The author is the goddess of her made-up world. Everything in it—from the characters to the story to the settings—come from her imagination alone. Therefore, she should be solely in control of everything that happens in her book.

Or that’s the theory anyway.

“I don’t think so,” Edward drawled. He’s the hero of my book, The Raven Prince. Edward was leaning, legs and arms crossed, against the wall in my study. He looked very out of place in his severe black coat and waistcoat and muddy jackboots. At the moment he was frowning at me, black brows drawn together ferociously over obsidian eyes and an over-long nose. His black hair was pulled back into a simple queue—it wasn’t even powdered.

I’d just suggested that since his story is set in eighteenth century England he really ought to be wearing a wig.

“Have you ever worn a wig?” he inquired irritably.

I shook my head.

“They itch. Also, they get in the way when I ride about my estates and inspect the crops. No wig.”

I pointed out that the wig wouldn’t get in the way if he stayed on his horse.

Edward snorted. “That’s no way to find out how the land is faring. What kind of man only rides by the crops? A silly prig, that’s what. I am not a silly prig.”

I sighed. Edward de Raaf, the fifth Earl of Swartingham, was most definitely not a silly prig, but I thought privately that he was a stubborn ass.

“I heard that.” He glared at me.

I apologized, then tried wheedling. Your best friend, Simon Iddesleigh wears a wig.

“Ha!” Edward exclaimed. “That merely proves my point. Iddesleigh is a silly prig if I ever saw one.”

He is not! Simon is a very elegant gentleman—

“He wears red-heeled shoes, too,” Edward muttered. “I can’t think why you put him in the book in the first place.”

Well, he does help you out at a very important—

An explosive snort interrupted me. “I could have gotten out of that spot of difficulty all on my own, thank you very much.” He suddenly brightened. “Now, if you want to make your book better, you ought to look to Anna.”

Anna Wren, the heroine? What’s wrong with her?

“Nothing!” Edward glared. “Did I say there was anything wrong with Anna? Perfect in every way and I’ll plant a fist in the face of any man who says otherwise.”

Well, then, what—?

“Anna is opinionated.”

And?

“Too opinionated for her own good. Especially with me.” Edward leaned forward as if imparting a confidence. “Sometimes I think she enjoys arguing with me. Is this ladylike, I ask you?”

So you would like me to make Anna agree with you more?

“Exactly.” Edward looked self-satisfied.

A husky feminine voice spoke from behind me. “I don’t think so.”