Page 9 of A Cornish Winter’s Kiss

‘Ah, but you do, don’t you?’ He had to hand it to Sophia – she was unrelenting, her gaze never wavering from his, and he could tell that Marty and Emily were hanging on their every word.

‘I’m not saying it’s easy, it’s just…’ There was no real way to get out of this now that she’d put him on the spot, so he may as well tell the truth.

Jude always found it easier to defend his position if he was being honest about how he felt, so he might as well tell it how he saw it.

‘I’m not suggesting they’re easy to write, but they are predictable.

They follow a formula and the reader knows what’s going to happen right from the start. ’

The look Sophia gave him could have frozen water, and even Emily, who up until now had appeared to never stop smiling, regarded him with something close to disdain. It was Emily who responded first.

‘You could say the same about a murder novel, though, couldn’t you? You know someone is going to get killed, and that someone else is going to solve the crime. There’s a formula of sorts to that too.’

‘It’s not quite the same, though, is it? You don’t know who the murderer is from the start, at least not if the author has done a half decent job.’ His smile this time was genuine, but it wasn’t reciprocated by either of the women standing in front of him.

‘I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, haven’t you, Mr Cavendish, that only two things in life are certain?

Death and taxes?’ In that moment, Sophia looked as though she could happily hasten the first outcome for Jude, and he nodded.

‘In that case, by your reasoning, life itself is predictable, because we’re all going to suffer the same fate in the end.

What makes life exciting isn’t the outcome, it’s the journey we go on to get there, and I would argue it’s the same with a romance novel.

It doesn’t matter if the reader already knows the outcome; in fact, in an uncertain world there’s a joy in that certainty.

The real pleasure comes from losing themselves in the story that unfolds along the way. ’

‘It’s an argument you’ve won as far as I’m concerned.

’ Marty shot Jude a look that needed no words, but even if he’d wanted to continue the debate, he didn’t think he could have done a convincing job.

He already knew from bitter experience that writing romance was far from easy.

Sophia had made a good point about the joy of predictability in an uncertain world too, knowing that at least one thing was going to end well.

In Jude’s novels it happened when justice was served; that was what made the ending satisfactory for readers.

Maybe McGuigan having something going well in his personal life was an extension of that.

Jude had never thought about it that way before, but perhaps that was what his readers needed in order to feel they could identify with the character; something they could rely on in every new story that would make them want to come back for more.

If he’d underestimated Sophia’s insight, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, but she’d clearly given him all the time she was willing to spare.

‘Right, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us, Emily and I have work to do.

’ With a slight nod of her head, Sophia turned away and Emily followed suit, catching Jude’s eye for just a moment before she did.

She didn’t like him any more than Sophia did, that much was obvious.

It shouldn’t have mattered one bit what Emily Anderson thought of him, but somehow it did.

It bothered him even more when she started to read aloud to the crowd in that melodic voice of hers that could make him picture the scene she was describing with absolute clarity.

Given that the scene featured two characters falling in love, that in itself was nothing short of a miracle.

He didn’t want to believe in the story she was telling and yet somehow he couldn’t help it.

Jude could have told himself it was just the tricks of her trade, an ability all audio artists had to get the listener to connect with the story in a deeper way, but he knew that wasn’t true.

He’d listened to audio books before and he’d never felt quite so immersed in the character’s world, even when it had been a genre he enjoyed.

Whatever Emily had that made her different, it was something special.

‘She’s great, isn’t she?’ a woman standing next to Jude whispered in his ear, and he nodded.

He had no idea if she was talking about Sophia or Emily, but he knew which of the women he’d have described that way.

Emily fitted the kind of description he imagined Sophia had put into lots of her stories.

It might have been another cliché, but when Emily was reading it really did feel like a light had come on in the room.

She had an energy and a joy that could only come from doing something you were truly passionate about.

He envied her that. Writing had always been his passion, and a way of making sense of the difficult things in life, but he seemed to have lost his love even for that just lately.

His writing had started to feel forced and yet, when he watched Emily, it was almost as if he could feel the embers of his love for storytelling reigniting.

Despite all his misgivings, it might have been worth coming after all, because if he could find a way to harness that and picture DCI McGuigan in a scene like the one Emily had just described, then maybe, just maybe, he could transfer it to the page.

The champagne fizzed on Emily’s tongue and she let out a long, slow breath of relief now that she could finally relax.

Performing public readings had become easier since the first time Sophia had asked her to do one, but she’d have been lying if she didn’t admit that nerves still bubbled up inside her every time she did one.

It was nice to be up in the 5th View restaurant, with no responsibility other than drinking champagne and mingling.

In the early days, the mingling had been easier the more champagne she’d had.

It made her less self-conscious about introducing herself to people she didn’t believe had much interest in talking to her.

She’d been to enough writing events to know that there were certain people who made it their job to work the room, often authors looking for representation or a new publishing deal.

They’d take one look at Emily and decide she wasn’t worth their time.

That used to bother her far more than it did now, because she knew that the people who really mattered – Sophia and the other authors who made her their first choice to record their audio books – valued her.

Nowadays, she let the fact that some people couldn’t see her value wash over her, but tonight was different.

Every time she looked up, even during the reading, her gaze seemed to rest on Jude Cavendish, and a burning desire had built up inside her to tell him all the reasons he was wrong about Sophia’s books.

It had nothing to do with her abilities as a narrator and everything to do with the way he’d disrespected not only Sophia’s work, but an entire genre that so many people enjoyed, including Emily.

It had felt like he was just holding back from openly mocking her, and everyone like her, for their love of something he clearly believed had no worth.

There was an air of arrogance about him that undeniably irked her, but it was mixed with a hint of vulnerability too.

She’d caught a glimpse of it in his expression when Sophia had put him in his place about the predictability of romance novels and why people might find that comforting in difficult times.

It was almost as if he didn’t believe his own argument, but somehow he couldn’t admit that, because admitting it would have forced him to confront something else he wasn’t willing to accept.

Emily had no idea what that was, but if he’d been a character in one of Sophia’s books, he’d undoubtedly have been a damaged soul, the kind of man who’d been through some kind of trauma that had left an indelible mark on his soul.

The right woman would be able to help him heal, though, and Sophia would have written just the right kind of woman for him.

But this wasn’t a novel, and whatever it was that had made a troubled expression cross Jude’s face, she very much doubted he’d experienced any real trauma.

That hint of vulnerability had been just enough to stop her loathing him completely, but the reality was he’d still come across as an arrogant knob for 90 per cent of their interaction.

As her grandmother had always said, if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, it probably is one.

Either way, Jude would have a long way to go to prove her wrong.