"When Fallon James's brother Ethan is found dead in England, she takes it upon herself to fill in for the misgivings of a lackadaisical police force. Armed with a background in creative writing and plenty of Criminal Minds episodes, she attempts to...
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"No fucking way!" I hear a now slightly tipsy Harlow shout from her part of the suite. Our reservation includes a two-bedroom, full kitchen, living room, and private pool suite. We both have our own bathrooms, and the amenities are endless. As much as I take pride in our version "roughing it" a bit in New York, I can't lie and say that the luxury of the trip isn't a welcome break from our walkup.
"What's wrong!?" I shout back, still waiting for my nails to dry after my surprise mani/pedi spa treatments Harlow got us.
I hear her steps, oddly imitating an unbalanced toddler, come barreling through the living quarters before my door shoots open, revealing a pretty drunken, green-lava mask-covered Harlow in the entryway with only an open laptop in hand.
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"Look!" She says, shuffling over to the doors to the terrace, to join me. Harlow sits at the small table and chairs, joining me, before tossing the computer in front of me. "He's got your book!" She says forcefully.
"Who has what book?" I say, truly confused and still too tired to keep track of her racing thoughts.
"Harry!" She answers matter of factly, as if I should know what she's talking about.
"The Prince of England?"
She rolls her eyes at me before smacking my arm to correct me. "Styles you bitch."
"Ok, well in the scheme of things, Prince Harry at least has children so..."
"Oh shut it with your logic. Harry Styles has your book, look... right here." She says, pointing to a paparazzi photo from yesterday. "The article says he was out with his sister and an 'unknown woman,' God I would hate for that to be the way the world knows me..." she says in one breath before continuing. "Anyways, he stopped at a bookstore and was seen with some Marakami - or something like that, and your novel!"
"My children's novel" I emphasize, what in the world would he be doing with that?
I grab the laptop and position it more directly in front of me to see what she's seeing and... of course, she's right. It's there in his hands; captured at odd angles of course... there are a series of shots, clearly taken seconds apart, and all of them prominently feature my book. I spot the small blurbs under the carousel of photos and read:
![The Lighthouse - [H.S.]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/360138593-64-k874385.jpg)