Chapter 20

Dinner and a Show

W hen I strolled into the banquet hall five minutes before seven, it was in my fabulous, figure-enhancing, black evening dress. Its enticing V-neck, directing the eye to my breasts, was only outshined by the tantalizing slit up my thigh, revealing a leg thinly clad in sheer black hose. I had practiced walking in the heels, so I could glide in with the ease and grace of R.B. Taylor or Selina Fowlerton. As was fashionable, I held a black clutch purse. I'd spent an hour on my hair and makeup to look like the Aspen Wolfe of Mary Jones' dreams. Judging by the expression on Winter's face when she spotted me, I had succeeded.

My heart performed a flip upon seeing her reaction. She dressed up nicely in a formal black pantsuit paired with a bright, splashy blouse that reflected her uniqueness without being too audacious for the occasion. She rolled her fingers around each other while bouncing in place on her toes. I attempted a seductively slow pace as I crossed to meet her.

"You look smashing," I commented.

Winter swallowed and glanced at herself before sweeping me from toe to head with a desirous gaze. "You look amazing," she uttered. "I mean, you always do, but just—wow."

I smirked with the self-satisfaction of a job well done. When I picked out this dress, it was to impress all the glamorous femmes and roguish butches. Now, the only woman I yearned to impress was Winter Bliss.

"Are the others here already?" I didn't want to take my eyes off her to search the hall.

"We saved you a seat over here." In a hesitant movement, Winter nudged an open palm in my direction, offering me a beseeching expression. I happily took her hand and allowed her to guide me to the long table where Tammy, Beth, and Elaine had taken up residence.

We had all enjoyed the afternoon together, first supporting Q.L. and checking out Jules Novik, then taking a swim in the luxurious saltwater pool on the roof, and finally attending the discussion of ice queen popularity. Jules struck me as smart, aloof, and unreadable, which did nothing to ease my suspicions. At least she wasn't trying to steal Winter from me.

Beth and Elaine were both like fish in the water, a joy to watch when I could tear my gaze from Winter's skinny, little body. Too shy to show off her wares in public, she'd kept on her white IRG—which she'd said stood for Innovative Robotics Global—T-shirt over her low-rise two-piece swimsuit. I didn't point out how, as soon as it got wet, everything underneath showed anyway; I just enjoyed it.

R.B. Taylor was joined by a panel of three other romance and romantic blend authors who had penned ice-queen best-sellers. She displayed confident ease at the microphone and had such informative tips and ideas to share. I'll bet she doesn't have to constantly coach herself to stand up straight or remind herself she's a real author instead of a wannabe, I thought. But even with her status, awards, and tremendous following, R.B. was still a down-to-earth decent person. She didn't try to kill us.

I took the chair between Winter and Tammy, who looked quite dashing in a charcoal suit and tartan necktie. A book of hers was a finalist for the Historical category, although she had privately confessed to me she didn't think she had a snowball's chance in hell of beating out Melissa Morrison's World War Two era best-seller about a woman pilot and a nurse.

Suddenly, I felt small in the magnificent hall filled with the biggest names in sapphic literature. A few from Australia and Europe hadn't made it, although many had. The air brimmed with expectation and buzzed with excitement. The women sat in couples, trios, and small groups, leaving few who appeared to be alone. I observed Valery with her fierce bulldog sitting beside an elegant woman their age at the front table reserved for dignitaries. Catherine was positioned at the other end, and I presumed most of the others were Literary Laurels board members or deep-pocketed benefactors. Cary did not look pleased to have to share Valery's attention with the attractive woman on her other side. I counted myself lucky to be the sole object of Winter's focus at the grand banquet.

Tammy had been right; the hotel food was indeed as delicious as any we'd eaten. Although we never made it to the expensive, five-star restaurants like Chemin á la Mer, Bayona, or Emeril's, every morsel I'd put in my mouth had cried, "Bam!" This meal was no exception.

Winter shared interesting things about both her hometown of Beaver Dam and Milwaukee while I spun humorous stories about Gulfport's GeckoFest where we crown the Gecko Queen and how thousands more attend the festival each year than reside in our small, bayside town. Time flew as I delighted in getting to know her better without ignoring Tammy and the rest of our group. Winter and I both were floored to hear how Tammy had competed in bull riding in the Women's Professional Rodeo Association (WPRA) in the 1990s.

