Ny Times Book Review Subscription Novels & Stories

Emma answered the call, still nestled against Jake's side on the couch. "Maya, this better be good, because your timing is" "Em, thank God you answered. Are you sitting down?" Emma felt a chill of premonition. "What's wrong?" "It's not wrong, it's incredible. *The New York Times* just called me. They want to do a feature story on your emotional authenticity breakthrough, and they're considering your manuscript for their fall literary fiction recommendations." Emma stared at Jake, seeing her own shock reflected in his expression.

Chastity agreed sternly. “You don’t think Mother and Daddy saw this this morning, do you?” Chelsea asked with concern. “If they hadn’t, they will soon enough. Caitlin reads The N.Y. every morning at breakfast.” The N.Y. was a news website that put out a hard copy magazine every month. Beverly Balsom-Hudson worked there as a society reporter. “You think being pregnant herself she would be more . . . more . . .” “Decent? Sympathetic? Discrete?” Chastity offered up.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to watch since he didn’t watch TV that often. **** Beverly was at The N.Y. offices catching up on her email. The N.Y. was a two-year-old news website that put out a hard copy magazine every month. Some people called it a gossip rag. Whatever it was The N.Y. was the most popular online site in New York. The N.Y. was popular for not holding punches and printing anything about anybody newsworthy. Beverly had just made full-time employment. The pay was better than being a temp all over the city, but she still had to watch her pennies. New York was not a cheap city to live in.

For just $9 subscription you can pick up right where we left off, and even get a front-row seat to the worlds we’re building together. I’ll also post sneek peeks of my upcoming books, behind the scenes, extended cuts, spicy bonus scenes, playlists, opinion polls, just you diving more into the novel’s world. Thank you, from the depths of my soul, for believing in me, for cheering me on, and for being the most incredible readers an author could ever hope for. I hope you’ll join me on P*****n, where we can continue this adventure hand in hand. With all my love and tears,

I called again, moving toward the door but I got no answer. This guy is not only a nerd, he is also weird and somehow crazy. I wonder how I was going to cope with him when I joined his book club. I grabbed my phone off the table and unlocked it. As the screen popped on, messages flooded in. Group chats messages , especially the ones I've muted for a while now. ‘Arian Smith, Orleans College Book Club President, Accused of Misusing Club Funds.’ I blinked, trying to wake myself from the dream. I scrolled down, read it again and it was still the same.