Snow write and the rest.., p.1
Snow Write: ...and the rest of the story, page 1
SNOW WRITE … AND THE REST OF THE STORY
CAERA EVERLY
Snow Write … and the rest of the story
Copyright 2023 by Caera Everly Et al.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First printing, 2023
For every little girl ever told to hush, who grew up to be a storyteller, and those who have yet to find their voice.
Author’s Note:
This story is intended for readers 18+. It is a #whychoose romance, with explicit descriptions of sexual activity between members of a nontraditional relationship. If you are offended by material of this nature, please do not proceed.
However, If you are like me and have an adventurous nature, read on. Thank you for taking a chance on an unknown author.
Snow Write is a work of fiction inspired loosely by the Brothers Grimm and the real life shenanigans of some of my favorite folks in Romancelandia. It is intentionally tongue in cheek and shouldn’t be taken at all seriously.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Acknowledgments
About the Author
PROLOGUE
Once upon a time…
as all the best bedtime stories begin, there was a handsome prince in search of a princess to secure his future Kingdom.
And a beautiful princess who–down on her luck and hiding from her wicked stepmother—shacks up in a cottage deep in the dark forest with seven hardworking guys.
When the wayward princess falls prey to a bite of a poisoned apple, compliments of her sinister stepmom, the prince rides in to save the day, and they all live happily ever after.
But wait, this isn’t that story… sure there’s a prince and a wayward princess, and a lodge deep in the dark forest, and a wicked stepmother–oh–um, okay, that does sound very similar but wait, there’s more–you’ll see.
Ahem…
Once upon a time, long ago…
in the Queendom of Romancelandia, within the Charmed City, there lived a prince who was next in line to inherit the largest publishing house in all the land. But, first, he needed to prove himself worthy by finding and marrying a best-selling author princess.
One night the charming young prince and his father traveled far away to an Independent Book Shop for a book signing featuring the king of romance, best-selling author William Wordsmith. The romance king was accompanied by his lovely daughter Winter Wordsmith. The young princess kept the young prince enthralled all evening, regaling him with her own sweet stories.
At the end of the evening, on their way out of the bookstore, the prince snuck away from his father to give Winter a gift. But, carried off by the crowd, he became lost in the strange city. His father searched extensively to no avail and, after a time, returned home to his Publishing House. He mourned his son's loss but never truly abandoned the search.
The young prince, lost and hungry, found himself living in an orphanage with many other lost princes and princesses. (Yes, yes, I know how unlikely such a thing is—it’s a story, so hush and listen.) Over the years, Charming, as he came to be known, befriended seven other lost princes, and the eight became closer than blood, as chosen families often do.
After a time, the eight also took a young girl named Debi into their family, but that is a story for another day.
When the eight came of age and moved on, they were saddened that they couldn’t bring their sister with them. Because eight older guys and one young girl… (this isn’t that kind of story). But they all kept in touch.
Eventually, Charming was able to reunite with his birth family, and, thanks to his inheritance of his grandmother’s residuals, the eight moved into an amazing home together. Charming, by necessity, split his time between living with his chosen brothers and his long-lost parents.
About that time, Winter’s life took a turn for the worse when her beloved father passed away. Her vengeful stepmother cast her out in a fit of jealous rage. After a few days of living on the streets, Winter was battered and beaten for the money in her small purse, then left for dead. She was found covered in snow, clutching a small pen and notebook full of stories, but with no memory of who she was or where she lived. As she had no recollection of her name, the EMTs decided to call her Snow Write. They sent her off to the orphanage, where—wait for it, the Eight’s lonely sister Debi waited for a new friend… and that is where our story begins…
CHAPTER ONE
Once upon a time, eight years later…
in the Queendom of Romancelandia, within the Charmed City, there lived an aspiring author named Snow Write. She lived in a tiny studio apartment, nestled over a small indie bookstore, where she wrote the sweetest of romances full of chaste kisses, meaningful glances, and closed doors—the types of romances Snow had experienced firsthand. Even as she wrote, she longed to know what went on behind those closed doors, but alas, her V card had yet to be punched.
Snow worked diligently, sprinting with her writing group daily, marketing on her Allupinyourbusiness and TheClockIsTicking social media platforms, working with her editor, then sending her story out for advance reviews. Finally, the day came to publish her debut. With shaking fingers, she clicked save and publish for the very first time, and then she waited for the reviews to post. Feedback from her advance readers was positive, and her hopes—high.
