Cover Girl. Nic Tatano
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of powerhouse romance editor Keira Madison are accompanied by a single tear. It’s clear that six months after the tragic death of bestselling author Rose Fontaine, she’s not recovered from the event that turned her professional and personal life upside down. Her famously sharp wit has been understandably dulled a bit, the turquoise eyes surrounded by a constellation of freckles seem less full of life. And while losing the woman she considered her closest friend has been emotionally devastating, Madison must put her feelings aside and focus on what seems to be an impossible task.
Finding a writer who can capture the romance market in the same way Rose Fontaine did. In many ways, it’s like trying to find a new best friend.
“Her voice was so unique, and her plots were damn clever,” said Madison. “Readers could never anticipate the endings of her books. Her work was never formulaic and she always came up with something new. So many writers do the same book over and over while just changing the characters. With Rose, each book was unique, each one had its own formula. Every time we released one other authors tried to copy that formula, but no one ever could.”
Madison and Fontaine began their publishing journey together, she the rookie editorial assistant fresh out of college and Fontaine the young author looking for her first break. Madison found Fontaine’s manuscript for Soul Mate in what is known as the “slush pile”; a place where unrequested manuscripts go to die. Together they watched it become the bestselling romance novel of all time. Madison acquired the nickname “Cover Girl” since she came up with the concept for one of the most famous book covers in publishing history and continued to inspire Fontaine’s other dust jackets. Soul Mate sold more than forty million copies and was developed into a hit movie, making Fontaine incredibly rich while rocketing Madison up the publishing ladder. The “Rose of Romance” as she became known now has more than 200 million copies of her books in print.
“We were both new to publishing, the same age, and had a ton of stuff in common,” said Madison, voice cracking. “We just clicked and became incredibly close in a short time. Since we were both freckle-faced redheads people thought we were related, and it felt like we were. For thirteen years she was the sister I never had. I miss her terribly.”
While the two shared common interests and a tight personal bond, Fontaine would never let Madison peek at her works-in-progress. “She never gave me a concept, an outline or a synopsis. She wanted me to be as surprised as the reader so I never got a manuscript until it was finished. Which is one of my problems with her last book. She had one chapter to go and I have no idea how it was going to end. I’ve read it three times and can’t figure it out. Neither can anyone on our staff. And even if I did figure it out, I’d have to find a writer who could copy her unique voice to finish it. Good luck with that. So right now it’s sitting on my desk and I doubt it will ever be completed. It would be a wonderful legacy for her because it’s a spectacular book, but it’s in limbo.”
Meanwhile, revenue for the publisher has dropped considerably without the best-selling author cranking out two books each year.
“Every day I come to work hoping I won’t hear it, but someone always says it. We’ve got to find another Rose. And I have to resign myself to the fact it may never happen. I keep thinking of that line from Shakespeare. A rose by any other name wouldn’t smell as sweet.”
Gretchen Beckett, who hated her full name and insisted on being called Gretch, was the perfect assistant for a romance editor. Keira smiled as her right-hand girl entered her office and handed her the morning mail. Keira studied Gretch’s face, hoping for a smile from the spunky woman who was the clearing house for gossip in the publishing office. A grin meant someone on the staff had read something wonderful and Gretch would be chomping at the bit to tell Keira first.
Alas, no smile.
“How was your weekend?” asked Keira, not really asking about her personal life.
Gretch shrugged. “Four smoking-hot men with zero personality.” The curvy twenty-eight-year-old doe-eyed brunette snapped her ever-present chewing gum. “Sorta like the guys I usually date.”
“Those aren’t dates, Gretch, they’re exercise.”
Her assistant sat, her short leather skirt riding up on her thigh. “Hey, girl’s gotta scratch an itch.”
“Yeah, and you’ve got sexual poison ivy. So, did you read all four books I gave you already?”
“I tried to read them. Just like the Mets, oh-for-four. Didn’t even get out of the batter’s box. Swing and a miss for the golden sombrero.”
“The what?”
“When a batter strikes out four times in one game, it’s known as getting the golden sombrero.”
“Oh.” Keira looked down at the legal pad which held her notes on the books in question. “What was wrong with Tryst in the Mist? The synopsis sounded great.”
Gretch twirled her long necklace as she blew a bubble. “Well, said tryst pretty much missed. Foreplay was about two paragraphs. The actual tryst was one. And the writing wasn’t up to your standards. See Dick chase Jane. See Dick nail Jane. See both light up a cigarette. The end.”
Keira ran the pencil down the pad. “How about the erotic one, Seduction Place?”
“If I lived on Seduction Place I’d move out due to the lounge lizards. It read like a bad porn movie from the seventies. All I needed was synthesizer music while I was reading.”
“You’ve been watching late-night Cinemax again, haven’t you?”
Gretch smiled as she shrugged. “It saves me from actually talking to my dates and it’s a convenient method of foreplay. Worth the ten bucks a month.”
Back to the legal pad. “The sweet romance… Down the Aisle?”
“I left the writer at the altar around halfway through. Big time head hopper. Honestly, I didn’t know whose point of view I was reading, and it would change in the middle of the scene like one of those body-switching movies. When the priest said ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace’ I actually yelled ‘Stop the wedding!’.”
Last one. “Man-a-holic sounded like a funny rom-com.”
“I’d be an alcoholic if I had kept reading. Not a single laugh in the first ten chapters. Lotta rom, no com. Sorta blows the hell out of the premise.”
Keira shook her head and exhaled. “Anyone in the bullpen excited about anything the morning?”
“Nope. But I’ve already got the two trainees digging through the slush pile, so you never know what you might find.”
“Don’t I know it.” Her mind wandered back to her first days at the publishing house, when she pulled Rose Fontaine out of the massive pile of manuscripts. She couldn’t help but smile.
“What?”
“I was just thinking, before electronic submissions we actually had a slush pile room that was filled about six feet high with real paper manuscripts. It looked like something from one of those hoarding reality shows. One day the pile fell over while I was sitting on the floor reading and it actually buried me in an avalanche of paper.” The phone interrupted her thoughts and the name she saw on her cell made her eyes widen. “Holy shit, it’s Bella Farentino.”
“And she only calls when she’s got something good. Put it on speaker. Gretch wants to listen.”
Keira sat up straight. Gretch leaned forward as she answered the call and engaged the speaker. “Hi, Bella!”
“How’s my favorite romance editor?”
“I’d be better if I found the next big thing.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. Seriously, how