Page 103 of Betting on the Bad Boy

“You’re not?” Claire asked. “So, I’m not going to be a grandmother?”

“Well, maybe eventually someday. Listen, I’m trying to tell you something important.”

“Thank goodness. That would look really bad in the press. Well, if you’re not pregnant, what is it? Do you have cancer? Oh my gosh, my poor baby?—”

“Mom, stop. I’m not pregnant, and I don’t have cancer. I’ve been writing erotic romance to put myself through school. I’ve been using the pen name Chastity Austen and one of my colleagues found out. He tried to blackmail me to keep it a secret, and I actually thought about doing what he wanted just to keep him quiet.”

I paused to take in another deep breath, eager to get it all out.

“Can you believe that? I was so afraid you’d be disappointed in me. I just wanted to let you know before you hear it from someone else.” The words flew out of my mouth like a run of verbal diarrhea. Way to go. Couldn’t give her just a little at a time? Had to spill it all at once?

The silence coming from the other end of the line was deafening. I waited a few moments for her to respond.

“Mom?”

“I’m processing, Faith. How long has this been going on?”

“I started writing my freshman year. My first book got published when I was a sophomore, and I’ve been releasing two or three books a year since then.” I hated springing this on her, but I wanted to be the one to tell her, and I needed some advice.

“Chastity Austen? I think I’ve heard that name.”

I cringed. “Yeah, my most recent book hit the New York Times bestseller list.”

“That book that’s getting all the press?” She gasped. “Oh, Faith. That’s you? Clem wrote a whole sermon about how modern fiction is corrupting our youth. He mentioned that book in particular.”

“Yep, that’s me. I’m sorry. I just kind of fell into it. I know it’s embarrassing for you and Clem, but I’m actually pretty good at it. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

Silence filled the airwaves between us.

“Mom, are you there?”

She clucked her tongue. “I’m not sure what to think about this yet. You say you’ve been putting yourself through school this way? I told you Clem and I would have been happy to cover your tuition. I just don’t understand, honey.”

“Yeah. Between the writing, scholarships, and my teaching position, I’ve paid off about three quarters of my undergrad tuition.”

“Writing about sex.”

I groaned. “It’s not like it’s, jeez Mom, it’s?—”

“I know firsthand how hard it is to make it as an author. But we need to talk about the subject matter. Your books... a lot of people think they’re immoral.”

“Oh, Mom. They’re stories and people like them. They might have a lot of sex, but I’m not writing about anything illegal.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that yet. Clem’s going to blow a gasket. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is going to be for him? His youth outreach program is just taking off. How’s that going to look when the press finds out his own stepdaughter is making a living writing porn?”

Telling her was a mistake, but what did I expect? “First or all, it’s not porn. They’re love stories. My heroines aren’t afraid to go for what they want, to stand up for themselves in and out of the bedroom.”

“I’ll have to call Clem’s new publicist. Maybe she can figure out how to spin this for him. I just don’t know, Faith. I’m going to need some time to work through this. Marcy’s a genius, but this might be a stretch, even for someone with her talent.”

“What about you, Mom?”

“What about me, dear?”

“How’s this going to reflect on your career? You write inspirational romance and devotionals. Is it all going to beruined because of me?” That was my fear. I didn’t want to be the cause of everything my mother had worked so hard for blowing up in her face.

“Oh, honey. If there’s one thing that’s good for publicity, it’s scandal. Even in the world of inspirational fiction. There may be some major fallout, but I’ll survive.”

“So, you’re not mad?”