When romance author Delu Morris is troubled with unexplained panic attacks, she seeks help from a doctor who’s researching dream-therapy. He explains that he’ll accompany her into her dreams to revisit her memories and to try to uncover if an event from her past is causing her trouble now.
His grad assistant is a handsome Scotsman who wears a kilt the first time he meets her. She’s intrigued, but they remain at arms’ distance while he’s a part of her therapy team. When she discovers that only he can make the machine work, he confesses that he’s the 7th son of a 7th son, and the Unseelie are using him for some unknown reason. When he touches the controls, he pushes a wee bit o’ magic into the machine to make it work.
Will they discover together what her long-lost memory is? Or will the guilty person manage to keep her from that discovery—for good?
The line was long, and the people, some of whom had been waiting for hours, were getting restless.
“What’s taking so long? I’ve been here for over two hours! She’s up there signing books, right?”
The woman in front of the complainer was taller. “Yes, she’s up there. But people are making conversation with her, instead of just having her sign the book. And some have brought older books too, so she’s signing more than one for lots of them.”
“That’s totally not fair! It said it right in the rules on-line that she would only sign her newest book, and only if you bought it here.”
A professional-looking woman strode purposefully along past the line of readers.
Recognizing her, the taller woman addressed her. “Hey, you work here, right?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, I’m the manager. What can I do for you?”
“It looks like some of the people up there are having Ms. Morris sign more than one book. Your directions on-line clearly stated that she would only sign one book per reader.”
The woman frowned as she looked up toward the front of the line. “That’s what I was afraid of. She’s too nice. One of my employees was up there to be sure that didn’t happen, but she just went on break. I’ll soon put a stop to that. So sorry for the inconvenience.” With a quick nod to those in line, she turned and walked quickly up to the front of the line.
“What’s she doing?” The shorter reader was still not able to see anything.
“She’s leaning over talking to Ms. Morris. Now she’s talking to the person who has multiple books lined up for signatures. I really like the manager. She knows when to take charge of a situation, and she doesn’t take any crap from anyone.”
“Hurray!” Many of the others in line nodded when the line started to slowly move again.
With the manager right behind her, the author resumed signing only one book per reader, and the two who had been so impatient soon had their chance to chat briefly with the author as she signed their books. Both graced the manager with huge smiles as they walked away, happy with their new treasure.
* * * *
Naomi stood up to stretch her tired muscles. The line was much shorter now, but she’d been signing books for so many hours that her hand was cramping. And her cheeks felt the strain of smiling non-stop. “Just give me a minute, okay?” She implored the older woman who was next in line.
She nodded, smiling. “Anything for you, Ms. Morris. I’m a huge fan of your books! When my husband passed away two years ago, they were the only thing to keep me from total depression. There will never be another man to replace my Hugh. But your heroes at least remind me that there are men like them around…even if just in books.”
Naomi nodded with a grin. “I’m glad that you had a good man. I still haven’t met the one yet. I’m getting tired of warts on my lips from all of the frogs I keep kissing, trying to find Prince Charming.” She smiled as she sat back down and picked up the pen again.
“Just you keep on looking, honey,” the reader replied. “A gorgeous woman like you, with such a romantic soul, deserves the very best kind of man. One who will appreciate you for the jewel you are.”
“Do you know my mother? Or my grandmother? That’s what they keep telling me. To whom should I dedicate this book?”
“My name is Elaine.”
Naomi spoke out loud as she wrote. “To Elaine, who had the good fortune to have had Hugh as her husband. May she find another good man for the second half of her life. Love, Delu Morris.”
“Oh, thank you, Ms. Morris! And I’ll pray for you to find the man you’re looking for…maybe very soon.”
Naomi’s eyes sparkled as she nodded, then turned to the next person in line.
*
Another couple of hours had passed, and the line was much shorter, but there were still people waiting, books in hand. Suddenly a man’s loud voice cut through the ambient noise from the crowded store. He was haranguing a woman at the back of the line.
“How long do you expect me to wait around with my thumb up my ass? You know I hate waiting around. And I especially hate bookstores.”
“Go out and have another smoke, Jerry.” The woman he was talking to shifted nervously around from one foot to the other. “This is the shortest the line has been all day.”
“I know. You’ve been making me walk past this damn store for hours. If you’re not done and outside by the time I finish another smoke, I’m leaving and you can have that author give you a ride home. Or you can walk.”
“You can’t do that! It’s my car.”
“Just watch me, bitch.”
She grabbed the man’s arm to detain him, and his temper appeared to snap. His hand drew up as if he was going to slap her.
Naomi felt hot. Her heart was pounding as blood rushed quickly through her veins. The hand holding the pen began to shake, and she realized, to her horror, that she was sliding into a panic attack.
“What’s wrong?” The reader who was next in line asked.
The manager peered into her face. “Are you all right, Ms. Morris?”
Naomi shook her head weakly. “No. I think I need to leave...right now.” She stood up and felt the room move as she held onto the table to stop herself from swaying.
