Here's the pitch:

She Taught Me Everything
When 26-year-old Nicola Jones gets that phone call in the middle of the night––the one she's been dreading her whole life––she doesn't stop to ask questions.  

What else does she need to know? Her charismatic older sister Viv has been in a car crash.

​She packs a bag and races to her sister's hospital bedside.
Until then, she would have said she and Viv were as close as––well, as close as sisters. Once in Nashville, however, Nicola discovers that Viv has been concealing one terrible secret after another. 

With her own life on hold as she waits for Viv to wake, Nicola must delve into the mystery of their shared past and decide what their future will be.
 
She Taught Me Everything is a story about sisters and secrets, and about the choices we make that shape a family. 

But who cares about the weather outside? I have a heavily notated Word document to peruse. 

I hired an editor. Oh, believe me, I know the irony. Having made a living editing the idea that it's taken years for me to pay someone for this service? Oy.

I've thought idly about what metaphor might illustrate my giddy joy at having someone read the novel so closely, with such candor and insight.

Is it like giving yourself over to a really good massage? One that might hurt a little, but that will leave you better off?  Or is it like having the undivided attention of a professor you really admire when that professor is in a generous mood to discuss you and your marvelous ideas?

Erm, I'm going to go with massage. Some strong-fingered person who's really good and can find pockets of soreness that need to be worked away.

Anyhow, I'm less than a third of the way through her suggested edits. I don't know if it's relief at having direction or sheer vanity at getting someone's lavish attention, but I'm bubbling with happiness.

Granted, I may indeed need an actual massage at the end of these long days at my computer screen, but perhaps that too is part of the new publishing world.