More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Two years ago, Jules and I started on the same day at St. Clair Press, one of the top publishing companies in the country.
Reminds me of the bold type. Jane, Sutton, kat starting on the same day.
She’s a marketing assistant and I’m the editorial assistant for JoAnna St. Clair, the founder and publisher of St. Clair Press. We’re completely different, but I think that’s what makes our friendship work.
The only reason I’m up past midnight is if I can’t put down the book I’m reading.
It’s a shoebox, but it’s all mine. No roommates or pesky younger siblings rummaging through my stuff and stealing my dad’s hand-me-down vintage concert t-shirts. As the oldest of five kids, I earned those.
“Wow, I really like what you’ve done with the place,” I announce, as I take in the entirety of his office. Empty shelves, blank walls. It looks like he’s been here seven minutes, not seven years. “It’s minimalist,” he says with an edge to his tone as he takes a seat behind his desk. His elbows rest casually on the chair arms, his long fingers intertwine and hang in the space between him and the desk. He looks like he’s in no hurry. Yay for me. “I actually think you went a step beyond that, this is more like nothingness.” “I like to keep things tidy. It doesn’t appear that is one of your
...more
he doesn’t even know about the time I rode the subway for three hours because I was reading a book and missed my stop.
There is a stack of books by her bed. Instead of a closet, there’s a clothing rack affixed to the wall with garment
I counterargued that as a collective they could probably make me a dress while I was sleeping. Barrett said it was only a matter of time before they used my rental designer wardrobe for their nests. Or started chewing up my books. That got me packing faster than you can say Colleen Hoover.
It was a tough decision, living with small possibly disease-ridden rodents or Barrett.
The windows are like porn. I imagine a decorated Christmas tree filling the large one on the main floor. Yes, it’s June, but a girl can dream. A black wrought iron gate and railing leading up to the stoop. This place is quintessential New York City. Or at least the New York City I had envisioned before I found my two-hundred-square-foot budget apartment in East Harlem. “I’m
I don’t know where to look first. The walls of bookshelves filled from floor to ceiling. A gold chandelier that offsets the dark navy walls. Cognac leather couches arranged around a fireplace. Did I mention the bookshelves? And there’s a ladder, too. There’s an honest to God ladder so you can reach the books on the top shelf because the ceiling is at least twelve feet tall.
The wall across from the bookcases is an art collector’s dream. Various paintings are set into the wainscoting panels behind a large and very sturdy looking desk. “This is my study,” Barrett says sternly. In contrast to his icy tone, his warm breath makes the loose hairs from my ponytail tickle my neck. “You won’t need to be in here.” He
“I don’t regret it. It was the best time of my life. Visiting Paris and Milan to travel and study. I still like to collect, as you can see.” “Oh God, I’d love to visit Paris.”
“I’ve always loved books and reading. When I found out there was an actual career where I could read books for a living, I majored in English literature and set my sights on New York.” “And you enjoy working at St. Clair Press? With my mother?” “Your mother, of course. She’s amazing. I’ve learned so much from her.” Chloe stares at her glass of wine before returning my gaze. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it didn’t matter that much to me. It’s not just a job. I love reading stories that the author has poured their heart and soul into with the hopes that it will connect with someone. And when I
...more
