Free Rules of Lying (Jane Dough Series) by Stephie Smith Page A

wife, and did … that? What would he think when the heroine of the next book did that to the hero? Just knowing the word nipple was in my book was more than enough to send me into an anxiety attack. I knew my face was bright red; the heat radiating from it was enough to start a fire.
    “You know what? I’d really rather you didn’t get my books,” I said, hoping my face didn’t melt into a puddle.
    “Too late! They’re on their way. Coming from Amazon. Overnight! I read the excerpts online, and they were pretty good.” His simmering excitement ignited, and he pushed away from the doorframe, propelling himself to the front of my desk, eyes bright, face lit up, his whole body quivering as though he could barely stand still. Any minute I expected him to break out in song.
    “I’ve been thinking about this all weekend,” he said, pacing now with such enthusiasm that he appeared to be skipping. “I can help you write another book. I’m a pretty good writer myself, so I’ll just send you little snippets every now and then that you can use. Really, you don’t have to give me any credit. Well, naming a character after me would be nice. But you don’t have to.”
    He’d stopped skipping and had put both hands on my desk, leaning toward me until his face was mere inches from mine. His blue eyes gleamed with anticipation.
    Oh God. Now I was wishing I was a puddle so that I could evaporate, never to be seen again.
    *****
    “Jane? Jane, are you there? This is your mother. Pick up the phone!”
    I reached for the phone on my nightstand, getting a glimpse of the readout on the clock. Six in the morning? What the hell? Mom never called this early.
    I picked up the handset and held it to my ear while I tried to wake myself up. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
    “Jane! Thank goodness you’re there!”
    I wanted to say, “Where else would I be?” but I was still asleep so I thought it instead.
    “I just got the paper,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I am so relieved—and happy for you.”
    “What? Tell you what? Relieved about what?” Good grief, what was in the paper now?
    “Dr. Bryan Rossi, that’s what!”
    I was awake now. And scrambling out of bed. My foot caught on the covers, and I tumbled out headfirst. Dang. Not the way I liked to wake up.
    I could hear a frantic, “Jane, Jane, are you there?” I groped in the direction of the noise until I found the handset. I took a deep breath and put the phone back to my ear.
    “What are you talking about? What about Dr. Rossi?”
    “That he is interested in you. Wooing you! A doctor! You may not put me in the grave after all.”
    Okay, at this point I felt like hanging up. Mainly because I was just trying to live my life, and I was getting sick and tired of remarks like this one. Putting my mother in her grave, my ass. She would outlive us all.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
    “The newspaper, Jane. The newspaper. There’s a picture of Bryan Rossi getting out of his white Jaguar convertible at your house, carrying gifts! Oh, I knew there was a reason you were so pretty.”
    Pretty? Me? This was coming from the woman who had made it her life’s work to drill into me that I was nothing special, starting with my birth when she’d decided—no doubt with a smirk—to name me Jane to go with Dough? Maybe she had dementia. Then my mind processed the word Jaguar. Jaguar? I loved Jaguars. How did I not notice his Jaguar? Oh yeah. I was too busy booting him out the door.
    I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Mom, start over. There’s an article in the paper about Dr. Rossi …”
    “About you and Dr. Rossi. It says Bryan Rossi woos romance writer. According to Katherine, the Associated Press has picked up the story and it’s everywhere, so it must be true!”
    Well, sure. If it was everywhere, it must be true.
    My first thought was how incredible that Katherine and Mom had already been talking,