"Of course, they wouldn't let us in the Pbr back then, but it was great fun." Her face glowed with the achievements of her youth and young adulthood while I couldn't think of a single accomplishment of mine before Aspen Wolfe's Debut Novelist Award. Sure, I graduated college and taught English to seventh and eighth graders but nothing so daring and adventurous as bull riding. Once, when I was about eight or nine, I'd jumped off the roof of our single-story house, gripping the four corners of a sheet to make a parachute.

And Winter's flown in a space shuttle.

Catherine took the microphone at the podium, and the lights dimmed. Conversations dwindled to a hush as servers in black and white took away the empty dishes. Every nerve in my body shot to attention, and light headedness loomed inside my skull. I perceived Winter intertwine her fingers with mine.

"It'll be alright, no matter what," she promised. "You're a winner in my book."

I found her faith in me earnest and reassuring, allowing my tension to ease slightly. Meeting her gaze, I whispered, "I appreciate you so much." I did. Winning awards wasn't the be-all and end-all; book sales were far more important to me as I struggled to make financial ends meet. However, awards meant recognition, and recognition led to more book sales. Plus, it just felt incredible to win. So did the feelings Winter evoked in me. They were almost enough to convince me I truly was Aspen Wolfe.

Behind Catherine, images flashed onto the big screen in a pre-produced program with a mix of video and still slides, for which she gripped the control button. "We have so much to celebrate tonight. From 2022 to 2023, LGBTQ literature has recorded a 40% sales increase, the largest of any genre on the market. In a sales boom from May 2016 to May 2021, sales of LGBTQ+ romance grew by a jaw-dropping 740%." Gasps and aahs ensued, followed by resounding applause. I knew more readers were open to our books, but I had no idea the surge was so staggering.

"When I was a questioning teen," Catherine continued, "books about women loving women were practically nonexistent. Today, the five biggest publishers regularly release same-sex love stories. And while that thrills me to the core, tonight we recognize our authors who don't work for Penguin Random House. We celebrate our sapphic, lesbian, and LGBTQ+ presses, who have worked tirelessly to promote our genre. We recognize our independently published authors who have taken on the burden of doing everything for themselves and still manage to create quality, captivating novels and novellas to delight us, even if they leave us in tears at the end.

"Please take a moment to enjoy this presentation our audio-visual team has assembled." Catherine stepped back, and a three-minute collage of snippets from the conference played to fun background music. Interspersed was a shot of me presenting my masterclass and one of Tammy and Beth performing at karaoke. Somehow, Winter and I had both leaned closer to one another until our shoulders rested together. Smiles, laughs, and pointing fingers spread across the room as folks watched and made quiet comments with their friends. Applause filled the hall at the conclusion.

"And now, to present the awards, I am honored to introduce you to one of our valued event organizers," Catherine announced. "Her illustrious career has always centered around literature—as a librarian, a bookstore owner, activist, beta reader, editor, and a past judge in Literary Laurels competitions." While she rattled off more accolades, my awareness was lured away by the fruity scent of Winter's shampoo. "Erin McGuire!" I clapped with everyone else.

The program followed a particular order, with Romance—which had been subdivided into several awards—being reserved for last. I listened politely to the other categories, perking up with genuine interest at historical fiction. Tammy was right; Melissa Morrison's novel took first place. I levied my attention from Winter to Elaine when the Young Adult category was called. Unfortunately, Elaine's book didn't place in the top three. She smiled like a champ and clapped for the winners. I vaguely recall Jules Novik being named second place in Science Fiction.

Then Erin made a deviation from the printed program.

"Tonight, we have a new award," she announced. A slide came up with the title and colorful background. "The Jae Author Mentor Award. This recognition is far overdue. Within our community, many seasoned authors have stepped up to assist and mentor those just getting started. Their efforts contribute immensely to the success of our growing genre. They help fledgling writers learn the ropes and excel in doing something they love. Therefore, this year, we are giving an award named for an author who has contributed more to her fellow sapphic writers and our craft than I have time to enumerate, one whom we all love and appreciate. Although she couldn't be with us tonight, I'm authorized to pass on her blessing to all present. So, with no further ado, I present this year's winner, the first recipient of the illustrious Jae Author Mentor Award, Ms. Tammy Fairfield."

My heart leaped in my chest, thrilled that Tammy—who hadn't mentored just me and Winter but dozens more before and alongside us—was being recognized. She sat stunned for a moment, like a deer in headlights, before Beth's insistent poking rousted her from her chair. Everyone in the room cheered and clapped, albeit some less vigorously than others.

