Page 79 of Purely Novel Intent (Mile High Romance)

“I’m sorry. It’s still kind of a sore subject.” Jason exhales. “I know you wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“I wish I didn’t have to, man.”

Jason takes a deep breath. “Harper wrote about me. Us. And published it.”

“What?” I balk. “I didn’t know she’s a writer.”

“Was,” Jason says. “I think. It helped her pay for law school.”

“So I’m guessing she wrote something pretty bad, then?” I hold my breath.

“Her readers seemed to like it,” Jason says under his breath. “But it was supposed to be private.”

“Wait,” I say. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That she wrote about our sex life? Yeah, she did.”

“I…I’m lost. Why write about your sex life? Was it some sort of thesis, or maybe an autobiography? And people read it?” I grasp for possible explanations.

“It was a romance novel,” Jason growls. “She said she wrote it, and a few others, before we met, but the scenes in them were, well, unoriginal.”

“Shit,” I mumble.

“Yeah.”

“How did you find out?”

“I read one. I found it in her bookshelf and was curious why she found it appealing, then I read a few scenes that sounded familiar.”

I’m speechless. No one wants to have their private moments exposed to the world, especially without their knowledge. I understand now why Jason always referred to it as “the betrayal.” Imagine reading about yourself, your love life, in the pages of a book. How could Harper do that? Oh shit, Harper.

“What does Harper do now?” I ask, hoping my voice didn’t betray the anxiety I’m feeling. “Does she still write?”

“I don’t know if she writes,” Jason says. “If she did, she’d probably publish under a pen name. Last I heard she was working as an agent.”

“An agent? What, like a sports agent?” That’s what she always planned to do, but right now I’m wondering if she stuck to that plan. I hold my breath, hoping that will distract me from the pit growing in my stomach.

“No, a literary agent.”

“Huh,” I mumble, hoping Jason isn’t connecting the dots I’m starting to see. “Well, Lisa is trying to write a kids’ book. Maybe that’s how she knows Harper,” I offer lamely.

“Maybe.” Jason has the decency to agree.

“Look, I’m sorry to bring it up. I just couldn’t figure out why Lisa might know her.”

“It’s cool,” Jason says, although I’m sure he’s more rattled than he’s letting on. “I’ll update you when I hear from Sling.”

“Thanks.” I disconnect.

I play the conversation over in my mind, hoping to recall something that will make this all a crazy coincidence. But I can’t find it. Harper is a literary agent and a former romance writer. Lisa is a writer. In some way, she’s worked for or with Harper, and they’re close enough that Harper knows Lisa is in a relationship. The question is what work brought Harper and Lisa together? And why did that work lead Lisa to go to Harper with questions about love? About me? I have a sinking feeling I know. I head to Lisa’s office and open the cupboard containing the romance novels.

There are a variety of titles and authors in the cupboard, maybe about twenty books in all. Most are paperback, and the spine indicates they’ve been read at least once. But there are seven or eight books, all by the same author, that look untouched. Michele Lenard. I pull one from the shelf and flip to the back, looking for a biography of the writer.

“Michele is a creative writer who enjoys telling stories about everyday people falling in love. She believes a love story doesn’t require gimmicks or clichés to be good and therefore tells her stories in a realistic setting that readers can identify with. She lets the characters themselves take center stage, and the ensuing romance evolves organically, the way it might evolve between any two people meant for one another. Though she loves fantasy, she wants her fantasies to be within reach for her readers.”

That’s not much to go on. Nothing about where Michele is from, where she lives, what she likes to do in her spare time. It’s obviously a pen name designed to protect the true identity of the author. Are these the books Harper had written under a pen name? And why are they untouched in Lisa’s cupboard? They wouldn’t be untouched unless…unless maybe Lisa had already read them before they went to print?

I scour the first and last pages, looking for anywhere the author might have thanked or mentioned the people who contributed. I’m expecting—no, hoping—to see Lisa’s name somewhere in those pages. Maybe for serving as an editor? What I find instead is a thank-you to the literary agent, Harper. Could Harper be both writer and agent? Would she still use a pen name in that scenario? Or is Harper not the writer at all?

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