Murder in the Paperback Parlor by Ellery Adams

together.”
    When Lachlan didn’t respond, Jane worried that he’d found her remark foolish.
    â€œMs. Jane.” Grabbing her hand, he enfolded it within his larger one and started to raise it.
    Is he going to kiss my hand?
Jane thought, too stunned to move.
    But Lachlan didn’t kiss her. He lifted her entire arm and used it to direct her attention toward the side of the ballroom. “Look. Someone’s breaking the rules.”
    Jane spotted Taylor Birch holding her cell phone in front of her face, her mouth curved into a smug smile.
    â€œDamn it,” Jane muttered angrily. “The girl isn’t going to live to see Valentine’sDay.”

SIX
    From her position behind the hostess podium in the Madame Bovary Dining Room, Jane was able to keep a close eye on Taylor Birch.
    After Lachlan had pointed out the young woman’s flagrant disregard of Storyton Hall’s restricted technology policy, Jane had descended the stage stairs, marched over to the publicist, and asked to speak with her in the hallway.
    Taylor had tried to pretend that she’d just forgotten about the policy and claimed that it was instinctual for her to capture images and video during Ms. York’s appearances. Unmoved, Jane had given her a choice: Taylor could either surrender her cell phone for the rest of the day or pack her bags.
    â€œYou can’t do that!” Taylor had spluttered.
    â€œYou signed an agreement weeks before your arrival,” Jane had patiently reminded her. “I will return your phone after the truffle demonstration. Until then, I’ll keep it locked in my personal safe.”
    Taylor’s shock had quickly turned to indignation. “But I have to post these photos to Facebook.”
    â€œI’m sure that can wait until this evening.” Jane had held out her hand, her expression firm.
    Her mouth contorting in anger, Taylor had slapped the phone against Jane’s palm. “Do you realize Ms. York has thousands and thousand of fans? How do you think they’d react if I told them how the manager of Storyton Hall refused to let me document Ms. York’s visit?” Taylor lowered her voice. “Don’t you see what I can do for your resort? If I post photos of Ms. York eating cake in the Agatha Christie Tea Room, sipping a cocktail in the Ian Fleming Lounge, or dancing in the Great Gatsby Ballroom, your bookings would skyrocket. Why ruin such a golden opportunity for us both?”
    Jane had bristled over the initial threat, but as she continued to listen to Taylor, she had to admit that the young publicist’s argument had merit. Hesitating, she’d returned Taylor’s phone. “All right. Post what you have so far, but do not take this out in public again. Do you understand?”
    Flashing a wily smile, Taylor had nodded and returned to the panel.
    Now, the publicist sat at a large table in the center of the dining room, feverishly taking notes. When Taylor glanced up to nod encouragingly at her dining companions, Jane noted the deep crease between her brows.
    I wonder if Ms. Birch’s dining companions are sharing how they feel about Ms. York’s new book
, Jane thought.
    As for Rosamund York, she was having lunch with Nigel Poindexter in a secluded nook. Per Jane’s request, the hostess had placed reserved signs on the two tables nearest the author, thereby creating a buffer between her and the rest of the diners.
    â€œPeople are staring daggers at Ms. York,” the hostess whispered, breaking into Jane’s thoughts.
    It was true. Jane saw several women raise their advanced reader’s copies of
Eros Steals the Bride
in the air, give the book a violent shake, and cast hostile glances in Rosamund’s direction. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice.
    Gazing around the dining room, Jane saw the other three authors seated together at a table near the back. They were also shooting hateful looks at Rosamund. “I wish