She lumbered up to the podium and was handed the trophy and an envelope I assumed contained a check. She stood there blushing at the attention until the ovation subsided. "Thank you. I'd like to thank the Literary Laurels Society first for conceiving the idea to create this award and secondly for being foolish enough to give it to me." I laughed both at her comment and because it brought me such joy to see her win.

"But I can't claim it for myself alone. For twenty-two years, I've had the most amazing woman in the world at my side. I'd be nowhere without my wife, Beth. So, honey." With a glow of appreciation, Tammy raised the trophy over her head and declared, "This is for you!"

I clapped with every other person in the room, then pushed back my chair to stand. Winter followed, then Elaine, the rest of our table, and soon everyone other than the dignitaries at the head table were on their feet cheering. When Catherine stood, the others followed, and it was unanimous. I could tell by bodyguard Cary's expression she wasn't overjoyed. She probably thought it should have gone to her heartthrob, Valery. Winter wiped a tear from her eye. It was a special moment indeed.

With Tammy back in her seat—and tears streaming down her face—Erin moved on to the Romance categories: Erotic Romance, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance, and Romantic Thriller.

My stomach lurched into my throat with a fresh onset of nerves, and, once again, Winter laced her fingers through mine and beamed at me admiringly. I held my breath with the confidence of knowing, if I passed out, Winter would be here to revive me.

"For Erotic Romance, in third place …" Erin called a name and book title I'd only seen in the list of finalists. I didn't have time to read everything, and I didn't know many of the authors. New ones sprang up overnight, it seemed. "In second place for Shady Seductions, Aspen Wolfe."

So close , I thought, but was still happy with a second.

Winter squeezed my hand and beamed at me. "Congratulations!" she cheered in an intimate hush. "That's wonderful."

"And the Laurel goes to Willa Stephenson for Love's Raw Conquest. "

I clapped for Willa, knowing her reputation, and we had done several cross-promotions, although I hadn't met her in person before this weekend.

I could relax during Romantic Comedy, but my nerves were back for Contemporary Romance. Through our joined hands, I detected Winter's pulse and sensed she was as tense with anticipation as I was. Maybe tonight, I thought. OK, so she's a virgin, but she's not a child. I know she's attracted to me, that she likes me. I like her too, and it's been so long. Even if we don't see each other again … My musing stopped short. The idea of not seeing Winter again pierced my chest like an arrow.

"In third place." Erin rattled off the names and the books while everyone offered polite applause. With only first place remaining, my hopes dimmed. "And the Laurel goes to R.B. Taylor for Sometimes When We Touch. "

My heart sank. At least Shady Seductions got a second place. That'll boost sales .

"It's all right, Aspen," Winter assured me. "There's one more to go."

"Your category is coming up," Tammy said, leaning in from my other side. "Just wait and see."

The moment of truth had arrived. If I was going home with a trophy—and a thousand dollars—this would be it. I glanced at Selina. She wiggled in her seat, beaming like she'd already won. An odd thought popped into my befuddled head. If I could just take Winter home. I shook the absurd notion away.

Once again, Erin read a name I was only vaguely familiar with. "And in second place, Selina Fowlerton for The Serpent's Seduction. People clapped, Selina looked shocked, and a buzz of excitement like ten thousand bees hummed through my entire body. Every extremity went numb, and a euphoria of hope made me dizzy.

"The Laurel for Romantic Thriller goes to Aspen Wolfe for Quick. "

Tammy slapped me on the back. "I knew it!"

"Aspen, that's awesome!" Winter effervesced with elation as I felt every cell in her body radiate pride.

"Well, go get it, silly woman!" Tammy prompted.

I won. I beat Selina. It felt surreal, but I obeyed Tammy's urging, rose, and headed toward the platform. What will I say? I didn't prepare a speech. I have to recognize Tammy. My mind was a Grand Central Station of thoughts as I passed the head table.

As if from nowhere, a vicious growl sounded, footsteps thundered, and it felt like I was struck by a bull before crashing to the floor with a painful thud. "Fraud! Fuckin' fake! You don't deserve to win!" A substantial weight pinned me to the thin carpet and a powerful punch wrenched my gut. The shock surpassed having my name called, and even that of finding myself locked in a blazing room. A woman Tammy's age glared at me with fiery hatred after knocking me to the floor in front of everyone.