Kelly Underwood
It took three days and four trains to realize this was the worst decision I’d ever made.
I, Jack Harper, the world’s biggest romance author—you heard that right—am headed to the middle of nowhere to meet Emma Carson. My editor. The woman I love.
Why hadn’t someone talked me out of it?
I stared out the train’s window and watched the trees fly by, the clack clack clack of the tracks a constant reminder of my current predicament. The zonked-out guy next to me in the basic economy seat smelled like a tuna fish sandwich.
Okay, love is a strong word for someone I’ve technically never met, although Emma and I have spent many late nights talking on Zoom. Most of it professional, but I could feel the sparks melt through the screen.
Could she?
Emma took a chance on a nobody like me, a lackluster screenwriter at the end of my career until she stepped in. She had the brilliant idea of taking my failed military adventure script and turning it into a romance novel.
Me? Romantic?
Not a chance. I’m forty-three and single, a former Army captain, living in a remote cabin outside of Spokane, Washington. But somehow, this spunky, petite Bostonian convinced an anti-social mountain man to turn his epic thriller movie script into some tear-jerker love story.
And it worked.
The name Jack Harper became an overnight success. Meet Me in the Middle hit number one on the New York Times bestseller list and stayed for months. All because a feisty editor discovered my draft and turned it upside down.
Emma had joked on one of our nightly chats about how we should meet in the middle, and I calculated that Maple Creek, South Dakota would be halfway between Boston and Spokane.
“Wafflepalooza,” Emma had said with a laugh. “It’s the town’s celebration of all things waffles. What could be more small-town charming than that?” She was all city girl. The way she scrunched up her face and her dark curls bounced caused my heart to beat double time.
I’ve spent many sleepless nights dreaming about Emma. So, I decided to take a risk.
Halfway through Meet Me in the Middle, I wrote a coded message to Emma, inviting her to . . . well . . . meet me in the middle. At Wafflepalooza.
It’s a love story within a love story. If she decoded the cypher properly, it would give her the day, time, and location.
Bile rose in my throat. What if she didn’t figure out the code? All she had to do was read the first letter of each sentence on the page to spell out the date and meeting spot.
I even mailed her a signed copy with instructions to check page 142.
But what if she missed the meaning? I had to get off this train. What if this was a mistake?
What if she didn’t return my feelings?
This is why people make a plan before they act. It took Emma months to convince me to write a romance. And on a whim, I jumped on a train without confirming if she even got my hidden message?
Who does that?
“Arhh!” My groan woke up the fishmonger, who apologized for snoring.
What was I expecting would happen? Some magical moment where Emma falls into my arms while fireworks sizzle across the sky? Chances were high I’d arrive in Maple Creek only to walk around some crazy festival with a waffle in one hand and a steaming mug of loneliness in the other.
The train whistled. Next stop, Maple Creek.
Will Emma be there, waiting for me at the world’s largest ice cream waffle cone display?
I sucked in a breath and looked out the window.
I had assumed the festival would be busy, but I hadn’t expected a crowd. Wait, were they holding signs? Is this a protest?
Wait. The signs were for me.
“Jack Harper – I’ll meet you in the middle.”
“Jack, I love you.”
“Marry me, Jack.”
What the—
The train chugged to a stop, and a cheer erupted from the multitude.
The crowd chanted my name and waved copies of my book in the air. I guess the secret code wasn’t hard to crack.
Throngs of women, signs, books, and waffles filled my vision. There had to be hundreds of women here. How could I find the one who had stolen my heart?
Passengers filed off the train. I moved to the exit and took three steps to reach the platform. The crowd pressed in. People thrust pens and hardbacks under my nose.
The roar of the crowd made it hard to think. I’d lost that perfect moment with Emma. Even if she were here, I’d never locate her—
“Out of the way,” a voice called, the Boston accent unmistakable. The crowds parted like the Red Sea to let the petite firecracker through.
“Mr. Harper will sign books, but let him get off the train for Pete’s sake. The line starts at the chicken and waffle stand. Now go.”
People scattered to secure prime spots.
“You—you figured it out,” I stammered. She was even more beautiful in person.
She shrugged. “So did half of the women in America.”
Her smile lit my heart on fire.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come. I thought maybe I’d imagined the sparks between us.”
She put a hand on my chest. “Oh, it’s real. Our chemistry could start a fire. Any man who writes swoony romance novels and would take multiple trains halfway across the country to meet me—well, he’s a keeper.”
I extended my hand, and she took it. “Let’s go sign some books.”
Beyond writing, Kelly shares her love of reading through her blog, Best in Suspense. She also served as the 2024 and 2025 president for the Central Florida chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers. When she’s not plotting twists and turns for her next novel, you’ll find her out and about with her therapy dog—a feisty golden retriever named Maizie—bringing joy to everyone from children to senior citizens. She also loves traveling and has recently fallen in love with Ireland and Scotland—maybe you’ll see these settings as the backdrop to one of her future novels.
Connect with Kelly on Facebook, X (Twitter), Instagram, BookBub, Pinterest, Goodreads, or her website.
Spark Flash Fiction 