Page 18 of Paper Hearts & Plot Twists

Miles smiled politely as a majority of the audience stood and applauded. He pushed back the urge to fidget under the intense gaze of the crowd and waited for the applause to die down before he asked, “Are there any questions?”

Immediately hands shot up around the room. Miles noticed there were a few of the individuals with press badges, though there were definitely others around the room looking to ask questions.

Miles’s agent managed the audience, starting with fans’ and aspiring writers’ questions. They were usually much easier than press questions. Miles answered on autopilot. He and Ben worked together on scripted responses for a variety of expected questions for these events, and he rehearsed them over and over before the conference. Responding took nearly no thought at this point. It seemed like questions came in a circular manner, and Miles answered several of the same questions when he attended each conference. At least it made this part easy. He turned to face the next person asking a question.

“Mr. Bennett, can you please tell us the inspiration behind your main character in the Bloody Ashes Chronicles?”

Miles turned toward the speaker, a fake smile firmly positioned on his face. One of Inkwell Insights Daily’s representatives held a recorder in hand, waiting patiently for Miles to respond. Between them, Prose Pulse, and Bookish Beacons, Miles was hounded about his latest book news. Each of the papers was trying to be the first to get the latest and greatest news and to provide the best and most insightful look at older bookish news. Thankfully, only members of Inkwell Insights Daily were invited to this particular conference, so he wouldn’t have to deal with it from all three venues.

“As I talked about it in my interview with Prose Pulse,” Miles started. He hid the grin at the wince from the reporter. They hated it when he mentioned the other outlets while talking to them. “As a twin myself, I wanted to represent my background and use a lot of my experiences in the main male characters I created.”

“Would your twin be available for an interview as well?” the journalist asked.

“Unfortunately, he’s out of town,” Miles said with a shake of his head. He didn’t feel bad for lying, not when it came to protecting his twin from the bloodthirsty press after a story. Mason has his own press to deal with in the sports world. Mason had come to Denver the other day to watch the Denver Nuggets game. They hadn’t talked much, but Miles knew Mason planned to stay for the conference weekend and possibly pop in if Miles needed some support at one of his busiest events of the year.

Miles turned toward another person as they asked a question. He kept his one-hundred-watt smile in place and recited the information he’d practiced in advance for just this moment, though in his head he was a thousand miles away.

He kept replaying his conversation with Emily, thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she joked with him and the way her arms flung wide in exaggeration. His mind was spinning with ways to get her to laugh like she did earlier. What could he write that would cause her eyes to alight?

Miles turned his focus back to the journalists when a question he wasn’t expecting was asked. “Pardon, could you repeat the question one more time?”

“Of course,” the tiny woman said. “Could you tell us what you think of the surging popularity of contemporary romance, romantic comedies, and romantasy fiction in the mainstream reading community and on the best-sellers lists?”

Miles opened his mouth to respond, but closed it, set on taking a moment to actually think. The response that first came to mind is one he’d had for a while. He’d say that romance writing wasn’t real writing, that it was formulaic and predictable, and that anyone could do it. He’d say people who read that drivel weren’t real readers, and unfortunately there are more of those, so that’s why they end up on the best-sellers list. But how could he say that after this morning with Emily? How could he alienate a whole group of fans and authors? He’d better rephrase his response.

“There are several factors to consider,” Miles finally said after another pause. “I once would’ve been very scathing on this topic, and I apologize to romance readers and writers for those sentiments now that my thoughts have changed. I’d say anything that gets people reading or writing is great, and even people who want intrigue and nuance need something light and happy to cleanse their palate once in a while.”

“Is there anything in particular that caused this change of heart? Just last month you gave a fairly negative interview about this very topic.”

“Just some discussions I’ve had with some intelligent colleagues of mine,” Miles said, though Emily’s face was flashing before his eyes. Miles missed the surprised gape Ben’s mouth and the flurry of writing that accompanied his response, too caught up in his own thoughts.

Wheels were already starting to spin even if he wasn’t aware of it. Emily might be influencing him more than he wanted . . . and it was only the beginning.

Chapter 11

Emily remained seated long after Miles left for an event and long after the coffee soaking her clothing had cooled—the second time in two days this happened, unfortunately. She allowed herself to enjoy the silence and solitude for a moment and read in peace. That was what this conference should be about, after all.

She stared at the door where Miles exited, then forced herself to stand. She was still covered in sticky coffee and needed to get cleaned up so she could attend some panels and events for the day. She didn’t want to miss out on a single thing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get to come to a conference again.

Emily went into the bathroom and turned the shower knob, smiling as steaming water came from the showerhead. Hot showers were a luxury she always appreciated. At home, their water heater was starting to go out, so she was lucky if she got a solid seven minutes of warmth especially since three adults shared the space and the hot water heater. It didn’t help that she loved when the water was positively scalding hot.

Emily stepped under the streaming water and felt herself melt into the heat. She closed her eyes and stayed there much longer than she probably should. Her fingers and toes would resemble prunes by the end.

She exited the shower and blanched. There were only two towels, and both were wet, soaked, on the floor. Emily grimaced and grabbed a smaller hand towel, using it to sop off the water soaking her skin. She grabbed the hair dryer and dried her hair before throwing it up into a bun.

Emily grimaced again when she realized she hadn’t brought any clothing to the bathroom. She walked over to the door and peeked her head out.

“Are you out here, Miles?” she called.

The room remained silent, no shuffling and movement, no speaking. She pushed the door open and walked over to her suitcase, crouched down, and started shifting through the selection available, having to figure out what to wear now that her planned outfit was destroyed.

She decided to go the leggings and sweater route. She wanted to dress fancier on this trip, but fashion was definitely not her strength, and she felt most comfortable in the giant knit sweaters that dwarfed her. As she stood up with her clothing in hand a choked gasp startled her, causing her to spin toward the door and drop her bundle.

Standing at the entrance, eyes wide, and mouth slightly open was Miles, Starbucks in each hand and his laptop bag hanging over his shoulder. Emily squeaked. She dropped to the ground and fumbled for the dropped clothing. It took several long seconds before she grasped the articles in hand. She used the newly acquired sweater and leggings to cover her breasts and as much of the rest of the body as she could but was only partially successful.

“What are you doing?” he stuttered before finally turning back to face the door, giving Emily a bit of privacy. Emily sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her without answering him. There was absolutely no time for small talk. She leaned against the door, her heart pounding in her chest, and felt blood rush to her cheeks. She looked in the mirror and confirmed her face was flushed bright cherry red.

Emily allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before she called out through the door, “I forgot my clothes when I went to shower, and there were no clean towels since we both used them this morning. I called out for you but you didn’t answer so I thought it was safe to grab my clothes.” Getting dressed took much less time than she’d hoped. She waited several long moments after dressing before she decided she couldn’t spend any more time hiding in the bathroom.

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