Page 290 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 2

Thank you for your query. We greatly appreciate your submission and have given it our careful consideration. Unfortunately, we do not feel that your project is the right fit for our agency. Please keep in mind that this is a very subjective business. Thanks for thinking of our agency and we wish you the best with your writing career.

Sincerely,

Mallory Jenson

Agent/Submissions Coordinator

Clark Henshaw Literary Group

I slowly exhaled.Subjective business.It was only biased in the sense that every agency in the city agreed that my writing sucked. The problem was that after this many rejections, I was starting to believe them. At first it was easy to push the rejection aside. Now though? Maybe I didn't have what it took. Maybe my manuscript really was as crappy as everyone said. I stuffed the paper back in the envelope. Or maybe they weren't reading it at all. Careful consideration probably meant straight in the trashcan. Well, two could play that game. I tore the rejection letter in half and tossed it into the trash.

"I know," I said and looked down at my stomach. "Putting Penny Hunter on the submission form is a foot in the door. But I needto do this on my own. Now please stop agreeing with your father about everything. I'm the one carrying you around for months." My words earned me another sharp kick in the ribs.

Thirteen rejection letters.I sat down on a stool in the kitchen and let my face sink into my hands. I had submitted my query to at least 50 agencies and most of them hadn't even bothered responding. I told James I was going to write instead of work, but all I had to show for it was a manuscript that I had reworked dozens of times because no one liked the story.Our story.Maybe I was the one being too subjective. Maybe I couldn't see that it wasn't a story worth telling because I saw it with rose-colored glasses. I lived it. James was everything to me. And I was a naive, annoying, indecisive girl that no one wanted to read about. Fiction had never been so real. And in this case, maybe fiction would have been better. I should have just written a story that someone actually wanted to read instead of my idealized notion of what my life was.

I grabbed the apple that had been taunting me ever since I got home and bit into it.I know it's not a banana, but you can't just eat bananas and water ice all day. You have to be a grown-up.For some reason I burst into tears. Because I wasn't talking to the baby growing in my stomach. I was talking to myself. I was living off my husband. When had I become a Stepford Wife? I was, in every sense of the word, useless.

Oh my God, I'm losing my mind.This baby was seriously making it impossible to stay sane. And every time I even thought such a thing, he kicked me so hard. He was feisty. And stubborn. And just like his father. I smiled. James would probably say that those characteristics were just like me. I placed my hand on mystomach and waited for the kick. But this time it didn't come. "Thank you for being on my side," I said into the empty kitchen.

I knew I wasn't useless. But just once I wanted to show everyone that I wasn't just some trophy wife. It wasn't like I didn't see the tabloids. I knew what people said about me. They talked about my dress at this event and my necklace at that. But damn it, I had a brain. I was more than my smile and my clothes. I could pull my own weight. No, not enough to afford a place like this. A small salary coming in off my books, though? That would make me feel so much better. Wife and mother were the two best titles. They were music to my ears. But adding author at the end of it would just make it a tad sweeter.

I took another bite of the apple. "And there's the kick. You are going to be such a handful, baby boy."

The sound of the front door opening made me jump. I quickly wiped away my tears. Bee was right, I needed to stop letting my pregnancy hormones win. An agent would call any day now. And even if one didn't, I was happy. I loved my life. I loved our story even if no one else did. Even if no one else would ever read about it. Honestly, maybe that was better. It was our story, not anyone else's. No one knowing kept it more pure somehow.

"Hey, beautiful." James kissed my temple and ran his hand along my stomach. "How are my girls today?"

I smiled up at him. "We're good, but you know perfectly well that it's your son brewing in there."

"I beg to differ. This baby is every bit you." Suddenly the smile was gone from his face as he lightly touched my chin. "What'swrong?" He ran the pad of his thumb beneath my eye even though I knew my tears were gone.

I swallowed hard. A lie was on the tip of my tongue and I wasn't even sure where it had come from. The word nothing just wanted to fall out of me. The thought of the lie left a sour taste in my mouth. That was the one thing we never did. Not now. Not after everything we'd been through. "I got another rejection letter in the mail." I bit the inside of my lip, feeling every bit the failure.

He placed a soft kiss against my forehead. "Those agencies are insane. They have no idea what they're missing out on."

I laughed. "I don't know about that. They're all saying the same thing. Which means I'm the one that's insane for thinking I had a chance."

"You know, you could let me read it. Maybe I could help." He leaned against the counter as he stared at me.

I let my eyes wander down to his lips. For some reason I was finding it hard to concentrate on his words. Probably because we were rarely alone. And by some stroke of luck it was currently just the two of us. I forced my eyes back up to his. "You can read it. Eventually. The grand plan was to get an agent, get it published, and give you a real hardback copy. I wanted you to read it when I was sure that it was perfect. I wanted to show you that I was worth something more than..." I let my voice trail off. "I just want to prove that I'm worthy of you."

"Oh, Penny." He wrapped his arms around me.

I breathed in his heavenly cologne. Wife. Mother. I didn't need the extra title. This was all I truly wanted. "I could get a thousand rejections and I'd still be happy," I mumbled into his neck.

He kept his arms wrapped around me, and didn't say a word. But his silence was louder than words. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I need to do this one thing on my own," I whispered.

"I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it."

He sighed and took a step back from me. "Honestly, it's probably good to have anonymity. Our life is already in the public eye way more than I'd like it to be. I'm getting used to the idea of you wanting to use a pen name."

"Really?" I placed my hand on my stomach. Both my boys were agreeing with me tonight.

"Really. You took my name in real life. That's what matters to me, Mrs. Penny Hunter. Now, aren't you going to ask me what's in the bag?"