Page 56 of How to Find a Romance in a Bookshop

“I’m actually seriously thinking about it,” he said as he handed Petra her glass. “Jess lobbied me when we met for drinks the other day.”

“She didn’t tell me!” said Petra, oddly put out.

“Well, it wasn’t like she was putting her case to ‘award-winning debut writer Ross McCloud,’” he reminded her. “I know you told them I was a writer,” he said, “but Jess seemed to think I was—what was it?—a UX writer for a US tech firm . . . ? Don’t even know what that is,” he admitted.

“I have no idea why she said that,” fibbed Petra, who had admittedly told them all something vague about Ross being a website copywriter. It wasn’t a complete lie. “But you’ve written website copy, no?”

“Years ago,” Ross insisted. “When I was a starving writer in a garret.”

“Ah yes, then,” said Petra ironically. “Aren’t you still one of them?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I might not have been completely straight with you,” he went on. “I’m actually still getting quite a decent income from royalties, and rights sales are still popping up too.”

“Why not be honest?” said Petra, puzzled, as she had—frankly—been wondering how Ross was making the rent.

He sighed. “It’s going to sound silly, but I’m kind of embarrassed to be making so much more than most. Do you even know how little the average writer makes a year in the UK?”

“There was a survey,” said Petra. “It’s something absurd like seven thousand pounds. Which is crazy, obviously. How can anyone live on that? And how are we going to have diverse voices in writing if no normal person can afford to do it? But you’re not average, thankfully.”

“No,” said Ross. “I’m not. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“So,” said Petra, pressing her advantage, “going back to Jess and the festival, why don’t you pay forward some of your luck and get involved?”

“You’re right,” said Ross. “I’ll lead that writing workshop Jess was hitting me up for, why not? I’ll have to google whatever the hell a UX writer is before then if that’s what I am.”

“That would be amazing,” Petra told him. Okay, so he wasn’t breaking cover with who he really was, but it was something. She was dying to let Jess know right away.

Alone again, after Petra left to speak to Jess, Ross tried—and failed—to unclench his jaw a little. He was so tense, he was giving himself a headache. It was such a joy sharing everything in his head with Petra these days, but she could do without knowing about these messages from Henrietta. This little complication he would bear alone for as long as he could. He knew the woman too well to think she might give up. And—he had already had the thought—if she was going to hunt him down anyway then he might as well beat her to the punch and come out into the open. Maybe the festival would be the time and place? That way, he could help his new friends at the same time, which was a bonus. But it was a grim thought all the same.

Jess and Petra were sitting in the little office at the back of the shop, cramming in a bit of work on the festival pre-publicity while the shop was quiet.

Jess, when Petra admitted Ross’s true identity, was staggered.

“You mean, I’ve been in the pub having a pint with Ross McCloud, and I didn’t even put two and two together,” she wondered in awe. “You said he was a UX writer,” she accused Petra.

“Actually, you said that,” corrected Petra. “I said he wrote website copy.”

“Which is basically the same thing and also not true,” Jess protested. And then the six-million-dollar-question occurred to her. “Is he writing something now?” she demanded, but Petra wasn’t to be drawn. All he had agreed to was hosting a workshop as Ross the website copywriter. It was a start.

“We definitely do need some sort of attention-grabber, though,” Petra said, scratching her head anxiously. “We need a big announcement.”

“I’ve been following some of the talks and workshops on our Insta feed,” Jess agreed, “but the only one that gained any traction was the illustration workshop with Imo. I mean, obviously, Imogen Crawley is such a big name around here . . .”

“Around everywhere,” observed Petra.

“Right. And her publisher and agency kindly added it to their stories, which was cool. We got a surge of new followers from that.”

“And how is our lineup looking?”

“Not bad,” said Jess, “but we’re a long way from London. It’s seriously hard to attract big publishing names to do presentations or even just to attend. Actually, Imo’s agent is very sweetly coming down to present a seminar on getting representation, which is proving really popular . . . it’s nearly fully booked up! Goes to show how many people secretly want to write a book—”

“—or already have,” Petra chipped in.

“Plus, she’s going to do some one-on-ones, which is so kind,” said Jess, looking relieved at the thought.

“That’s amazing,” Petra told her. Jess was doing an incredible job. Whereas, her . . . ?

She felt like she ought to be able to hook in some big names from the London publishing scene, but really? She had only ever been a bottom-feeder in the publishing world. And what sway she used to hold with the bigger writers on her list was nonexistent now.