Page 35 of SapphicLover69
“I always eat it, don’t I?” Tammy said in defense. “I love your cooking! And adding some spice here and there couldn’t hurt,” she continued, then smacked a kiss to Beth’s cheek.
A warm feeling wrapped me in its embrace like a quilt my grandma had sewn, each square a memory with a meaning behind it. I wanted what they had, and I hadn’t found it yet. Maybe I wasn’t ready before, but I had matured a lot, wrestled with life and my place in it. Even before I’d come here, I had yearned for more. I wrote about passion, romance, and love, and I’d had a few shots at it in the past. I just hadn’t found my happy ending yet, and I craved it with all my being. If I didn’t step upand take a chance—even though it meant I could crash and burn again—then I’d never realize it.
“I see that sappy look you’re giving us,” Tammy accused, jabbing her fork in my direction. “Every bit deserved, too,” she added with a shining grin.
I felt heat rise in my cheeks, though from embarrassment at getting caught or because of the light burn I couldn’t be certain.
“Yeah, well, you two are simply adorable,” I replied. “What can I say?”
Speaking of adorable, I noticed how Winter cut her food into tiny bites, all arranged on her plate, so no morsel touched another food group. I mean, weren’t most geniuses a little OCD? I was paying so much attention to her, I wasn’t even aware Selina Fowlerton had glided up behind me.
“Here you are,” she cooed in a seductive tone, dripping with fake admiration.
When I glanced over my shoulder, I got an eyeful of Selina Fowlerton’s breasts, as succulent as freshly picked ruby-red grapefruits from a Florida grove. Despite the light droplets of sweat beading on the cleavage put on display by her low-cut dress and the enticing aroma of her perfume, I wasn’t moved with desire. I was actually a little annoyed at her interruption.
“Oh, good morning, Selina.” As I smiled warmly at her, I couldn’t help but notice the cunning glimmer in her eyes. When her hand landed on my shoulder, it lacked the warmth I’d grown accustomed to from Winter.
She batted lush lashes at me in a flattering way, putting me on guard. “I admit yourQuickwas a clever idea and has enough spice in the mix to satisfy your following, even if it doesn’t live up to ‘Chapter Ten’.” She licked her lips most deliciously. “That Laurel Award is mine. Next time, stay in your own lane and leave suspense to me.”
Raising a brow, she smirked, straightened, turned, and sashayed away, exuding potent sexuality as she swished her perfect butt hugged by a formfitting red dress. On Thursday, I might have swooned after such an intimate display of competitive form; this morning I found it desperate and amusing.
“Wow, Aspen, she’s scared of you,” Tammy proclaimed with her mouth full of breakfast.
Winter turned a timid gaze to me, which I met with affectionate assurance on my face. “No worries,” I told her. Again, suspicion crept up my spine.Is it Selina? Just how scared and desperate is she?
“When did Selina’s book,The Serpent’s Seduction,release?”
Beth, the human encyclopedia of all things sapphic fiction, answered, “Last November—early November, but I don’t recall the exact day. It’s a good romantic suspense, and, given she publishes with FemLit Inc., she’s slightly favored to win in the unofficial betting pool. But it isn’t better thanQuick.It boils down to the judges’ opinions. The first round of voting separated the good books from the excellent ones. The second round used a trio of new judges who read all the finalists in their category, using scoring rubrics and their expertise to arrive at first, second, and third-place winners. Selina has already won three trophies for Romantic Suspense and six for Mystery/Thriller, which could either work for or against her. The judges might see her name and assume it will be fabulous before they get to the first line. On the other hand, they could think, ‘She’s won a bunch of these; let’s give someone else a chance.’ You aren’t letting what she said get you rattled, are you?”
“No.”That’s about the time SapphicLover69 started sending me private messages. It could be pure coincidence, but …I shook my head. A trophy and a one-thousand-dollar prize simply weren’t enough to warrant attempted murder.
“I readQuick,” Winter said, “in real-time. I just couldn’t put it down. But even if one of the other finalists wins that category, yourShady Seductionsis up for two awards, and it’s—wow, I mean—just wow!” Her cheeks flushed the most precious shade of pink.
“Thanks. I’m not worried,” and, for the first time in ages, I meant it. Either I would win an award, or I wouldn’t; it was out of my control. I wrote four novels last year, and two were Literary Laurels Finalists. Few authors could claim such fame. Although, Icoulduse the money. “I already won the jackpot,” I added, passing my gaze around the table.
A middle-aged woman standing in front of the buffet tapped a microphone, drawing our attention. “Good morning,” she chirped merrily. “Good morning, Literary Laurels Conference participants. Have you been enjoying the weekend here in the Big Easy?”
The room applauded and more than a few called out verbal responses. The announcer grinned and nodded. “Great. This afternoon we have another author reading, a class on how to build your author newsletter, The Heat Behind Ice Queens, and an important panel on the Ethics and Economics of using AI. Then, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, at seven tonight begins our banquette and awards ceremony.”
More applause erupted. Winter brushed my arm and beamed at me. I wondered if her brightness would dim if I won nothing. Even her casual touch filled me with delight, and my thoughts returned to imagining kissing her mouth, holding her close again, removing her clothes …should I do it in a slow, tantalizing rhythm or rip them off in a fevered rush?
“But now, you all have an equal chance to win cash and prizes in our raffles for the event.” I had seen this woman around all weekend, but I never caught her name. At the moment, it was difficult enough to focus on what she was saying.
“For the first draw, a lucky author will win Vellum Self-Publishing software for your Apple computer—no renewal or reactivation fees ever. Does everyone have your tickets ready?”
I hadn’t bought one because I didn’t own an Apple and already had Atticus on my laptop. A woman squealed when her number was called and dashed around tables and chairs to the front to receive an envelope containing her prize. Her enthusiasm reminded me of contestants onThe Price Is Right.
She announced winners for Atticus, a year’s platinum subscription to Book Brush, and the services of a professional website developer. Then she called out winners for other prizes, such as conference T-shirts, tote bags, and tickets for next year’s event. Not all recipients bounded around like Tigger with a spring in their tails, but even the more reserved ones seemed quite happy to win something.
“And now for the grand prize,” she announced. All chatter and clanking of silverware ceased as a hush settled over the room. “The fifty-fifty drawing. Each year, we collect your dollars to support the continuing work of the Literary Laurels Society. We do more than just hold an annual conference and give out trophies.”
While she enumerated the many ways the society supports sapphic authors and promotes awareness of the genre, I sneaked a peak at Winter. Although her attention was fixed on the unfolding scene as she leaned an elbow on the table, her chin cradled in her hand, her eyelids drooped. I wondered if she had gotten a good sleep, why she’d left me for her room, and what she would want to do today.She should remain as far away from me as possible to stay out of the line of fire.
“And, now, the winner of the fifty-fifty is …” She pulled a ticket from the bowl and read the number.
“That’s mine!” Elaine cried out enthusiastically. “I won!”
“Come on up. I’ve got an envelope of cash for you,” the announcer said with a broad grin. “Congratulations.”
