Page 469 of One More Kiss

I look down and realize she’s right.

“How did you—” I shout from behind the curtain.

“The Bible!” she yells back, and I smile.

Less than two hours later, we’re heading to one of the hotel’s meeting rooms where a group of readers are waiting for me. No matter how many events I do, it still feels surreal. I’m completely humbled that people read my words and even want to meet me. It’s an intoxicating feeling, and every time I leave one of these events, I have to pinch myself because this is my life.

“You have one hour and forty-five minutes, and then we have to get you to the bookstore for the signing. Ready?” Olivia asks as she brushes one of my flyaway hairs off my forehead. She really is my right-hand woman.

“Absolutely!” I say, confidently and smile.

She opens the doors for me, and I’m greeted by a dozen women who all smile and start clapping as soon as I walk in. It’s so overwhelming, yet I can’t deny how great it feels. They stand up from the table, so I can give them each a hug while they introduce themselves to me.

Meet-n-greets are intimate and personal, which is one of the reasons I love them so much. I meet a lot of readers online, but there’s nothing like connecting with them in person.

Once we’re all seated and settled with our plates of food, questions start flying. “So does Nathan know you wrote a novel about him?” Amelia, a woman around the same age as me, asks. “I mean, he’d have to, right?”

Everyone leans over the table, itching closer to hear my response.

The New York Times reached out to my publisher and requested an interview with me and printed it right before the book’s release where I confirmed the rumors about this novel being inspired by true events. Considering this was a steamy romance novel, they were intrigued, along with thousands of readers. So, of course, the million-dollar question everyone wants to know—did “Nathan” know I wrote this book primarily based on our week together?

Of course, Nathan was actually Ethan, but I haven’t confirmed whether or not he knew because honestly, I didn’t. I had no idea if he followed my social media pages, but I haven’t come out and told him personally. Hell, I haven’t even spoken to him. Concern on how readers will react to that truth is why I haven’t publicly revealed that. Part of me worries my readers would be upset if I told our story without his permission, and the other part of me stresses they wouldn’t connect with the characters if they knew the real-life love story didn’t end the same.

“I don’t think so,” is all I offer to Amelia.

“Do you think he’d be mad if he found out?” another woman asks. “Like now that the book is released, he could know, right?” There’s hopefulness in her tone.

“Sure, he could. Not sure he follows romance books, but never say never,” I say with a forced smile. I knew going on tour and having these meet-n-greets would bring up uncomfortable questions and memories of Ethan, but being in the same town as him and where the story took place is affecting me in more ways than one.

The brunch ends on a high note when I announce there’ll be more standalone books in the series. My agent ended up getting me a three-book deal for the series once she sold the first one, and after I sent in summaries for books two and three.

“You did good,” Olivia praises. “I am starting to wonder if this Nathan guy is real though.” She flashes me a wink, and I roll my eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I say with a chuckle.

“The more you talk about him, the more he sounds too good to be true.”

“If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is,” I say, confirming what she already expected. Ethan’s the full package, and anyone that meets him would probably agree. However, that doesn’t void the fact that we were destined to end this way.

His emotional baggage mixed with my trust issues was a disaster waiting to happen. But I can confidently say that if I had to do it all over again, I undoubtedly would.

The afternoon and night go by fast. The signing is a huge success and meeting readers who want my autograph and picture has me floating on cloud nine. I’m not a social person by nature, but as soon as I enter that room filled with people whose eyes are all on me, something in my brain switches.

I’m suddenly the most social person ever, remembering to smile and hug people. I pose for pictures and thank them for coming. Nora calls it Vada 2.0.

I laugh, thinking back to the conversation. She knows how introverted I am and often teases me for all the food deliveries I get.

“You have more men coming and going from your apartment than the Playboy mansion,” she mocked.

“Well, what can I say? Food is my weakness.” I smirked, earning a groan from her.

“One of these days, I’m teaching you to cook a damn meal for yourself. How are you ever going to be able to cook dinner for your future husband?”

I gave her a look that told her that wasn’t something I’d have to be concerned about anytime soon.

“You could go out every once in a while. Meet up with some friends,” she encouraged.

“I don’t have friends.” I deadpanned. “Except you and Oliver.”

---