The manuscript arrived in a banker’s box because Declan Frye did not trust e-mail. Nora carried it up two flights to her apartment on North Street, set it on the kitchen table and looked at it for a while. Nine hundred and twelve pages. The press wanted four hundred by the end of the month.
She made coffee, uncapped a red pen and read the first page. It was good. It was, if she was honest, very good, the kind of sentence that made her sit back in her chair. It was also followed by a nine-page description of a barn.
This is as far as the free sample goes. The rest of Second Draft is waiting for you.
See prices