Page 13 of Novel Problems

The thought of confessing to George made my stomach turn. How would she react to the news? I hated the idea that she might think I’d lied to her. I also didn’t want my identity as H. M. Stuart to affect the way she saw me. She seemed very down to earth, but she was also a fan of my books and that might affect our dynamic. I’d been enjoying our relaxed interactions. I didn’t want that to change.

Not only that, but I’d been enjoying working at Novel Gossip. The thought of returning to my isolated existence no longer seemed as appealing as it had only yesterday morning. I sighed. Despite all that, I knew this wasn’t a sustainable situation.

Someone cleared their throat, and I looked up to see George smiling at me, her adorable dimple on full display. “I made you a coffee and thought you might want to try a slice of this as well.” She placed a latte and a generous slice of the chocolate-almond-date cake in front of me.

“Thank you! I’ve been eyeing the cake all morning.”

“I noticed.” George grinned.

Heat shot up my face at the thought that George had seen me pining after the cake.I hope she didn't also notice me eavesdropping on her and Olivia.My heart warmed as I realized she’d also remembered my coffee order from yesterday. That was so thoughtful.

“If I do say so myself, it’s one of my better ones.”

My eyes widened.George made it?I’d assumed Romina made all the sweets. I watched her walk back to the counter and then stuck a forkful of cake in my mouth.

Holy shit.I closed my eyes. The cake was incredible.Not only could George make a mean latte and give great book recommendations, but she could bake as well. If she and Olivia were dating, Olivia was one lucky woman.

I spent a few more minutes savoring the coffee and cake and then focused my mind back on the problem of the books that needed signing. I sighed. There was no getting around my predicament. I’d have to fess up to George at the end of my shift and ask if she’d mind me staying late to sign them all. I just hoped to god that my confession wouldn’t make George look at me any differently. And that maybe I could keep working at Novel Gossip a little longer.

It was almost closing time,and after another busy day, the café was quiet. Only one man, hunched over a laptop nursing the dregs of a cappuccino, remained.

I was stacking clean mugs, still warm from the dishwasher, on top of the coffee machine, when George spoke.

“Hannah, once you’ve finished with that, would you mind helping restock the shelves? I’ve stacked the boxes of new books we need to unpack in the kids’ section. If you’re not sure where any of them go, just put them aside, and I’ll look at them later.”

I turned to find George smiling at me. Was it my imagination, or had her gaze just jumped from my ass to my face?Was George checking me out?My heart leaped at the thought.

“Of course.” Pleased to have an excuse to spend more time in the book aisles, I walked to the back of the bookstore and set to work. I glanced at the blurb of each book I unpacked, telling myself that it was important I familiarized myself with the new books so I could give customersrecommendations, before remembering that my days at Novel Gossip were likely to be numbered. My stomach sank at the thought.

Twenty minutes later, I was kneeling on the floor, opening another box of books when George appeared, her face flushed.

“Oh my god! I just got off the phone with the distributor, and it turns out thatThe Realm of Furiesdelivery wasn’t a mistake after all! Apparently, H. M. Stuart is staying in Sapphire Springs, and they were delivered here so he could sign them. I left work early Monday afternoon, and the publicist that was arranging the delivery spoke to Ben instead. Things have been so hectic I missed the email Ben sent me about it.”

I stood, legs shaky, and braced myself.Okay, Hannah. This is your moment to tell George who you are and what really brought you to Novel Gossip.I took a deep breath, but before I got any further, George started speaking again, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’m not usually one to get starstruck, but I’m really nervous about meeting him. He’s such a talented writer. Have you read any of his books?” Thankfully, George was so excited she didn’t stop for an answer. “He’s incredible at world-building, turning classic fantasy tropes on their heads and exploring moral and ethical issues. But he somehow still manages to make them fast-paced and a lot of fun to read. And he does an amazing job at creating complex, strong characters—especially female characters.”

Pride welled up at hearing George’s compliments.

I must’ve had a strange expression on my face, because George caught my eye and then chuckled, shaking her head. “Sorry. See what I mean? I’ll make a complete fool of myself around him when he comes in. I may need you formoral support—or at least to kick me if I start fangirling too hard.”

I let out a nervous laugh, unsure what to say. I knew I shouldn’t let this continue any further. I was just digging a deeper hole for myself the longer this went on. But after George’s rave review, it felt even more awkward coming clean to her. George seemed so worried about making a good impression on H. M. Stuart that surely it would be cruel to reveal my identity immediately after she’d showered H. M. Stuart with compliments and specifically said she did not want to embarrass herself in front of “him.” Perhaps I could wait to tell her tomorrow, when the memory of this conversation might have faded a little in her mind, to help dampen the humiliation. But was I grasping at excuses to put off telling her or just being reasonable? I didn’t have a clue.

“The last customer has left, and I’ve locked the front door, so I can help put the rest of these away,” George said, bending over the opened box and pulling out a handful of books.

Relieved by the change of topic, I pulled out a few more. As we worked, George told me about some books she’d enjoyed recently, her eyes sparkling.

“This is another great book, if you like high fantasy. I’ve got an advanced copy you’re more than welcome to have if you’re interested.” George held up a copy of Chris Chen’s latest book from the box of new releases. I opened my mouth, about to say I’d adored it too, and then slammed my mouth shut. I’d been given an advanced copy as well and had written a blurb for the book George was holding. A blurb that was now in quotes on the top left corner of the cover. Probably best not to mention I’d read it.

“I love Chris Chen,” I said instead, scanning the otherbooks in the box to look for something that would draw the conversation away from fantasy authors, which was proving fraught. My eyes landed on a book. “Oh, and I’ve been looking forward to this one as well.” I grabbed a copy of Alison Cochrun’s latest novel. I only received fantasy books to blurb, so I had to wait like everyone else for anticipated romance reads.

George’s face flickered for a second with an expression I couldn’t make out. And then heat rose in my cheeks as I realized, in my haste to change the subject, I might have unintentionally signaled to her that I was queer. Not that a lot of straight people didn’t read queer romance, especially the big names like Casey McQuiston, Alison Cochrun, and Ashley Herring Blake. And why did I care if George knew I was a lesbian, anyway?

“I haven’t read that one yet,” George said. “But I lovedKiss Her Once for Me. I can’t remember if I mentioned this, but you get an employee discount on any books in the store.”

“That sounds dangerous.” I grinned, pulling the last book out of the box and placing it on the shelf.

We both stood up.

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