Page 3 of Courtney
I’m already shaking my head no before I answer her. “No.”
“You haven’t even heard my pitch.”
"I don't need to hear it. You already know what I'm going to say. I want my anonymity, always have."
“I haven’t forgotten the fact that you don’t want to be known as the man behind Maxine Devore. If you hadn’t cut me off, I could have told you that the publisher has hired an actress to be the face of Maxine for you.”
“Hmm, really?”
“Yes, I thought it would be helpful for you to go so you can see the excitement of your fans and remember why you started this pen name in the first place.”
“Well, I guess it’s not the worst idea ever.”
“Thanks so much for your confidence in me.” She chuckles, and I’m grateful that she understands that I didn’t mean it as harshly as it sounded.
I've been working with Daphne since the start of my writing career a few years ago. She didn't blink an eye on the video call when Max Devers appeared on the screen when she expected Maxine Devore. She saw the potential in my writing and quickly got on board when I explained my concerns for keeping my identity a secret.
It's a well-known fact in the writing world that men don't always have the best instincts when it comes to writing female protagonists in romance or anything for that matter. But having been raised by my grandmother and three older sisters, I felt like I had some unique insights into the female mind that many of my fellow male writers lacked. I was a voracious reader as a child and would read whatever I could get my hands on. And that often consisted of whatever the women in my family were reading—mostly romance. Besides, romance is a billion-dollar business, and if I wanted to make a living writing, it seemed like the fastest way to get the money flowing into my bank account.
“The arrangements have already been made. We’ve secured the location, started a media campaign in the area to get the word out, and started prepping Faux Maxine for the role of her community theater lifetime.”
“When is it?”
“Thursday.”
“So soon?”
"The publisher doesn't want to waste any more time. As you said, you've been a consistent bestseller for them, but they are only willing to sink so much into an author before they cut their losses and pull the plug."
Daphne must have called in quite a few favors for me to make this happen. The last thing I want to do is let her down.
“Send me the time and the address. I’ll be there.”
I can hear the smile in Daphne's voice when she says, "You won't regret this, Max. I think it will be perfect for you."
I'm not as optimistic as her, but at this point, my writing drought can't get any worse. Maybe this will help. I hope it helps.
3
COURTNEY
The line of people waiting to meet Maxine Devore starts near the back of the store by the table set up for her to sign the copies. Then it weaves around the stacks of books and out the door and down the street.
I knew I recognized the name Maxine Devore at the coffee shop, but I didn't remember from where until I walked into the shop the following day and saw the note from my boss about setting up a display with all her books for her book signing.
When I realized the connection, I texted everyone in the club to let them know. They all said they were going to try and make it, but with it being such short notice, who knows who will be able to come.
I don't have to work the counter today for the signing. It's my job to be at the beck and call of Maxine Devore's assistant, Max, so nothing goes wrong. My boss wants to start lining up more book signings with local authors to get more foot traffic in the store. So I need to make sure this event goes as seamlessly as possible.
"Is there anything I can get you to drink? Coffee? Tea? Bottle water?" I ask Max as we stand in the backroom for employees only, waiting for Maxine to show up.
“No, I’m good.” He holds up his reusable water bottle. “Thank you.”
I look down at my watch. The signing starts in ten minutes, and still no sign of the author. My first time in charge of an event here at the store is already off to a great start. At least Maxine's assistant is easy to look at.
When he first walked in the store this morning, I thought he looked familiar, but I chalked up the familiarity to him having one of those faces—square jaw, blue eyes, and an easy smile that ignited a heat in my lower belly that I haven't been able to shake.
"So," I say, trying to break up the awkward silence. "Max and Maxine, people must get you two mixed up all the time thinking you could be the same person."