Elsewhere in the Charmed City, hunched over an outdated laptop in a dark corner of Books and Baubles, slurping overpriced burnt coffee, Helene Highenmighty, the disgruntled former book reviewer for the New City Times, scoured Jungle dotcom’s new Got-You release listings in search of her next victim.
“Jungle, Jungle, tell me all…who is the next author that will fall?”
“Oh, my wordy wonder, you are wise ‘tis true, but Snow Write’s new novel is too sweet for you.”
“Psha, there’s no such thing. Wait, what? Sweet, you say? Let me grab the Got-You copy and see.” Helene clicked the yellow “Read For Free” tab. A sinister smile snaked across her lips as she drew her Jungle Got-You-two tablet from the pocket of her bag and began to read.
Back in her living room, Snow Write worried her fingers together into knots and chewed on her lip as she paced her tiny apartment in three-stride passes, turning at the wall beyond her futon and then again at the small counter separating her tiny fridge and stove. With each pass, she cast furtive glances at the computer resting on the stack of Jungle boxes that doubled as her desk. The browser window displayed her Jungle Got-You listing. It had been hours—no reviews had come in, her rank was stuck at 110,000, and her ads weren’t posting. It was officially the worst launch day ever. Well, it was true it was her only launch day ever, but that was beside the point. There was nothing she could do, so she poured herself a stiff drink, pulled out her Jungle Got-You-two tablet, opened her best author friend’s new release, and settled down on the futon to drown her sorrows in vodka and dragon porn. She read and drank long into the night, but her incessant refreshing of the Jungle Got-You page showed no change, and eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.
Some hours later, she roused to a flurry of incoming It'sATrapp message alerts on her phone. Squinting against the midmorning light and the pounding of a hangover headache, she swiped the phone screen to find 75 unread messages. She scrolled down to the first of two dozen from her editor and clicked it open.
Phoebe Fluffertome
Snow, have you seen it?
It’s bullshit, and she’s a troll, don’t look.
Are you okay?
Where are you?
Do I need to send paramedics?
The messages continued becoming increasingly frantic until finally:
Phoebe Fluffertome
Where are you?
Why aren’t you answering me?
It’s just one review.
One you must absolutely not read.
Seriously, it isn’t the end of the world.
Call me!
A review? Snow wondered, then squealed into her pillow, “I got a review, I need to look.” And ignoring in her excitement all of Phoebe’s admonishments to absolutely not look, she clicked the key to refresh the Jungle Got You page again, and sure enough, one lone review had finally posted. Scrolling quickly down to the reviews, Snow’s heart sank.
1-Star Sickeningly Sweet Helen Highenmighty Thorn Voice and Verified Purchase
Though expertly edited and well-written, this drivel is the stuff
Snow slumped back onto the futon, tears flooding her eyes. Her discarded phone began ringing, Phoebe’s photo lighting its screen. She considered letting it go to voicemail but swiped to answer at the last moment.
“Oh, My Dragon, thank goodness you answered,” Phoebe shouted into the phone before Snow could say anything. “Why didn’t you message me? You looked, didn’t you? I told you not to look. It’s just one review. She’s a known troll….” Phoebe babbled on for several minutes offering all the bad review platitudes, then finally paused to give Snow a chance to respond.
“It’s okay—I’ll be fine. I can always keep working at the bookstore,” Snow sniffled in her usual lemonade-out-of-lemons way.
Phoebe set aside her amazing editor hat and stepped into her awesome hype-girl cheerleader role. “Snow, you know it is okay to not be okay, right? This sucks. You don’t have to put on a happy face for me. Give it a day or two. Your advance readers will come through for you, and this glitch will pass.”
“I know, I’m fine, I’m fine, really I’m fine,” Snow repeated, and each time Phoebe became more certain, she really was anything but fine.
“You know you really should just get away for a couple days. I’ll call Debi and have her clear your calendar for the weekend.”
Debi Doitall, Snow’s personal assistant and mania manager, was Snow’s next call. Actually, she would have been her first call had Phoebe not called first. Snow choked down a sob, then sighed, “I’ll call her. I’ll need to go over some things if I am going to be out of touch for a few days. Thank you, Phoebe, for all you do. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Keep in touch. I worry, you know,” Phoebe coaxed.
“I will, I promise.” Snow ended the call and turned the ringer off and the volume down on her notifications before tossing the phone next to her laptop. She paused to reread the rotten review as if it weren’t already burned into her brain.
