Sunny woke up with the sun that morning. Kiska was sitting heavily on her chest, and the little golden rays shone delicately through her fur, muting the usual harshness of the sunrise. It was a Sunday, and the store didn't open up for another two hours.
She walked into the kitchen, dragging her feet across the tiles. Kiska hopped out from behind each corner, striking at Sunny's socks and then disappearing again.
Sunny put the kettle on to boil, as well as a pot of water.
Meow.
"The store isn't open yet," Sunny said groggily.
Meow.
Kiska rubbed up against Sunny's legs and meowed louder.
"No milk, you'll get a tummy ache," she scolded.
When the water was hot, Sunny put a few eggs in the pot to boil and poured herself a cup of tea. She picked up her mug and the kitty, and went to sit on the couch. She clicked on the tv and opened her computer. Two new emails.
From: daphnemclaren97@aol.com
To: sunshinewrites@gmail.com
Hey Sunny baby,
Your father and I miss you very much! We need to know what to get you for your birthday. Are you still writing? Can I read? The dog has fleas again. Call me! -Your Mommy
Sunny paused for a moment and thought.
From: sunshinewrites@gmail.com
To: daphnemclaren97@aol.com
More socks.
Kiska was still whining. She hopped up on top of the boxy tv and shoved a pile of magazines onto the floor.
"Brat," Sunny muttered.
Meeeeeooooow.
"One more hour, be patient."
The other email was from Sunny's publisher.
From: rickhartfeld@themillpublishing.com
To: sunshinewrites@gmail.com
Sunshine,The people at The Mill are eager for the sequel. Please send in what you have so far. Your last book sold extremely well, and we recommend striking while the iron is hot and you're still on the list of best sellers. -Rick Hartfeld
Sunny sighed and pulled a hand over her face. She hadn't written anything since Finding Love, and hadn't written anything she liked since before then. She opened the blank document she had had saved since last December and watched the cursor blink.
Crash.
"Oh, Kiska!" Sunny growled.
The cat had pushed her mug off of the side table and spilled her tea all over the carpet. Sunny stomped into the kitchen and tore through the cabinet.
YOU ARE READING
Defining Love
RomanceSunshine McLaren, being a top selling romance author at the age of 19, would be assumed to be an expert on love. But after hurricanes August, Adam, and Steve, she has decided her only true loves are cats, Netflix, and chocolate; in that order. Aft...
