August 16, Friday

THE TURNOUT for the booksigning exceeded my wildest expectations. The bookstore was fairly bursting at the seams with readers, all of whom seemed excited to meet me, and some who'd come from as far away as Florida to meet me.

When had I become so popular?

Or rather, my series.

When I'd sold my first Regency romance novel to Bruce, he'd made it clear it was unusual in a market where historical romances had fallen out of favor in wake of #MeToo and other movements. Women, he said, weren't happy to be reminded of how confining and discriminatory history had been to them. Writing about a period in which a woman's livelihood depended on how rich of a man she could ensnare did seem to be wildly out of step with the times.

He was wrong.

Sales of my books had slowly snowballed until I was pulling down really decent advances and royalties. If my new book, the last book on my contract, performed to expectations, I might possibly be elevated to the bestseller lists that my mother had dominated. If it didn't, I might be working as my mother's assistant again.

Wayne Blakemore introduced me with bouncing enthusiasm and announced I'd be reading a passage from my new book. The applause cinched the knot in my stomach tighter as I walked up to the podium Wayne had set up for the occasion. I carried my notebook, with a passage marked that was provocative while being safe for public consumption.

I opened my notebook and cleared my throat.

When Lady Kate Hilliard first noticed the man, he was dressed in stained breeches and had removed his shirt in deference to the searing sun. He was building a stacked rock wall around the fountain in the middle of the park, situating each stone so they locked into place. She couldn't pull her gaze from his bare chest and powerful arms, slick with perspiration. Inadvertently, moisture dotted her upper lip and her tongue slipped out to whisk it away at the same moment his gaze locked onto hers. Something wildly inappropriate flashed through his eyes, something animalistic that made her breathing even more shallow in the confining corset.

"Look away," Aunt Annette said into her ear. "It's not ladylike to gawk at the help."

Kate jerked away her gaze, then straightened. "I was simply admiring the… craftsmanship."

"Yes, well, scrutiny only leads to trouble. Perfect the art of skimming, my dear."

"Yes, Auntie."

Her aunt walked ahead, and Kate chanced a glance back at the hulking man, who was still looking at her, but this time with amusement.

She frowned, picked up her skirts, and hurried away.

I closed my notebook. "What Kate doesn't know is she'll see the man again at a coming-out ball for her younger sister in only a few days, and he'll be dressed quite differently—as a Duke."

The audience laughed, then applauded. Someone called out to ask when the book would be released.

"Soon," I promised. "I'm making good progress." My gaze went around the room and I spotted Sawyer standing in the back, looking amused.

My cheeks flamed—I hadn't dreamed he'd be there.

"What do you say," the clerk Dora asked, "to people who've read all the headlines lately?"

The room went deadly quiet, and everyone looked at me with bated breath.

My smile froze. My skin tingled. My heart raced. "I'd say their time would be better spent reading a good book."

The audience laughed and the good mood was restored.

Wayne organized a line for the booksigning. I sat at a table and signed books and chatted with readers for over an hour. I kept looking for Sawyer, but apparently he'd left.

Which was fine. It kept me from having to explain myself.