And it was good, he was sure it was. Rough, but good. He was confident but not arrogant; every writer needed an editor. He would make as clean a copy ...s possible, and he knew someone would go at it with scissors, if not shears, but damn it--he'd make them work to cut anything. Emma was infiltrating the novel. He couldn't help it. He shook his head and smiled at himself. She wasn't just finding her way into the novel, but into his life, into him. Some days it was torture to tear himself away to. “Ms. Clark, you can come in now.” Peters said. Quickly throwing everything into my bag, I stood up and entered the office. The first thing I noticed was Mr. Patterson’s scowl as I walked in. His fingers were lightly drumming on the oak desk as I took a seat on the light blue couch. “Morgan, this is the third time I’ve seen you in four weeks,” he said irritably as he stood up. He opened the blinds allowing the sunlight to come in, blinding me slightly as it did. Whilst he stood there, watching. More

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