out he’d misunderstood the entire premise behind it. That’s why he listened to books rather than reading them.
    But he loved books. They’d always held this mystical fascination for him, and that was why he created art around them.
    He glanced down at the journal. This contained Mac’s insight into his business. He wanted to read it. It would probably take him all week, but the effort would be worth it. He needed to do this. For some reason, it seemed important.
     

Chapter Five
    Why would a woman put a yippy dog in her purse when she could fill that sucker up with books?
    -Observations from Mac
     
    Mac looked at the clock for the hundredth time. It was still the middle of the night. He stared at his screen with no answers and no idea how to write book number six. The phone still hadn’t rung. It had been four days since he’d walked out of Tommy’s shop. For some reason, he had deluded himself into thinking Tommy would get some rest, be able to look back at what Mac had done, and realize that it truly had been with good intentions. That obviously was never going to happen.
    He wasn’t going to call, and Mac needed to get out of this creative funk.
    He opened the Love is War document and his fingers hovered above the keys. He knew what he had to do. With only five thousand words left to write in the novel, he had no choice if he wanted to be able to clear the slate and write his other contracted book. As long as this book sat unfinished, he couldn’t start the new one.
    He began typing. Three hours later, he pushed back from his desk. He felt sick to his stomach as grief washed over him. Rex and Thomas never truly had a chance, and that’s why he’d never been able to finish the book. He couldn’t accept Thomas’s fate.
    But theirs had been a star-crossed love built on the battlefield. And when two soldiers in the middle of a war fell in love, one of them was bound to perish. Thomas had been tortured and killed while Rex had been trapped, listening to his lover’s tortured cries. Their rescue came twenty minutes too late for Thomas.
    Tears welled up in Mac’s eyes...again. But he gritted his teeth, refusing to give into the emotions. That’s why he’d written the damn book...to purge those fucking emotions. No more.
    Mac walked over to his liquor cabinet on shaky limbs and poured three fingers of Scotch. After swallowing it down, he poured another.
    He walked back to his laptop and sent the book to Emily. He didn’t even send a message. She would know what it was. It was out of his hands now.
    While in his email account, he noticed the email from Stig. When Tommy had kicked him out, he’d called Stig that day, offering six figures to T. Garrett for the art piece, telling him to make the purchase offer anonymously to Tommy. This had to be that response.
    Mac opened it, drank more Scotch, and chuckled harshly. Tommy had rejected his offer again. No surprise there. Fucking A. He swiped a hand over his face, surprised at the facial hair there. How long had it been since he’d shaved? Obviously he hadn’t done that lately, either.
    Glancing at the clock, he sighed. Was this the measure of truly becoming an author? Unkempt, sloppy, and well on his way to getting falling down drunk at eight o’clock in the morning.
    He refilled his glass and