Page 62 of Novel Problems

“Hannah,” I said gently. “I want to celebrate your successes. I know you like to keep things low-key, so I wasn’t planning anything too extravagant. Perhaps we could finish work a little earlier than usual, and we could have a glass of champagne down at Rivers’ Edge before Mom arrives?”

Hannah’s face broke into a warm smile. “That sounds amazing. It’s a date.”

I grinned. “Excellent. Now, let’s get to work on that strawberry tart. If we make good time, we might be able to fit in a few other activities tonight.”

I leaned in, giving Hannah a slow, sensual kiss so she had no doubt as to the type of activities I had in mind.

HANNAH

“Have you seen my phone?”

The strawberry tart was cooked, we’d enjoyed a mouthwatering pesto pasta dish George had whipped up, and we were getting ready for bed and the other “activities” George had alluded to if we made good time.

George, squeezing toothpaste on her toothbrush, looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and frowned. “I think the last time I saw it was in the kitchen?”

Now that I thought about it, that made sense. I didn’t remember having it while we were eating dinner. I wandered out to the kitchen, enjoying the lingering scent ofstrawberries and freshly cooked pastry, and found my phone under a dish towel on the countertop. I must have flung it there after washing up a couple of hours ago.

On autopilot, I tapped the screen, not expecting to see any notifications.

I frowned. Six missed calls and twenty-three unread messages. My chest tightened.What the…?

Oh god, I hope something hasn’t gone wrong with the book launch tomorrow. Or Barb? Or Mom and Dad?

I had two missed calls from my parents, one from my agent, Emma, and three from “friends” from New York who I hadn’t heard from in months. It was such a random selection of people.Why the hell did they all decide to call me today?

I clicked on my messages, hoping they’d shed more light on what was going on.

My stomach plummeted as I scrolled through the messages, most of which were from New York friends or acquaintances.

I can’t believe you never told us! I love your books. We should catch up. I’d love to hear how you are doing xxx Mel

Hannah! I just saw the article! How have you managed to keep this a secret from us all this time? Do you want to grab a drink next week? x Dana

My heart started pounding. What the hell was this article?

Hands shaking, I Googled my name and clicked on the top news article, titled “Best-selling author H. M. Stuart’s real identity revealed.”

Reclusive author H. M. Stuart took the fantasy world bystorm four years ago with the publication of the first book in herRealmsseries,The Realm of Thunder. Since then, her novels have been climbing the NYT best-sellers list, and interest in the author’s identity has grown. A day before the publication of her fourth book, it has been revealed that H. M. Stuart is the pen name of Hannah Taylor, graduate of NYU’s English Literature program and daughter of Professor Douglas Taylor and Professor Genevieve Taylor of Chicago University. Ms. Taylor filed for divorce from her wife, editor Tania Haynes, in March. Divorce proceedings have not yet been finalized…

A photo of me accompanied the article.It has been revealed?Bile rose in my throat.

As it sank in that my carefully guarded identity was no longer private, my throat constricted.Shit. Shit. Shit.

Tears welled in my eyes and I let out a strangled sob, my mind racing.

Who the hell had revealed my identity? Possibilities raced through my mind. Tania? Surely not. She had her failings, but she wasn’t vindictive—at least, I didn’t think so.

I’d gone for so long without anyone finding out. Could it have been someone who’d learned my identity recently? My new editor, Michael? I didn’t know him very well, so that was possible. Chris? I couldn’t imagine them betraying my confidence. George or Blake? I shook my head firmly, annoyed at myself for even considering the possibility. No, they would never do this.

My hands still trembling, I checked my emails to see if they could provide any further insight into what the hell had happened. An email from my parents asking me to call them. And another from Michael from earlier today. Hoping it might shed some light on what was going on, I clicked it.

Hi, Hannah,

I’ve read the first part of the manuscript you sent through. Would you be free to meet up to discuss? There’s lots to talk about. I’m in the office Tuesday to Thursday.

Thanks,

Michael

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