Ruth Schmeckpeper
Ellie Jenkins checked her reflection in the coffee shop window before entering. Once inside, she surveyed the tables. Good. He wasn’t here yet. She needed a few minutes to compose herself.
Her friend Danielle waved her over to the counter. “You look lovely and professional. How could he say no?”
“I was worthless at work today, but I’ve practiced my pitch several times. I hope this is my night.”
Danielle pointed to the table in the back. “I reserved it for you. You’re sure he’s coming?”
“He confirmed. Said he was looking forward to meeting me. My boss nearly shoved me out the door tonight. ‘Whatever you do, Jenkins, get him to sign that contract.’ No pressure, right?” She fluffed her hair a little.
Signing John Samuel Peterson was a game-changer. Having him join our publishing house would move us to the big leagues. His last book had sold millions of copies and was published in fourteen languages.
Danielle’s brow furrowed. “What if he refuses?”
Ellie waved it off. “He promised to bring his proposal. I’m hoping it means he’s ready to commit to us, so we can swoop in and support his next ventures.”
“Tell me again. How did you find him?
Ellie couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ve been following him on social media for two years and commenting on almost every post. I’ve invited him to meet with me several times, but he’s turned me down until last week when he said he’d be in town.”
“And Jack? Isn’t he a little jealous?”
“Adorably so. He even begged me to introduce him if he dropped by tonight. Of course, I told him this meeting is strictly professional, but after I get to know John Samuel Peterson, maybe Jack can have his fanboy moment.”
Ellie’s heart fluttered with anticipation. “I’d better take my seat. Be sure to bring him back.”
Danielle’s eyes sparkled. “Deal. Promise you’ll tell me every detail.”
Ellie slipped into the back alcove—private, cozy, glowing with destiny. She found her spot and set up her laptop, a perfect stage for brilliance.
Moments later, she heard Danielle approaching, her voice pitched higher than usual. Was she enamored by the famous author?
Ellie leaned forward, smile blazing, then melting into a frown. “Jack? What are you doing here? I told you to wait until after I land John Samuel Peterson.”
Jack bowed and held out a bouquet. “These are for you.”
“You’re so sweet.” Oh dear. How would she explain roses to John Samuel Peterson? “Now, please go. I want to be ready for him.”
“You don’t understand.” Jack shrugged. “I brought my proposal.”
Her brow pinched. “Your what?”
“My proposal. I thought you might like to read it.”
Ellie groaned inwardly. Jack was a contributing editor for the Daily Gazette and dabbled in freelance articles, but tonight he was in her way. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’ve really looked forward to this meeting tonight—”
“As have I.” Jack took the chair beside her.
Why was he so stubborn? Ellie glanced at Danielle. Her friend’s eyes widened as she shook her head and abandoned ship.
“Jack—”
“I understand that I’m confusing you. Check your email. I sent my proposal a few minutes ago.”
Resigned, she pulled up her inbox. There, at the top of the list, was an email from John Samuel Peterson. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he still coming?
She clicked to open the document and read, Please find my proposal attached. I am eager to discuss this project with you. She blew out a breath of relief. At least he was still coming.
Jack smiled at her, expectantly.
She scanned the other emails but saw none from Jack. “I’m sorry, it hasn’t shown up yet.” Flustered, she still couldn’t get him to move on before her potential client arrived.
Jack rose and leaned over her shoulder, the warm scent of his woodsy cologne teasing her senses. He pointed to the one from John Samuel Peterson. “You’ve got it. Right here.”
She blinked. “Jack, that’s from—”
“Me.” His grin was sheepish. “John Samuel Peterson.”
Ellie’s jaw dropped. Realization tickled down her spine. “Jack . . . John . . . Is your middle name Samuel?”
He nodded.
“You’re the bestselling author whose work I’ve been obsessed over for two years?”
“Guilty.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jack’s eyes softened. “Because I wanted you to like me, not my sales numbers. And honestly? Your feedback was more helpful because you didn’t know. Which brings me to my real proposal, where I’ll demonstrate I can show, not tell.”
On the tile floor of the coffee shop, he bent to one knee. He pulled a small black velvet box out of his jacket pocket and opened it to reveal a timeless stone, radiant and steady, promising forever in every gleam. “Ellie Mae Jenkins, will you marry me?”
Her hands trembled. Jack’s tender, hope-filled gaze caught hers and held it. He was the man she longed to spend the rest of her life with—famous author or not. Reaching out to take his hand, she curled her fingers around his. “Yes. Not because you’re a famous author, but because you’re the man I love.”
Jack rose, gathered her close, and whispered, “I can’t wait to write the chapters of our life together.”
She leaned against him, breathless. “The best story I’ll ever live.” Her smile softened into his kiss, the beginning of their forever.
In her newsletter, Ruth shares glimpses of her writing life, favorite book finds, and a sprinkle of encouragement for the road. When she’s not crafting heartfelt stories, she’s biking with her husband, baking bread, or making sweet memories with her grandkids.
There’s always a novel nearby—because really, who can stop at just one?
Connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, or on her website.
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