The truth was, while he had confidence in his cop credentials, as a novelist he still felt like an imposter. Despite the critical praise and stellar sales his first book had garnered, he couldn’t get past the fear it had been a fluke. That his subsequent efforts would tank.

So how could he weasel out of her request without losing face?

He crossed an ankle over a knee and offered the first excuse that came to mind. “I try to keep a low profile with my writing in Hope Harbor. That’s one of the reasons I use a pseudonym.”

“Charley doesn’t make a big deal out of his painting either—but everyone knows about it, and they respect both his careers. Being a taco chef doesn’t take anything away from his work as an artist, and vice versa. I don’t see why it would be any different with you.”

Checkmate.

He’d have to try a different argument.

“I’m not a teacher, Christi.”

“No one who’s presenting is. Marci told me it was a tough sell with Adam Stone too. You know him, right?”

“Yeah.” The ex-con married to the police chief avoided the limelight like the plague—for understandable reasons.

“But he finally agreed. Marci can be very persuasive, as you may know.” A touch of wry humor glinted in her irises for a nanosecond before she leaned forward, posture intent. As if she was poised for battle. “If Adam can do it, you can too.”

No, he couldn’t. He’d feel like a fraud, offering wannabe novelists advice. Heck, he wasn’t certain his own career would survive after his next book released. The mere thought of standing up in front of a roomful of people and pretending to be an expert was worse than an altercation with an armed criminal.

He couldn’t say any of that to Christi, though. It would be too embarrassing to admit being that insecure.

“Adam is a renowned furniture maker.” He folded his arms. “His work is well-known.”

“So is yours. You’re a New York Times bestseller.”

“For one book. I don’t have a track record like the other folks you mentioned.”

“No—but you’ve achieved a milestone I suspect most novelists would kill for. Pardon the pun, given the nature of the books you write.”

Her attempt at levity didn’t ease his tension.

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“All you have to do is talk about your career and how you work on a book—your routine, your research, tips you’ve learned. You could do a long Q&A. Critique samples the audience members bring or send beforehand. Do a writing exercise. We can structure this however you like.”

She was making it hard to say no.

“I think you missed your calling.” He tried to coax up the corners of his mouth. “You should have gone into sales.”

“Is that a yes?”