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A hush falls over the crowd.
“H-how?” Sylvie’s voice shakes. It’s the most emotion—aside from outrage—that I’ve ever seen from her. “H-how did she die?”
I feel a wave of guilt and step forward, ready to reveal the truth, but Ruthanne doesn’t miss a beat. “She went as any great romance author would want to—tangled in the sheets with her true love.”
I choke back a laugh.
“You’re a real comedian, Ruthanne.” Sylvie takes the magazine she’s holding and slaps her friend on the arm. When she raises it again, Tabs tenses.
“Please be careful with library material, Sylvie,” she cries.
Sylvie straightens the magazine in question and rolls her eyes at Ruthanne. “I almost fell for your little skit, you know.”
The teenage girl who said I was Batman pipes up, “So Abigail Cameron isn’t really dead?”
I didn’t peg her for a historical romance reader, but I’m well aware that some of my Abigail Cameron fans are quite young. And I can’t let them, or anyone else, think Abigail Cameron is dead.
I step forward again, sure my publisher would prefer to reveal I’m the face behind Abigail Cameron’s name rather than announce that she’s dead.
“Abigail Cameron is very much alive,” I announce, “and she will be hosting her book launch for The Duke’s Prize right here at Maple Valley Library.”
Tabs gasps. So does half the crowd. Then everyone erupts in applause.
At least that buys me some time.
And with my woman back in my arms, the world suddenly seems to make sense again. All I care about is that Tabs and I are together. I can face any challenge as long as she’s by my side—and that includes revealing my secret identity.
I take her hand in mine, lead her away from the crowd, and pull her in for another kiss. At the other end of the library, Jane begins the latest episode of Book Talk with Byron, but I drown out her words as I focus on the woman in my arms.
This moment, right here, is all that matters. And it is a thousand times better than the happy ending I wrote for The Duke's Prize, which is pretty epic, if I do say so myself.
TABITHA
One Year Later
I look up from my spot on the couch and catch my husband staring blankly at his laptop. Again.
It’s been six months since our wedding, and I still feel all warm and fuzzy inside every time I think of Cam as my husband. I so love that word. Husband.
But now that I know about his pen name, I’m even more obsessed with the Abigail Cameron books. “Did you finally figure out the chapter?” I ask.
Instead of nodding, he frowns. "You literally just asked me that.”
"That was hours ago.” I gesture at the library book in my hand. “Fifteen chapters and two sex scenes.”
Cam smirks. “Are you saying I have literary competition, Wife?”
I roll my eyes. “You know I only read other books to distract myself until you can feed my Abigail Cameron addiction.”
Cam sighs dramatically. “When my editor said I wrapped up their relationship too soon in The Duke’s Prize, that I should draw it out, I figured ‘piece of cake,’ I can write five more books in the series. But without you as my muse for the reluctant Gabriella…” Cam trails off.
“I’m sorry that letting you claim me is making it harder for you to write. But I'm not sorry that you did. So… sorry, not sorry?”
Cam gets up from his desk. “Writer’s block isn’t nearly as hard as it was not having Gabriella all to myself.”
“My Duke, take advantage now since you will have to share me one day soon.” I run my hand along my still flat stomach. “And I believe our young Duke will be making some claims of his own.” I press my breasts together as if they’re being pushed up in a corset.
Cam settles on the couch next to me and pulls me onto his lap. “Or Duchess.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head.
