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The woman looked crestfallen, and anger flushed through Lori’s veins. It was one thing for Cobain to try and bully her; it was another for him to go after a reader.
“There is absolutely no prohibition against authors signing books previously purchased elsewhere. Don’t you worry about it. I’m happy to it at the signing or any other time at the conference.”
“Thank you, Lori. I knew you were going to be nice. I also had a chance to see your talk last night, and it really clarified for me why it is I like your books so much and why there are others,” she pointedly glanced over her shoulder at Cobain, “I can’t be bothered to read.”
Cobain looked like he was going to burst, and Lori was pretty sure she could hear him hrmph as he stalked off, muttering something about plebeians and the writers of ‘mass market mysteries.’ She couldn’t be sure, though, and thought it would be rude to ask.
He might have slammed the door on his way out, except the door was one that had an automatic soft close and therefore wouldn’t slam. Lori looked up at her new friend and smiled. The woman smiled back and then they both burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t need my intervention, but I despise bullies. I’m Millie Smith—could my mother have given me a more boring name than Mildred Smith? I do love your books, and I would love to get them signed, but I also want you to know you’ve inspired me. Like you, I’m a teacher: second grade up here in Maine. I’ve always wanted to write, and I think I’m going to take the summer break to see what I can do. Are there any books or You-Tube videos you’d recommend?”
“Anytime you want to stick up for me, feel free, and I meant what I said about signing your books. Come by my table at the signing, and I’ll have a list of the resources I felt were most useful in getting started. Do you have time to join me and let me buy you a cup of coffee?”
“I’ve taken up enough of your time, but I would really appreciate that list. I meant what I said, I just knew you’d be kind. You’re so approachable. I saw how you just moved to the common area and stayed and answered questions last night. I’m pretty sure mister high and mighty wouldn’t do anything somebody didn’t pay him for.”
Lori shrugged. “Cobain is a jerk—not just to readers, but to other authors and everybody else. I worry that someday he’ll bully somebody who isn’t as willing as you and me to dismiss his casual cruelty. He may well get the comeuppance he has coming.”
“Has tar and feathering gone out of style?” asked Millie.
“I think so, and seeing as his plots are so predictable, let’s hope the mystery behind whatever befalls him is intricate and juicy.”
Lori watched as Millie left the bistro and turned back to her laptop. The tempest outside was building. Knowing she would come back and change it, she typed the same refrain with which she’d wanted to start.
‘It was a dark and stormy night…’
CHAPTER 4
LORI
Lori had made plans and scouted the signing’s seating chart in order to find the authors with whom she wanted to connect. She’d been surprised when her friends pointed out to her that meeting and networking with other authors was second only to spending time with readers. As it was only her second signing, Lori was woefully unprepared for just how busy she would be.
The first signing had been something of a bust and rescheduled after one of the authors was murdered. But for Lori it had been notable as she was introduced to and made fast friends with fellow members of the Mystery Writers’ Murder Club: Christie Crofton, Jessica Murdock, and Fiona Fowler. It had also shown them how good they were at solving actual mysteries. Since then, they had met monthly to solve a cold case from somewhere in Maine.
For someone who had fretted about being able to really connect with people, Lori found herself having the best time. Readers came and went, many buying books and others bringing ones they’d already bought. She’d had her picture taken with so many people she’d lost count, but she couldn’t remember a time when she’d had more fun. Her face hurt from smiling and laughing.
Someone had said that the editor/publisher of the local newspaper was going to be wandering around, taking pictures and making notes for a story he planned to write for his paper. In her head she envisioned someone like the character Perry White in the Superman comics—older, distinguished, almost parental in the way he dealt with people. What she wasn’t prepared for was the man who looked down at her.
If she’d thought Jessica and Fiona had fallen for hunks, she was going to have to redefine that term.
“Lori Sykes? I’m Ryker McKay. I’m the owner and editor of the Bleak Ridge Sentinel.”
He was gorgeous. Dark, wavy hair, just long enough to give him the rakish look of some male model from a romance novel. He was dressed in a button-down white shirt tucked in button-fly jeans, a dark belt, and boots. He exuded dominance and sexuality in a heady cocktail that was intoxicating.
Before she could respond, his name rang a bell. Ryker McKay. “The Ryker McKay? Didn’t you win a Pulitzer Prize when you were with the Associated Press?”
He nodded and smiled. Oh god, that ‘little boy smile.’ She could practically hear Alannah Myles belting out Black Velvet. Lori was pretty sure her heart was going to beat out of her chest.
“Ryker! Ryker!” called Antony Cobain as he moved through the crowd with a book bunny on each arm. He’d left his assistant to man his table to sell books and hand out signed bookplates. There was no personalization to any of his signatures.
Ryker looked down at her. “Help a guy out, will you? It took me two hours to get away from him last night.”
Not trusting her voice, Lori looked up at him and nodded.
“Ryker, dear boy…” started Antony.
“Cobain,” he said evenly. “I was just twisting Lori’s arm to give me an interview. She was telling me she was really pressed for time as she’s on another couple of panels, and she really only attends signings to be able to meet with her fans.”
“Not fans,” Lori said, finding her voice, “but readers.”
