[Insert 'In Charge' Pun Here]

We’re dipping back into our stash of branded content romance novels for today’s product. On the docket, The Power Of Love, by Connie Orconntie. Please enjoy the following excerpts:

On the plus side for Brent Taylor, seeing Stacia Henderson there–sitting on the floor, huddled in the corner of the overcrowded terminal–meant she wouldn’t have the upper hand. Even so, her mere presence made his blood boil.

Brent was traveling to New York, where he’d present his architecture firm’s plans and bid to a major client. If it went through, it could be a real career maker for him. Stacia, an architect at a rival firm, would be presenting a bid of her own, Brent assumed, making her the only thing standing between him and the big project that might finally inspire some joy in his work.

Well, not the only thing. There was also the issue of the computer glitch that had grounded just about all commercial flights across the country.

Before he could duck away, Stacia caught his eye and waved. Sheepishly, Brent made his way over. Truth be told, there wasn’t anywhere else to sit.

“Hey,” Stacia said. Brent sensed something in her voice, a sadness, though he imagined it was only her disappointment at seeing him.

“Hey,” he replied, sitting down.

Stacia looked at him, as if urging him to say something. To see if he’d spill any information about his presentation, he imagined. Brent acted like he didn’t notice and took out his phone, where he received some distressing news: his battery was low. Assuming his flight got off the ground at all, he’d need his phone for the notes to make his presentation. Desperately, he looked around. All the outlets he could see were occupied, including two just to the left of him. An old man in a tattered coat sat charging a pair of identical flip phones while reading a paperback mystery.

“Excuse me,” Brent said to him, “do you mind if I take one of these outlets?”

“No can do, son,” the old man said, without looking up.

“Here,” Stacia said, and to Brent’s surprise, she took out a JOYFAR 30,000mAh Power Bank.

“But what if you need it?” Brent said skeptically.

Stacia smiled. “It’s okay. It has two built-in cables.”

Brent was thankful to Stacia, though he still tried to keep his guard up. Her JOYFAR power bank charged his lightning-cabled iPhone at the same time as her USB-C Samsung, such was its versatility. It could even, she told him, work with Google and Xiaomi products. At one point, Stacia charged her tablet and a pair of earbuds, using the USB-C and USB-A output ports respectively.

They seemed to have gotten past small talk and settled into silence when, out of the blue, Stacia pointed to the JOYFAR’s easy-to-read display, which clearly enumerated how charged the power bank was, and said, “What would yours be at? I mean, if you had a giant screen on you, one that told the world how charged you were, what would it say?”

“Forty percent?” Brent offered. “And plunging with each passing second of this delay.”

“Same,” Stacia said, laughing warmly. “Though once I do what I’m on my way to do, I’m sure it’ll shoot back up.”

Brent bristled at this arrogance, her obvious assumption that she would win the bid with ease. He looked down at his phone, trying to hide his anger.

“And if you could do anything to get it back to 100,” Stacia asked now, “anything but sleep, what would you do?”

“Play the mandolin.”

Brent tensed at his own words. The answer had occurred to him so naturally, he had forgotten who he was talking to. He waited for Stacia to laugh again, though without warmth this time. She would scoff, he thought, file this away to use against him. Brent Taylor, architect on the rise, was a bluegrass musician? She’d have her whole firm rolling on the floor when she got back.

But, to his surprise, Stacia didn’t snicker. “You’re a musician?”

“Was a musician,” Brent said. “I played in a few quartets in high school and college. One even got some attention from a record label.”

“But you stopped,” Stacia ventured. “Why?”

“Well, my father wanted me to be an architect,” Brent said, “like he was. And you know how it is when your father wants you to do something.”

Stacia drew inward at this. “I do, yes.”

“What kind of work does your father do?” Brent stammered, feeling guilty for having upset her in some way.

“Nothing anymore,” Stacia said, without meeting his eyes. “But he’s trying to travel. Revisit his old haunts.”

“That sounds nice,” Brent said.

“It will be,” Stacia said.

On her tablet, fully charged thanks to the JOYFAR’s impressive 30,000mAh capacity, Stacia showed Brent an article. The computer glitch that had grounded flights was no closer to being fixed. In fact, officials were saying the issue ran deeper than they realized.

Brent let out a sarcastic laugh. “Well, I guess it’ll be easier for both of us knowing neither can get the bid now.”

“What?” Stacia looked at him, confused.

“Oh, don’t think I don’t know,” Brent said. “Flying to New York? On today of all days? Your firm is going for the same project as mine, Stacia. And we’re both going to miss out on making our presentations.”

“Brent,” Stacia said. “I’ve been on leave from the firm to take care of my father. He passed away last week, and I’m going to New York to scatter his ashes from the Staten Island Ferry. He used to commute into the city every day on it, and that’s where he met my mother. It’s what he said he wanted.”

“So that’s why you grew so sad earlier, when I spoke of doing the things our fathers ask us.”

Stacia nodded and then laid her hand on his. “But Brent, I need to say something else: sometimes it’s important to do things for our fathers, and sometimes it’s important to do things for ourselves.”

Brent opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the old man with two phones plugged in leaned towards him. “I couldn’t help but overhear you two. I must come clean. I am not the disheveled traveler I appear. I am an extremely wealthy entrepreneur. Or I was. Now, in my retirement, this is my hobby. I buy a ticket every day, come into this terminal, and look for gestures of true kindness and love. When I see some, I offer those who make them a free flight on my private jet. And I would like to offer that flight to you two now.”

“You could make it for your presentation!” Stacia exclaimed.

“And you could take your ferry ride!” Brent exclaimed.

“And maybe afterwards,” Stacia said, “we could meet up at a music shop, and you could play me a few songs.”

“I’d love that,” Brent said.

“Come along, we can skirt this whole issue,” the old man said, standing. “And, by the way, you can put that handy thing away. There are charging ports aplenty on the Lear Jet!”

As Stacia packed the power bank back into her bag, Brent considered the brand name one more time. JOYFAR? he thought. No. JOYNEAR. JOYNEARER than ever before.