Page 12 of The Ruse of Romancing

The woman snorted. “Seriously? What about customer service for the person he just left abandoned at the cash register?”

I shrugged. “Joyce has a very narrow, specific definition of customer service. Essentially, she’s the customer and you exist to serve her.”

The woman shook her head, glancing around the shop. “I guess I might as well wander, see if there are any other books that catch my attention. Not that I’m here to read.”

“What are you here for?” I asked, curious. There was something vaguely familiar about the way she stood, one hip cocked to the side, one hand on her waist. Maybe I’d seen her on the beach recently.

“I’m here for work.” The response came out terse and clipped, as if she’d practiced it multiple times but it still felt uncomfortable to say out loud.

I nodded. “Not the typical response for someone visiting Cascade Harbor in the summer. Usually, people come here to escape work. What do you do?” Given that she’d been signing books, the answer was obvious, but it made for easy conversation to get her talking.

She bit her lip, debating what to say next.

I was very much a fan of that lip. I wouldn’t mind giving it a little nip, after I’d convinced her she wanted to see me again outside of the bookstore.

Though kissing her might not be conducive to leveraging a connection to help with my book cover design efforts.

I’d have to play the romantic angle of things by ear.

Right now, I was more interested in learning about just how well-connected she was in the publishing industry.

She exhaled, her shoulders slumping as she seemed to make a decision. “You’ll probably figure it out, if you haven’t already.” She gestured to the paperback on the counter next to her stack of books, resigned. “I’m an author. I’m here to write my second book.”

I reached around her, picking up the book.

“ Of Curses and Pomegranates by Danielle Baldwin.” I read the title out loud before flipping it over to read the back.

It only took me a moment to realize this was the book every woman I’d interacted with this summer had raved about.

It was the kind of book that made careers, for authors and cover designers.

“Please don’t read the synopsis while I’m standing here,” Danielle said, covering her face with her hands. “I never know how to react when people are judging my book baby in front of me. It’s okay if it’s not the book for you, I just don’t need to know that.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s not for me, Danielle Baldwin?”

“It’s Dani. And probably because it’s very much a romance and you don’t strike me as the romance kind of guy.”

I pressed a hand to my chest in mock offense, continuing to hold the book with my other hand. “I feel like I’m being judged and coming up short. How do you know I’m not a romance kind of guy? I’ll have you know, I can be very romantic. I’ve even read at least one Jane Austen novel.”

I’d read it in high school, and I didn’t remember which Jane Austen novel, but that was beside the point. Jane Eyre was by Jane Austen, right? Or was that Wuthering Heights ?

“It’s just... um... I... uh,” she stuttered, clearly thrown off by my response.

“If nothing else, I am a design guy, and this cover,” I held the book up for her to see, as if she wasn’t familiar with her own book cover, “is very well designed.”

“Thanks! I wish I could take credit for that, but my publishing house hired this incredibly talented designer and—” She broke off with a groan, smacking her forehead as if just remembering some crucial piece of information. “The cover.” She muttered.

“The cover?” I asked, curious how my comment could have led to this response. I felt like it was a good, solid compliment, but her reaction said otherwise.

“I forgot that, in addition to writing the second book in the series, I need to send in suggestions for the cover design. And with my cover designer on an unexpected hiatus, I’m supposed to be reviewing a few alternative artists my publisher is considering.

” She continued muttering to herself, patting her pockets, likely in search of her phone.

Her comments had my interest further piqued.

If her publisher was considering a new artist for her cover, could I possibly get myself on their radar?

It would mean shifting this interaction firmly away from anything romantic into something professional, but I had no issues with that.

There would be more tourists. There was no guarantee I’d get another shot like this to get my work in front of a publisher.

And even if they didn’t use me for this book cover, maybe they’d consider me for other books.

I couldn’t fully hear what Dani said as she pulled out her phone, something about “Avery” and “murder” and “run away to Alaska,” but I got the sense that her stress levels had just skyrocketed. Maybe, if I played my cards right, I could help with that stress level and do a bit of networking.

I looked around, trying to come up with some way to redirect the conversation when I registered the sounds around us.

Specifically, the sound of a very loud, very angry Joyce Campbell getting closer to the cash register, and Spencer’s quieter, placating voice attempting to calm her.

It sounded very much like Joyce was gearing up for the aforementioned customer service lecture and Dani and I were about to become unwitting audience members.

Panicked, I glanced around the bookshelves for an escape, not certain which aisle the unwelcome pair were coming down but certain they’d arrive soon. Spencer’s open office door caught my attention, offering the only viable escape route.

“Quick, hide!” I snagged Dani’s arm and pulled her into the office with me, flipping off the lights and closing the door behind us.