35
Alex
Superfluous was really the only word that described me lately. The girls didn’t want me involved in Hannah’s bedroom makeover, and I couldn’t provide any sage guidance for slumber party preparation. Apparently, the only thing I was needed for was to pay the bill, but I wouldn’t even be able to do that soon, if the words didn’t resume flowing from my fingertips.
My backlist of books gave us a hefty income stream, but it dwindled each month that I didn’t have something new to offer my fans. If I didn’t find a way to make my pen name relevant in the publishing world again, my royalties would continue to suffer.
Worrying about it only made my writer’s block more severe, so I tried to refocus my attention. I kept getting distracted by thinking about how empty and lonely the house wo