She should call Debi, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she pushed herself up from the futon, stripped her sleep-worn, panic-sweat-soaked clothes from her body, and, dropping them in a trail behind her, forced her feet to carry her to the tiny bathroom where she could hide her tears in the steamy shower. She twisted the control further than her normal steamy setting, and convincing herself that she could blame any tears on the burn, she stepped in and allowed them to fall.
Snow slid down the shower wall to slump under the punishing spray, where she stayed long after the hot water turned to ice—numbing her limbs, if not the ache in her heart and the pounding pain in her head. It wasn’t until the water stopped and a fluffy towel wrapped around her that she realized the pounding wasn’t entirely her headache. Debi was there and had let herself in to rescue her.
“Come on, Snow. We have stuff to do. You can’t get out of it by freezing yourself to death,” her no-nonsense tone allowed no objection. Debi pulled her upright and waited for her to regain her balance before shoving clothes at her, muttering, “get dressed,” before stepping out of the bathroom.
Several minutes later, dressed, teeth brushed, and hair combed, Snow glanced at her puffy face and bloodshot eyes in the mirror. She looked as bad as she felt, but at least she didn’t smell bad.
The scent of fresh coffee and breakfast cooking greeted her beyond the bathroom. Debi turned to press a large mug of coffee into one hand and a bottle of water into the other before returning her attention to the bacon sizzling in the frying pan. “Drink!” It was an order.
Following it, Snow took a deep sip of coffee, moaning as the dark roast elixir soothed her throat and warmed her still-chilled body. She settled down on the futon, dropped the water bottle on the table, and noticed her laptop was closed.
Debi shut off the burner and scooped scrambled eggs and bacon onto a plate. Turning just as the toaster popped, she grabbed the browned bread, slathering it with butter and cutting the slices diagonally before arranging the triangles on the plate. She took two steps before handing the plate to Snow. “Eat.” Another order.
Snow took another quick sip of coffee before setting the cup down and responding, “Bossy much?”
“Someone needs to keep this ship from crashing into the shore. You weren’t answering your It'sATrapp messages or your phone. Phoebe messaged me asking if you called, so I know you’ve seen it.” She rolled her eyes and mimed gagging herself with her finger. “I am already in damage control mode. It looks like Jungle released at least some of the advanced reviews, which are all great! I’ve booked you a room at a great retreat just outside the city. You’re booked through the weekend with the option to extend. You can unplug, regroup, maybe work on the new book.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Debi. You really do–do it all. I feel like I am throwing you under the bus by leaving, though.”
“Putting out dumpster fires is in my job description.”
“What if Helen is right? What if the book sucks?”
“It doesn’t. Helen Highenmighty is just mean-spirited. You can’t let her get in your head. She hasn’t left more than a 2-star review in years. Just take the weekend and reset.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure! I’ll help you pack up as soon as you finish eating. I’ve already emailed the reservation info and directions to your phone.”
CHAPTER TWO
An hour later…
Snow sat in her Land Rover Defender, packed and heading out. She wanted to top off her gas tank just in case, so she pulled into the GotGas fueling station and mini-mart next to the Books and Baubles bookstore. Snow pulled her baseball cap down over her hair and slipped on her sunglasses to avoid recognition, filled her car, and went inside to grab some travel snacks and coffee. Her friend Rumor was working the counter, and she offered Snow a small, sad smile.
“Hey, Girl,” her greeting was less cheery than normal as she bagged the pile of snacks dumped on the counter, and Snow knew she’d read the review. “Looks like you’re getting ready for a road trip.”
Snow glanced over her shoulder for anyone who might be listening, but the only other customer was a grumpy old lady sitting at a window table reading a book. “Yeah, off to a writing retreat for a few days,” she imparted to Rumor in a hushed tone, not really wanting the grumpy reader to know her business.
“That’s great!! Get right back at it. That’s the spirit,” Rumor encouraged.
“Yeah, I’ll see you when I get back.”
Snow paid her bill and, sack in hand, returned to her Defender, cued up her current work-in-progress playlist, and headed for the address Debi had sent to her phone, happy to have made her exit from the city unseen.
Or so she thought.
Back inside the GotGas, her conversation had, in fact, been overheard.
“Rumor, was that someone famous?” the grumpy lady asked.
“Well, yes, Ms. Helen, that was my friend Snow Write. She’s a famous author.” Rumor gushed to the lonely old lady who was a frequent visitor to the market. She never knew the lady’s last name—the market manager had simply introduced her as Ms. Helen when Rumor started working there years ago, and that was that.
