Cover Girl

“What the hell are you afraid of?”

“I dunno, purses remind me of that movie Roman Holiday.”

She furrowed her brow. “Huh?”

“You know, that scene with the Mouth of Truth where you put your hand in it and if you’re a liar the statue will bite it off. And Gregory Peck sticks his hand in there and pulls it up into his sleeve so Audrey Hepburn would think the legend was true.”

She shook her head. “I assure you, there are no extremity-eating monsters in my purse.”

“It’s just one of those places where men dare not go.”

“Fine, I’ll dump it out on the table. But I want you to do this. Now put that damn military thriller away, get your ass in the chair and start writing.”

“Okay, but there’s one major flaw with your plan.”

“What’s that?”

“How many editors will take a look at a romance novel written by a guy?”

“Well, that redhead you saw today sounds like she seemed open to it. And who says they have to know the author is male? Look, your first name is also a popular woman’s name. Or you could use a pen name. There’s no rule that says any editor or publisher has to meet you in person.”

“What about book-signings? Am I supposed to dress up in drag like Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie?”

“You could pull it off. You’ve got better legs than Hoffman.”

“Again, funny.”

“Look, you told me yourself that they only do book tours for bestsellers these days, so I’d worry about that if you actually sell the thing and it takes off. At that point it will be a nice problem to have. Hell, you could even hire some woman to play the part.” She pointed to his laptop. “Chair. Now. Find that disc with Ring Girl on it ‘cause I wanna read it again. And you need to do the same.” He bit his lower lip as the story dredged up a bad memory. “Look, I know you’ve been terrified of getting close to any girl ever since that incident, but maybe if you write it with a ‘happily ever after’ ending it will help you get over your fear of women.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’ll write the thing.”

“Meanwhile, I’ve got some research for you in my bedroom.” She started to head down the hallway.

“What? I gotta go through your lingerie too?”

“No, I’ve got a bunch of romance novels and you need to read them to give yourself a guide. Get familiar with what women are looking for. You need to get acquainted with an author named Rose Fontaine.”

“Who?”

“Bestselling romance author of all time. And an incredible writer. Actually, she has a snarky style that’s a lot like yours.”

“Okay. You promise to help me with the girly stuff?”

“Honey, when I get through with you you’ll be able to get a job writing for Cosmo.”

Chapter 2 (#ua8c5db27-62a3-5d16-ade1-e484facbe01f)

Alex saw the email in his inbox from one of New York’s most powerful literary agents, but knew it was too soon for a good-news message to arrive. Rejections always came quick from agents and editors; half the time they responded so fast he wondered if they even read his work at all. Her request yesterday to see his full manuscript after sending a one-page query letter and synopsis had surprised him, but he hadn’t gotten his hopes up. Signing on with Bella Farentino was a serious long shot. Most of her clients could be found on any bestseller list. So he’d tempered his excitement, even though Juliette said her request was a major victory. Now, at six in the morning, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to start his day with bad news. He clicked on the email. “Oh, what the hell. Get it over with.”

Alex,

Your manuscript kept me up till three in the morning because I couldn’t put it down. Ring Girl is incredible! Lexi is an amazing heroine and I cannot believe how well you write male characters! Please contact me as soon as possible (hopefully before you call anyone else) as I would like to offer you representation. I note from your address you’re only a few blocks from my office, so I would love to meet you in person.

Sincerely,

Bella Farentino

He sat up straight as his eyes widened. “Oh. My. God.”

“You’re up early,” said Juliette, yawning as she headed from her bedroom to the kitchen.

“So are you.”

“Need that golden glow of the sun for this shoot. High def is not kind to those of us nearing our expiration dates.” She studied his intense look as she loaded the coffee machine. “What’s up? You’ve got that ‘reporter stumbling on a huge story’ face.”

“You know me too well and you’re right. Come look. This is better than any exclusive.”

She headed toward him, then looked over his shoulder and read the email. “Ho-lee shit. You got Bella friggin’ Farentino.”

“Only because you made me pitch her.”

“Maybe so, but you wrote a terrific book.” She leaned down, hugged him and kissed the side of his head. “Congratulations, I am soooo happy for you!”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. But I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Damn, your book is as good as sold with her. Please remember me when you’re rich and famous.”

“Meanwhile, did you catch the last line of the email?”

“Yeah. Guess the cat is about to be let out of the bag as far as the agent part of the deal is concerned.”

“I thought you said no one would ever have to meet me.”

“Well, then you shoulda moved to California or used a mail drop way out of town. It’s an occupational hazard for a writer living in New York City with an agent around the corner.”

“So what do I do?”

“I’d loan you a dress and we could do the Tootsie thing, but I don’t think you’re my size.”

The office of Farentino and Associates was exactly what he’d expected. The reception area something out of House Beautiful, with rich mahogany library paneling, deep-brown leather chairs and a huge antique oak desk in the center. An attractive thirtyish brunette with horn-rimmed glasses sat behind it, looking all business in a high-necked red silk blouse as she manned the phones that were ringing off the hook. The wall behind her featured a massive gold logo surrounded by posters of book covers from famous bestsellers.

All agented by Bella Farentino.

Alex paused at the door, tried to exhale some tension, straightened his tie and walked to the desk, arriving just as the receptionist had finished a call. She looked up without a smile, probably worn away by writers trying to sneak past the gatekeeper.

“May I help you?” she asked in an emotionless tone with a typical New York death stare.

“Hi. Alex Bauer to see Bella Farentino.”