Chapter Twenty-SixThe computer cursor blinked back at Ellie like a ticking clock, each flash a reminder that she hadn't written a salvageable word for the last thirty minutes. She'd tried, fits and starts, but it was all junk, and she'd erased it in chunks.
She heaved a sigh, flipping the laptop closed. Why bother? In a few days, no one was going to be able to read anything by Ellie Chambers without snorting in laughter. Max had confirmed it this morning. The deadly book was dropping tomorrow, four weeks to the day that Margo had promised them in Chicago. She had one more day of being Ellie Chambers, moderately successful thriller author, until she turned into Chambers and Price, the what-were-they-thinking-by-writing-that? butt of jokes everywhere.
Despite her bargain with Margo, she'd
