Mandy's heart began to race as Jacinth moved toward the final section of her bookshelves. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap as the Djinn's graceful hand traced along the spines of multiple copies of books - both hardcover and paperback - all bearing the same author name. Jacinth's brow furrowed as she pulled one out, examining the cover.
"Why do you have so many copies of each book by this author?"
Color rushed to Mandy's face. She lowered her gaze to her twisted fingers. "Actually... I'm the author. That's me."
"You wrote all these?" Jacinth pulled out a hardcover edition ofSiren's Song, the third book in Mandy's paranormal romance series about merfolk.
"I've been writing paranormal romance for about ten years," Mandy explained. "Though I tried contemporary early on."
Jacinth's laugh filled the room. "I knew you were writing something when I watched you, but an author! Why didn't you say?"
"It never came up. I'm just a self-published author who writes about magical creatures and humans falling in love." Mandy paused. "Though those stories might read differently now."
Jacinth settled onto the couch withSiren's Song. "Are these romances based on your experiences?"
Mandy winced, stroking Bach's fur. His purring helped ground her against rising memories. "Actually... it's the opposite. I've always wanted that kind of love, but..." Her voice trailed off. "It never happened for me."
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she glanced down. "There have been men in my life. Of course. But they neversawme.They wanted things - money, a place to stay, someone to take care of them. Even, sometimes, simply because I was there. But love? That never happened."
Mandy gestured toward her bookshelves. "So I write these stories, give my characters the happiness I never found. They get their happy endings." She chuckled with somewhat bittersweet humor. "I experience love vicariously through them."
Bach butted his head against her hand. She obliged him, grateful for the distraction. "Pathetic, isn't it? A romance writer who's never found love."
"That's such a shame." Jacinth set the book aside, leaning forward. "But you shouldn't give up hope."
Mandy laughed, the sound bitter. "Jacinth, I'm sixty-seven. That ship has sailed." She gestured at herself - grey hair, extra pounds, cane propped against her recliner. "Not exactly prime dating material."
"Nonsense." Jacinth's bracelets jingled as she waved dismissively. "Magic has a way of surprising people when they least expect it."
The warmth in Jacinth's voice made Mandy's chest tighten. She wanted to believe in possibilities, in magic, in happy endings. But decades of disappointment had taught her better.
Jacinth turned back to the shelves, head tilting. "These are organized by series?"
"Yes." Mandy nodded, pleased someone had noticed. "Each series has its own shelf, chronologically arranged."
"Very methodical." Jacinth pulled out a hardcover ofThe Mermaid's Kiss. "How much for this one?"
"Oh, please. Take whichever ones you'd like."
Jacinth planted one hand on her hip. "Mandy Dupont, don't you dare give away your books. Did you write these yourself, or did you write these yourself?"
Heat crept up Mandy's neck. "Well, yes, but-"
"No buts." Jacinth held up the book. "You put your heart and soul into these stories. They have value. I want to pay properly."
Mandy squirmed in her recliner. She'd always struggled with putting monetary value on her work in person, though she sold them readily online. Something about face-to-face transactions made her want to give them away.
Mandy sought a middle ground. Jacinth clearly wouldn't back down about paying, but charging full price to someone who'd helped her felt wrong.
"How about a compromise? The book sells for sixteen dollars, but my author copies cost six." She paused. "Would ten be fair? More than my cost, less than retail."
Jacinth scowled. "You're still undervaluing your work."
Mandy shook her head. "No, I'm not. I get two dollars in royalties per retail sale. At ten, I'm doubling my money."
"I can accept that." Jacinth reached into a purse - had that existed a moment ago? - and pulled out a crisp ten-dollar bill.
Mandy tucked the ten-dollar bill into the side pocket of her recliner, still uncomfortable with accepting money from someone she knew. A glint of silver caught her eye - Jacinth now held an elegant fountain pen that hadn't existed a moment ago.
