Page 63 of Love ad Lib
‘Okay,’ he replied. ‘I’ll go as a broker from the City.’
‘No, you bloody won’t,’ said Estelle. ‘You and Libby can come with me to the theatrical hire shop in Bath tomorrow and pick something out.’
Libby gazed at her place setting.Elizabeth Bennet. Could she go as the real Lizzie Bennet? Persuade Henry to dress as Mr Darcy?’
‘Thank you,’ she said, before Henry could protest. ‘That would be lovely. I’ve always wanted to visit Bath.’
‘Any particular bit?’ Estelle asked, as waiters served their first course, a multi-layered terrine and salad.
‘Anything Jane Austen related.’
‘Oh, of course. Because of your name.’
‘And she works in publishing,’ Dervla added, from further up the table. ‘Libby, darling, you must speak to Arthur about his autobiography. It’s illustrated.’
‘But I can’t get any of the buggers from the big five to take it on,’ Arthur complained. ‘No vision. It’s aKama Sutrafor the modern age. Could be a bloody classic.’
‘What aboutyourpublishing house?’ Vivienne asked Libby. ‘Can you speak to them about it?’
Gram-Gram cleared her throat. ‘Ridiculous notion.’
‘Could you?’ Arthur asked.
‘I’m not sure it would be a good fit,’ she replied. ‘Winterblossom Press publishes women’s fiction, chick lit and romance novels only.’
‘Plenty of romance in it, I can tell you,’ said Arthur. ‘With pictures.’
Libby felt Henry stiffen beside her.
‘Dad,’ he said. ‘Your book is an autobiography. Winterblossom only publishes fiction.’
‘I could change the name?’ he suggested, a hopeful tone in his voice. ‘How aboutSunny Spells and Snowdrops at Fluffy Bunny Farm?’
Libby bit the inside of her cheek to stop a snort escaping. ‘I don’t think it would work. However, that is an excellent title for our target market.’
‘That’s how you met Henry, right?’ Summer asked. ‘At a book launch.’
‘Yes, forSpringtime Kisses and Daffodil Wishes at the Little Cornish Cupcake Café on Mermaid’s Cove, by Polly Hart.’
‘I love her books,’ said Eveline. ‘So romantic.’
Estelle pretended to gag on her terrine. ‘Give meFifty Shadesany day of the week over that yawn-fest.’
‘Have you even read any of her books?’ Eveline asked.
Estelle shook her head. ‘Don’t need to. I’m judging them by their covers.’
‘And when has that ever been a good idea?’
Estelle shrugged. ‘Always works for me.’ She turned back to Libby. ‘Why are the titles of those books so long and sappy?’
‘Our audience likes them.’
‘But the covers are mainly words. If it’s meant to be romance, then where are the people?’
‘Our target market doesn’t like figures on the front. We believe it’s because they don’t want anyone to know they’re reading a romance novel.’
Estelle rolled her eyes.
