So this happened yesterday, while I was writing I CHOOSE YOU, the third (and what is supposed to be the FINAL) book in the Perfect Dish series. (Yes, it started out as the Perfect Dish Duo. Now it’s a trilogy. But hold onto your hats. . .)
If you read JUST DESSERTS, you might vaguely remember Vincent, Ava’s brother. He’s not the one who got married in that book; he’s the brother who was single. Since I CHOOSE YOU is written from Ava and Liam’s points of view and is mostly about their wedding, Vincent shows up there, too.
I was just minding my own business. . .writing away, like a good author. . .and in strolled Vincent. Our convo went like this:
Me: Hey, Vincent. (continues typing)
Vincent: So another book about my sister.
Me (glancing at him distractedly): Yes. This is about Ava and Liam’s wedding.
Vincent: Why do they get another book? I thought the last book was theirs.
Me: Well, it was. But then people wanted to read more about them. . .listen, I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’m busy.
Vincent: But if you’re keeping track, Julia got Jesse. Ava got Liam. Even Giff got Jeff. My brother Carl got Angela. What about me?
Me: Yeah, what about you, Vincent?
Vincent: Why’m I still flying solo?
Me: Because, Vincent, you’re a side character. You’re not the main focus. You’re just there because Ava needed another brother to balance things out.
Vincent: But I don’t want to be left out in the cold.
Me (sighing, rolling my eyes and finally turning from the computer screen): Okay, Vincent. You want me to hook you up in this book? Fine. You can meet a bridesmaid or someone and get together with her. There you go.
Vincent (shaking his head): Nope. I want my own book.
Me (throwing up my hands): Vincent! I have no time for another book in this series. Honestly. Do you know how many series I’m juggling? Ongoing ones? Four. Four! And then there’s the non-series books I committed to write next year. Remember the historical romance set in Gettysburg? Does that ring a bell? And the stand-alone New Adult, and the middle grade book, and the big apocalyptic book that the kids’ve been begging me to finally get around to writing for them. . .oh, and the anthology for the King Series people. They’ve been waiting a long time.
Vincent: You can fit me in. I have faith in you.
Me (grumbling): Sure you do. Come back and talk to me in 2018.
Vincent (crossing his arms over his broad chest): Nope. It’s gotta be sooner.
Me: Even if I could fit you in somewhere, I have no idea who’d you end up with. There aren’t any more unattached females in these books.
Vincent (nodding smugly): Yes, there is.
Me: Oh, yeah? Who?
Vincent (leaning closer): I’ll whisper it in your ear. (proceeds to do just that)
Me: Really? Really? Wow, I never thought. . .but what about. . .hmmmm. Hmmmmm. . .
Vincent: Is that a good hmmmm?
Me (as my head hits the keyboard): It means you’re getting your own book, you big doofus. Now go away and leave me alone so I can finish your sister’s book, okay?
Vincent: Sure. But what’s the book going to be called?
Me: I have no idea.
Vincent: It should be something cooking-related since I’m a pastry chef. Hot and Sweet? Rolling Boil? Simmer This?
Me: You’re not very good at picking out titles. Just saying.
Vincent: Hey! I got it. Just Roll With It. Get it? Roll with it? Like a rolling pin?
Me: Hmmm. It’s got potential. I’ll think about it. Now please go away and let me finish this book.
Vincent: Okay, I’m going. But I’ll be back.
Me: I’ll just bet you will be.