“I like a little mystery,” he starts, leaning back onto the soft cushions of the booth. “Plus, it helps my sales when people know less about me. I’m a biracial man writing in the romance genre, and a lot of the men who came before me really fucked up the road to travel for guys like me. Men don’t pay enough attention to detail, so when they write books, especially erotic books, they miss key components. Their vocabulary isn’t diverse enough either, so the way they describe women is horrible. They neglect foreplay and all of its importance, and they write like they’re trying to recreate some of the porn they’ve watched. Women hate that, and as a result, women hate male romance writers. The more I’m able to hide, the better chance I have of women reading my books.”

“But your name is on your books,” I say with a frown, not understanding his logic. “As soon as they see Nathan Booker on the cover, they know it’s a man.”

Nathan shakes his head and presses his thick lips into a thin line. “True, but even that is part of the façade. My name isn’t even Nathan.”

“What?” I bark a little too loud. Thank goodness for the spaciousness of this section. “Your name isn’t Nathan?”

“Nah. It’s Nasir,” he says, sending me reeling. “The people who know me best call me Nas for short.”

“What the hell?” I blurt out, “I’ve been tricked. We’ve all been tricked! Why not put that on the cover?”

“Because I’m a biracial man writing romance,” Nathan … Nasir replies. “Let me make this simple. How many men do you know who get recognition for being great at writing romance? Particularly spicy romance?”

I frown. “Not many, if any.”

“Right. Now how many Black men do you know who get recognition for writing romance?”

I frown even harder this time, and that’s when I get it. “None that I can think of.”

“Exactly,” Nasir says.

“Wow. That’s why you don’t let people take pictures of you at your signings,” I realize out loud.

“Nobody wants to be judged prematurely,” he says. “I do what I have to do to give myself the best chance at being accepted and recognized for my writing.”

I find myself nodding my head as it all dawns on me. There’s more to Nath—Nasir than people know. He’s deeper than people realize, and I feel special because he let me in on this little secret. He’s not just writing to make people horny. He wants to be accepted, and he’s even willing to drop his own name to achieve recognition.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say.

“Thanks for asking the question,” he replies. “You sort of pulled that one out of me.”

“I guess I did. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”