Page 12 of All For You

“Will it break the chain, though?” Why was I hoping to find fault in her logic? This was Charlie; she was seldom wrong.

“This book is going to be pushed back, and another book will capture their marketing budget. I won’t mentionyou know who.”

Olivia Darling. The hot, up-and-coming Regency author who was fast and prolific.

“And you willnotmake the deadline for London HeartCon. Which means, after all their patience, your readers will be devastated not to see and talk to you at the signings…and they may move on to someone else.”

She was right. My readers would quite rightly not be understanding about my missing the UK’s biggest romance writers’ and readers’ conference. Going without a new book released and facing all their questions would no doubt disrupt my ability to draft a novel.Notgoing would signal I’d forgotten them. The thought of how I would lose their faith made my stomach twist in slow, anxious knots.

“Now. For this weekend, let’s start with something concrete—this renewed interest in your backlist. Keep building the buzz for the next two days.”

But something else worried me. “I’m worried this show is making me seem silly, which will undermine my career anyway.”

We’d talked about this a lot. Romance was already seen as somewhat frivolous, and authors had that against us, as well as objectification for writing sex scenes.

“Steer clear of that man, then. Don’t let yourself get drawn into the drama.”

I breathed in, searching for an argument to counter with. I couldn’t. “I will only speak to that man this weekend to be polite. After this weekend, I never, ever want anything to do with him.”

“Fair enough. It’s only two days. What a waste,” she said. “That guy is so hot—and this is coming from someone who’s usually immune.”

I snorted.

“He’s the kind of mean that is hot in a book but dreadful in real life,” she said. “Hey, that might be an idea. Maybe your heroine finds out he’s actually shy, even socially awkward, and kind of wonderful.”

“Maybe. In a book. Believe me, this guy is none of those things.”

She hummed with a smile in her voice. “People surprise you.”

No wonder she was smug. My best friend had found her happily ever after…in my sister Mary, who used to be terribly serious and studious but had considerably lightened up since they’d gotten together.

We said goodnight, and I plugged my phone into the wall with a jab where I might have imagined it connecting with that man’s head.

“Yay, you’re staying,” Jane said. “I do think you’ll find out he’s a good guy after all, despite that scowling and grunting.”

“Not holding my breath,” I said. Now I was the grumpy one, and I hated he brought that out in me.

I pulled up my covers and turned to my sister, lying in her own single bed, and smiled. She reached across the space between us. I joined hands with her, and we swung them back and forth and giggled about how clearly light-headed she was feeling over meeting Wills.

It was like when we were little and we’d shared a bedroom. I felt a tug of love toward her so fierce tears pricked behind my eyes. She was kind and good and deserved a happy and peaceful life. She’d been through hell with that awful boyfriend of hers and a modeling career Mum had pushed her into only because she was beautiful. The posing and go-sees and constant scrutinyand eventually public recognition had been complete anathema to her quiet, private nature.

But she’d returned home, finished her teacher training, and was settled into her first job at a primary school, which she loved. And tonight, she might have found her soul mate. A flood of happiness poured over me. Yes, Wills lived and worked in London, and she lived and worked in the Cotswolds two hours away, but that distance wouldn’t stand in their way if they truly fell in love.

At least this weekend might produce one love match. Two, counting the snogging couple.

CHAPTER 7

Darcy

After my, er,encounterwith Lizzy, I waited a decent amount of time for her to get into her room then headed up for my room, my shoulders tight. Why should I feel badly about asking if her mother got off okay? Or whether Lizzy was headed up to read a romance book? Polite, civil questions. She was impossible. She took everything the wrong way, and why had I even talked to her on the stairs? Why did it bother me she didn’t like me? Who cared?

I went to push open my bedroom door. A rustle sounded from the room.

Someone was in there. Or something…with a slobbery munch. My body stiffened in confusion, then concern, ready to attack. Sucking in a breath, I shoved open the door.

A brown-and-white goat was hooves-up on the windowsill, chewing on my curtains. Meanwhile, Max was lying in his donut bed, blinking, bemused.

“Not much of a guard dog, are you?” I asked Max. “How did a bloody goat get in here?” I sniffed the air and grimaced. “Hello, you very,verysmelly creature. I think it might be outside time for you now.”