Writing Mr. Right

Writing Mr. Right Read Free Page B

Book: Writing Mr. Right Read Free
Author: Michaela Wright
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hoped Cassie couldn’t hear her weeping.
    “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t have what you want.”
    Georgia forced a laugh, and it was the snottiest, most pathetic noise a person could make. “How do you figure?”
    Cassie sighed. “Well, we know one half of that marriage is him. That alone tells you of its depth.”
    “A pot for every lid -”
    “And he isn’t in a single picture, Gigi. If you were getting married, would there be a single photograph where you weren’t fawning all over your honey pie?”
    Georgia sniffled, loudly. “No.”
    “Exactly. He got what he deserves. The universe keeps a balance, sweetheart. Give it time. You’ll have something far better than he could ever have. You should write it. Do you have a pen? Write it down, ‘I am Mrs. MacCready.’ Then, bam. Bound to come true.”
    Georgia laughed again, and it was only a little less pathetic. “Yeah, that’s part of the problem. I thought Walter was Mr. MacCready.”
    The tears started up again. She tried to swallow the feeling as her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it to find an unknown British number phoning in – the interview. Shit!
    Georgia put the phone back to her ear just in time to hear Cassie speak.
    “We both know he wasn’t Douglas, because Douglas would never let you go. Never. And he wasn’t a spanker, am I right?”
    Georgia snorted. Cassie had a naïve way of saying the right thing, it seemed. “Yeah, if he were real. Hey, my phone is buzzing -”
    “Shit, you sure you’re ready?”
    “It doesn’t matter. I’ll call you later.”
    “You better. I love you, hon. Don’t let this get to you.”
    Georgia nodded, ended the call, and took up the second one, sitting up a little straighter as she said ‘hello.’
    “Miss Mason? Is this a good time for you to talk? We’d love to ask you a few questions?”
    ***
    “He took her hand, squeezing it tentatively as he led her to the dining room table. The leavings of their dinner still strewn across it, Douglas wasted no time swiping it aside to lay her on the flat surface, helpless before him. Deirdre braced against him, kicking her heel into his thigh to hold him at bay. He gave her a dark smile, spun her around, and threw up her skirts before she could protest, walloped her backside so soundly, it echoed off the walls –“
    The woman had to be in her seventies if she was a day, and she read with such fervor and passion that Georgia felt almost voyeuristic to watch her. Still, it was clear that Mary wanted to relish each word, letting everyone hear her recite her favorite part of Woman in White for all the other readers to agree.
    “ The sting of his hand slapping across her backside drew such a cry, the men in the nearby tents roused in confusion.”
    The crowd cheered for her rendition, fawning in agreement. A few of them even clapped as Mary finished her recitation and shot Georgia a wide, satisfied grin.
    “If that doesn’t do it for ye, ye must be dead!”
    Georgia chuckled, holding out her hand to receive the copies of her books. The Seafarer was crisp and brand new. Woman In White was dog-eared and clearly well loved.
    “I’ve read that near to a dozen times, love. You’ve a wonderful gift.”
    Georgia exhaled, smiling. “Thank you so much, Mary. You’re too kind.”
    Mary snatched up both her newly signed copies and glanced inside the cover. Georgia signed it, ‘I should have you do the audiobooks.’
    Mary fawned over the page a moment, then leaned in, putting a hand to her lips in conspiracy. “Tisn’t even my favorite part.”
    Then she winked and was on her way. Georgia waved after her and took the book from the next reader in line, giving a wide smile and a quick chat.
    “You’ve got yerself some wild fans, ye do.”
    Georgia nodded at the middle aged woman with stick straight straw colored hair, bundled in the puffiest green coat she’d ever seen.
    “Believe me, that was nothing compared to some of my American readers.”
    The

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