Page 36 of Words of Love
Chapter 9
Sam looked up sharply at Brooke’s quick intake of breath. His heart stuttered. She was standing near the blanket fort, staring at a sheaf of papers in her hand.
Hismanuscript pages.
“Don’t bother with those.” He strode quickly toward her. “I’ll deal with them.”
She was still staring at the title page, which prominently displayed the wordsTripwire: A John Kane Novelby Sam Harris.
Brooke lifted her head, her eyes widening. “Sam Harris? Is thisyou?”
A rock fell in the pit of his stomach. He searched his brain frantically for an explanation, and all he could manage was, “The…um, I’m a copyeditor.”
As if she’d believe that.
She looked at the title and author name again, then suddenly smacked him on the arm with the papers. “This is your secret, isn’t it? You’re Sam freaking Harris.”
No one had ever said that to him before because no one knew.
“You do know that Bliss Cove residents have been speculating about more than just your love life.” Brooke shook her head in disbelief. “You’re in witness protection, you’re a double agent. Aria thinks you’re the royal prince of a small European country in disguise. Darker imaginations have wondered if you’re everything from a serial killer to a money launderer. But I swear, not a single person has wondered if you’re secretly the famous author of an internationally best-selling series of thriller novels.”
Sam tried not to wince at the effusive description. “I’m not—”
“Nowonderyou’re such a recluse!” Brooke began pacing, her whole face lighting up with sudden delight. “This is why you keep such weird hours at the bookstore, isn’t it? You’re always going off to write. And why you never take part in any town events or date anyone. When I started my Brooke’s Books column atThe Gazette, I got the whole‘Who is Sam Harris?’package from your publisher before I reviewedStone Cold…favorably, I might add…and it’s like you’re a combination of Lemony Snicket and JD Salinger with the anonymity and mystery.”
She paused to take a breath. “I mean, it’s a huge part of your publisher’s marketing campaign, right? You never do book tours or in-person interviews, your fan groups are always speculating about who you really are…and I remember once your publisher was going to do this whole ‘The Revelation of Sam Harris’ thing, but for whatever reason, they scrapped it. Why did they do that?”
“The executives got cold feet.” He collected the rest of the papers from the floor. “They were worried if people knew the truth, they’d lose interest in my books. So they wanted to keep the mystery going.”
“And the revelation of your secret would be a huge coup.” She nodded vigorously. “If that rumor ever started in Bliss Cove, it would totally make its way toThe Gazettestaff.”
Sam tightened his jaw. That right there was the reason he’d avoided her for all these months.
He didn’t care if people knew he was “an author,” but if people discovered he wasSam Harris, his publisher’s entire marking strategy would collapse. He was a good writer, but he also knew the value of a smart publicity campaign, and this one had been unexpectedly successful.
For ten years, only three people had known his true identity—his agent, his editor, and his lawyer. He’d intended just to be a pseudonymous author, but early in his career, a reporter had nosed around trying unsuccessfully to get an interview with him.
The reporter had then published a scathing article about his efforts to communicate with the “pretentious and ungrateful Sam Harris,” which the publishing marketing team had spun into a campaign about the “mysterious and enigmatic Sam Harris.”
The mystery had suited the tone of his books, and speculation had quickly taken root in fan groups and with reviewers. Soon the “Who is Sam Harris?” campaign had become part of both the overall marketing and his public persona. With every new release, the gossip and speculation rose to the surface again, fueling both sales and his popularity.
Though at first he’d thought the whole thing was silly, he’d come to highly value the anonymity and subsequent privacy. He’d been able to travel, to visit dozens of cities and towns, to not be tied to anyone or anything. He’d never had to answer questions about his family or why he rarely saw his brother anymore.
After ten years, no one had discovered Sam Harris was really Sam Donovan—which was saying something in a world so connected by technology. Not for anything did he want to give up his anonymity.
“This is the granddaddy of all secrets, Sam.” Brooke waved the title page. “I’m afanof your work. I’ve read the first five John Kane books.Huntsmanwas probably my favorite. I cried when Elijah died after he and John rescued Patricia…I didn’t see that coming from a mile away.”
She spread her hand over the manuscript. “That’s just one of the things that makes you such an amazing author, the way you throw these curveballs that keep the reader in such suspense. And yet everything is so well thought-out, like how John’s father ended up marrying the woman from the…sorry for fawning, but I love good books.”
Sam cleared his throat. Discomfort needled him. He didn’t mind hearing such praise from Brooke—in fact, he liked it a lot—but he’d hated the idea of being in the spotlight the way his brother was. Unlike Lincoln, who’d never hidden behind another name, the mystery of Sam Harris had protected him.
“I appreciate that, thanks.”
“That friend of yours…the Whistling Dixie woman…” Brooke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Was she your editor?”
Her reporter nose was working overtime now. Sam sighed. “That was Lynette Hanover, my agent. She was visiting from New York last fall.”
“Ah.” She nodded as if that made perfect sense. “Where did you live before you came to Bliss Cove? Did you move there because you wanted a quiet place to write?”