Page 13 of A Bookish Story

“Why?” I shove my hands on my hips. “You’re not willing to issue a public apology?”

“Of course, I am. I actually already did, not that anyone saw that video.” He shakes his head. “A while ago we decided to publish the romance under a pen name. To keep my works separate. There was never any intention I would write another book like it.”

“Ah, I see. But word will still get out, pen name or not. You have the same face.”

“Which is why I thought it much safer if I chose a woman’s name. Elizabeth Brogan.”

Now the pieces were coming together. The sheer audacity. Okay. A woman’s pen name. It isn’t like this kind of thing hasn’t been done before, though in reverse and usually by women trying to make it into a man’s world. There are many more examples going back to Shakespearean times.

“I can see how this has complicated your life. All this attention and you don’t even have a face to put with the name. Honestly, I’m surprised your agent hasn’t helped you with this.”

“She has but I don’t like her ideas. I don’t want to hire an actress to do this.”

So, apparently no girlfriend or significant other who might step in. Words aren’t coming as easily as they usually do, the information overload having a clear effect on my bandwidth.

“But it all might have been okay because I should have been able to stay under the radar, except…here’s where the real problem comes in.” He sighs. “The book was selected as the morning show pick on that new segment the insipid former reality star started. That’s the phone call I had yesterday from my agent.”

I have to sit down, so I plop down on the small end table, leaving two feet between us. The shed is small, but it’s a good twenty feet from one wall to another. I’ve tried to keep a few feet between me and Ryan at all times. Now, in this small space, I’m having trouble taking in a breath.

Last week I’d read that Carla Hopkins, one of the former contestants on Love Line, a reality dating show, and a cover model now married to an NHL player, wanted to share her love of romance books with the world. A major streaming service started their own book club for her to compete with GMA, Reese, and Jenna’s picks. She’ll be doing one a month and it sounds like Ryan’s book might be the first one.

“I didn’t know this, because I’ve never been in this position, but the size of the advance my agent negotiated meant the publisher made the book a lead title. They proposed several books to the show, including mine. Carla got an early copy and she chose the book because it reminds her of her love story with Mark.” Ryan runs a hand through his hair. “Apparently they hated each other when they first met.”

Enemies to lovers is one of my favorite tropes, right next to Grumpy Sunshine, but after pretend relationships. I have a numbered list somewhere.

“My agent wants to make the most of this temporary sensation. Trends come and go, and we happened to hit gold with this one. If only they hadn’t chosen the book, this might not even be a problem.”

Cry me a river, sir, I want to say. I think of Holly, who’s been querying for ten years without the slightest interest. She’s talented and has great ideas and plots but no one will give her a chance.

“So, of course you have to do it. The only problem is they usually have a live interview with the author. I’ve seen GMA do it on zoom, so the author doesn’t have to travel unless they want to or can.” I snap my fingers. “I guess you have no choice at this point but to hire someone. It’s either that or reveal the truth. You have to go all in with this deception.”

“I don’t like the word ‘deception.’” He makes air quotes.

“Riiight.”

I lower my gaze and stare at him from under hooded eyes to give him my “are you for real?” look.

“Okay, fine. Deception is the correct word, under most circumstances. But Elizabeth Brogan will eventually fade in popularity when there are no more romance books from her. From me. Problem solved.”

“Quitting at the top of your game? Gotta say, not many would do that.”

“This book was a fluke, and I don’t have another one in me. I write historical fiction and I’ll die happily in obscurity. Believe me, this is not what I wanted. I’m going to divorce Elizabeth Brogan like I divorced my ex-wife. Soulmates was Elizabeth’s first and last book.”

“And that’s your final answer?”

He nods. “The reason I’m here is…well, the moment I met you I thought...and so did Henry, by the way, and that’s why he thought I’d be an idiot not to hire you. Seriously, it’s like you just stepped out of the pages of my book. So maybe you could pretend to be Elizabeth Brogan…as part of your employment.”

Is this what he meant by being flexible? By “other duties”? I’m definitely not being paid enough for this.

“Just the web meeting they’ll broadcast later on the show. I’m sure you’ve seen those. You’ll pose for some photos holding the book, that kind of thing.”

Without saying a word, I swallow so hard I think maybe the people next door can hear me. He doesn’t know he’s asked me to do something so far out of my comfort zone it may as well be set on another galaxy. Is it because I’m already a ghostwriter so he thinks it’s easy for me to slip into the skin of someone else? I don’t want to believe it, but he’s probably right. After all, I already write other people’s stories.

I still haven’t answered so he keeps talking.

“Of course, this all has to be approved by my agency and the publisher. We never pictured or planned on doing anything this public, hence the pen name. If the publisher is okay with this, we can go forward. You’re already a writer, so you’d be perfect. You know this world. Our world.”

If he’s trying to flatter me, it works. Our world. As if I share even a slice of that world with an author whose book debuted on a major list.