When You Dare - Lori Foster [47]
“How do you know?” Chris asked.
“Trust me, readers make sure you know when you’ve let them down.”
Chris noticed that she didn’t look overly hurt by that.
“They reach authors through online reviews, emails, written letters. And that’s a good thing, just not so fun when there’s so much of the negative stuff.”
Dare sat back in his seat. “How’d the book do with all that reader disgruntlement?”
“Great, actually.” In an effort to explain to them, she leaned forward, elbows on the stone bar. “With every book, there are good reviews and bad reviews, rants and raves, readers who love it and readers who hate it, and a whole bunch of reactions that are in between those extremes. You know the old saying where you can’t please all the people all the time. The same goes for reviewers and readers.”
Dare didn’t look convinced. “So it wasn’t a big deal?”
“Well, it was a big deal to me, at least in some ways. Given the level of anger over it, I’m sure I lost some longstanding readers. No matter what, I hate to disappoint anyone, but I especially hate to let down loyal readers who’ve been reading me from the beginning.”
“Bummer,” Chris said.
“But…” She lifted her shoulders. “I also gained new readers and expanded my audience. Truth is, if I had it to do over again, I’d do it exactly the same way, because I have to write a story the way it wants to be written, not the way readers want me to. That’s how my muse works. If I fought that natural process, I’d probably never get a book done, and I probably wouldn’t be as successful.”
Still not entirely sure he understood, Chris told her, “Good for you.”
“The level of anger you mentioned,” Dare said, bringing the conversation back around to possible suspects. “Give me an example.”
A little embarrassed now, she glanced away. “There were threats, with people wanting to beat me up, people wishing terrible things would happen to me. But most of it was posted online for all the world to see, so I can’t imagine that anyone was serious. They were just letting off steam. In a way, it’s really a compliment.”
Chris stared at her. “How the hell do you figure that?”
“If the reader wasn’t so invested in my characters, it wouldn’t matter enough to get angry over it. Right?”
“If you say so.” Dare left his seat and headed for the computer. “Where can I find this stuff on the Net?”
Aghast, she said, “You’re going to look at it right now?”
“Why not?”
“Well…” Again she looked at both men. “Okay, call me vain, but I don’t really want you to see all the bad stuff said about me or my books.”
Chris couldn’t help but grin. “Think we’ll get the wrong impression?”
“Of course you will.” She left her seat to rush after Dare. “Seriously. There’s no point—”
They both stopped next to Chris. Dare touched her chin, lifting her face up and silencing her at the same time. “You promised to trust me and to do as I said.”
“Sure. But you don’t know anything about this industry.”
“No, but I understand you, and you’re worried that I’ll feel sorry for you.”
She drew back, surprised.
Chris wasn’t. In most instances, Dare was damned astute. But in this case, things were pretty obvious. Molly didn’t want sympathy after the ordeal she’d suffered, so of course she wouldn’t want it over a few internet slights.
“Look,” Chris said, “if you said it’s routine to get slammed on occasion, I buy it. What section of the entertainment industry doesn’t get hammered on a regular basis? And besides, you have a book being made into a friggin’ movie. How awesome is that? You’re a star, and regardless of what a few reviews might say—”
“Over three hundred reviews.”
Dare lifted both brows. “Seriously?”
Chris blew it off. “Whatever. You’re still a resounding success.” Rather than drag out the suspense for her, he turned back to the computer. An internet search of her name brought up plenty of hits. “Bingo. Found some sites.”
Molly went rigid. “Fine, you two want to see all the gory details, go ahead. But you can do it without me. I’m going to bed.”
She was almost through the kitchen doorway when Dare said, “Molly?”
Shoulders still