Page 25 of The Midnight Frequency

There was a strange fluttering sensation in my chest as I unfolded the comments.

And there it was.

The interest.

I mean, people were mostly interested in hearing someone take Silas down a notch or two. But what mattered was that they cared enough to comment.

Dude, it was so satisfying to hear someone rebut the guy for a change.

Notice how he didn’t ‘next caller’ her. He might not agree with her, but he respected her more than the other callers.

Am I the only one who noticed a little spark? Team #SilMad.

The Midnight Frequency? More like The Midnight Chemistry.

They just kept going from there. Dozens and dozens of people who were a little invested.

Mostly in Silas’s downfall, but, hey, a win was a win when it came to ratings.

I sat back in my chair as even more comments kept posting in real time from people who likely just caught the episodes on their way to work or school.

I clicked my pen cap over and over, a staccato sound I found relaxing.

I knew how to save Silas’s show.

And by extension, my book.

I had to call in again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

[ “IF SHE STOPS arguing with you, you didn’t win. You got archived.”

— Alpha Mindset - Episode 63]

Maggie

“Why are you so antsy?” Tess asked, perched on the side of my desk, stabbing her chopsticks into the carton to swirl some lo mein.

“I’m not.” She shot me a raised brow. Just one. A perfectly arched one. “Fine. I just think I’m a little over-tired. Last night was a lot.”

“You were so in the zone that you didn’t even notice when I walked out into the hallway bare-ass naked because I forgot to grab a towel. It’s so good to see you writing again. Do you know you were laughing at yourself at one point?”

“These characters have really good banter.”

“And I don’t have a copy in my inbox because…”

“I just want to keep this one to myself right now. I’m afraid if I open myself up to any kind of feedback at this stage—glowing or otherwise—that I might lose my mojo.”

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the heroine was an aspiring romance writer and her love interest was a grumpy vampire.

Sure, she was his administrative assistant. And he was a businessman, not a radio host. But Tess would know immediately where the couple came from. Then I would never hear the end of it.

“Well, I’m happy to read whenever you want to send me pages, you know that. And—uh-oh,” she said when there was a distant shriek that had both of us wincing.

My shoulders went up to my ears as the sound drew closer and closer.

It didn’t matter how many times I heard a banshee scream; I never got used to it.