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But then he ruined it by adding, “Maybe your grandson would like this.”

Then he reached out and drew a coin from Frannie’s ear. He didn’t seem to notice that as his hand neared her face, Frannie ducked instinctively, as I had, leaning away from him.

“Ta-da!” he cried, presenting the coin to her. “An officialDark Magic Schoolnumber eleven commemorative guild piece! I’m sure your grandson will love it.”

“I’m sure,” Frannie deadpanned as she dropped the “guild piece” into her purse. Frannie disliked being touched by strange men as much as I did, even strange men who claimed to love her husband’s books.

Her husband, however, was delighted. “Hey, that’s really neat, Garrett!” Saul cried. “Show me how you did that.”

“Aw, I can’t, Mr. Dean.” Garrett winked at the rest of us.“A good magician never reveals his secrets. But stay tuned. I’m going to perform a trick at tomorrow night’s dinner that’s going to knock everybody’s socks off.”

Saul chuckled. “Neat!”

I made a mental note to stay as far away as possible from tomorrow night’s dinner. I’d had about as much “magic” as I could take in a twenty-four-hour period.

Frannie appeared to be thinking the same thing, since she sidled up to Bernadette and me to whisper, “What is wrong with this guy?”

“Hmmm-hmmm.” Bernadette pretended to fuss with a strand of her purple hair. “From what I hear, quite a lot.”

I pretended to fuss with my own hair. “Like what?”

“People say he’s a player.”

Frannie and I glanced at each other, then at Garrett, then burst out laughing.

“For real,” Bernadette insisted. “The rumors were all over Novel Con last year. A bestselling male author was hitting on female fans.”

That caused both of us to quit laughing.“What?”

“It’s true. Whoever the guy was, he apparently had a real way with the ladies.”

I stared at Garrett as he pulled a coin from Saul’s ear, giving him a slow-motion demonstration of his trick. “Well, it couldn’t have been Garrett. Look at him. He’s wearingflip-flopsto a donor dinner.”

“True. But you could see how to an inexperienced, impressionable young woman, he might seem... impressive.”

I still couldn’t believe it. If there was one rule in the publishingbusiness—besides not to plagiarize—it was that you never,everslept with fans.

Oh, it was all right tosocializewith them, as long as you kept things on a strictly professional basis. I’d had many lunches and even a few dinners withKitty Katzfans, sometimes because they’d won a meal with me at a charity auction or occasionally because they or their parents had reached out in some way—a reader who was ill or depressed or simply needed a dose of Kitty love or advice, something I was always happy to give. Even at my lowest points this past year and a half, I was able to throw on some lip gloss and get in a cab or online and try to make one of my adorable Kitty Klub members feel better.

But there was never any physical contact except maybe the briefest of hugs, especially if they were underage. That was Professional Writer 101.

“How did I not hear anything about this?” I demanded. “I was at Novel Con last year, and no one said a word about it to me.”

“No, you weren’t,” Bernadette said. “You were at Novel Conthe year before last.You skipped it this year, remember? And you wouldn’t have heard about what happened there because lately you’ve had your own drama to deal with.”

I nodded, unoffended. Nothing she was saying was untrue. The Nicole Woods scandal and subsequent fallout with Will had kept me off anything except my own social media pages for months. I hadn’t wanted to read anything publishing related. And following quickly on the heels of that had been my breakup with Justin and all of Dad’s medical drama.

“ButIwas at Novel Con this past year with Saul,” Frannie said, “and I didn’t hear a word about any of this.”

“It was mostly on Twitter,” Bernadette said.

“Oh,Twitter.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “No wonder we didn’t see it. Our son handles all of Saul’s social media for him. But are you sure it washim?” She glanced at Garrett distastefully. “He’s hardly Chris Hemsworth or Evans or whoever that Chris is all you girls always seem to be talking about.”

Bernadette—who had no interest in any of the Chrises—shook her head. “No, I’m not sure. But it’s not about looks, Fran. To a naive fan, someone like Garrett might seem glamorous. He could promise them things—a meeting with his editor, a role in his next film. The rumors were that it was a number oneNew York Timesbestselling author who had a new movie coming out—”

I gasped. “But that could be anyone. That could beWill Price.”

“It wasn’t Will Price,” Bernadette said. “I know you hate him, Jo, but the rumors all said it was an author ofyoung-adultbooks.”