The sexiest romance writer on earth … that’s how most of the world views my newest client.

As for me, I view him as the only guy to ever stand me up on a date. I loathe him.

I don’t care if he’s still charming, if his smile still makes my heart patter faster, or if my body thinks we should give him another chance. It’s not going to happen.

Hero Quinn is my client, and spending two weeks with him on his book tour to save his reputation is more than enough for me.

I’m a smart woman and I’m no stranger to temptation. Which is exactly why my career saving plan is to set him up on a string of blind dates that I, his marketing manager guru, will share with his following. At the end of the two weeks, he will pick one woman to see again and viola, he’s out of my hair and I can move on.

Of course, plans never go the way we want them to. Between the time we’re forced to spend together and that kiss where he pressed me against the wall, the lines begin to blur. And boy do they ever.

Dating clients goes against my rules, but it doesn’t change the fact that when this is all over, I still wish I could be the one he picks to see again.

Tropes for The Write One include small town, enemies to lovers, steamy slow burn, second chance, and forced proximity.

Available Now!

****

Chapter One

Hero

A cold beer, some sun, and good friends never hurt anyone.

Especially not today. It’s a good buddy’s birthday. The guys and I all finally have time to get together and relax. And just minutes before I got here, my agent let me know that the rumor in the publishing world is that I’m in the lead to receive the award for author of the year.

Author of the year.

God, I can’t even think about it without grinning like a fool in love. I’ve wanted this since my first book hit the shelves a decade ago. Of course, I won’t know for a couple more months if I’ve won. The winner is usually announced a week before the annual Lovers Convention. It’s hosted by Lovers Magazine, or L-Mag as it’s commonly known. They are the biggest company in the romance publishing world. If you want book talk or book gossip, L-Mag is where you want to be.

Their reviews have turned no-name authors into best sellers, and they’ve also tanked a career or two. Still, the Lovers Convention is the biggest reader and author event of the year. The first part is full of workshops for authors, and the last two days are one giant book fair for readers where they can buy books and meet their favorite authors. Pictures are taken, memories are made, and awards are given.

To me, hopefully.

I think it’s safe to say that at this point, knowing I’m officially in the running to win, I’ll do anything to seal that title.

“Hot damn, you did it again.”

I chuckle, sipping my cold beer as my closest friend and one of my writing critique partners, Zane, clamps a hand on my shoulder.

“What a surprise,” he goes on sarcastically. “I was worried that this book wasn’t going to be a best seller. Were you worried?”

He’s referring to my latest release. At this point in our lives, when doesn’t he tease me about my books? If anyone hits the lists as often as I do, it’s Zane. A little friendly competition is good.

I shake my head and point at my watch with the neck of my drink. “You’re late.”

He waves his hand between us. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh yeah, and whose fault was that?”

He grins. “That would be the guest I had over for the afternoon. You know the tall, leggy, and—”

“Afternoon?” I ask, cutting him off and letting out a slow breath. “I have no idea how you do it.”

My schedule has always been tight, and from what I know about my good friend, his is too. I’ve yet to manage balancing success and a love life. It really does amaze me how he does it so effortlessly.

“Um, I do. It’s called I write romance. You should try it sometime, since, you know, you write romance too. You know every little move and action a woman craves. Put it to use in real life.”

I don’t judge Zane and his choices, but I just can’t do what he does. I’m a one-woman kind of man. Well, I would be if I had a woman. Like I said, I’m busy. Potential award winner here, and I didn’t get here by not working hard. If anything, I’m dating my deadlines.

“That’s not my style and you know it.”

He laughs. “That I do know. You’re the deep POV writer of the group. The one who really tugs at the heartstrings.” He clutches a hand to his chest to drive his point home. “The one who rips your heart out before they put it back together with just pages to go.”

I can’t help but smile. His interpretation of my writing style is both accurate and impressive.

“Oh, please. And what does that make you?” I ask.

“The slow burn.”

I burst out with laughter as Zane leans down to grab a beer out of the cooler by our feet. I glance around at our friend Tobias’s backyard and the people I’ve met in passing or don’t know.

“Are the others coming?” Zane asks, nodding toward the house.

“Last I checked they were. They never miss Tobias’s annual birthday BBQ, so you know they will be here, but they’ll be late. It’s the same for all of us these days: everyone has a busy schedule or deadlines to maintain. I still can’t believe that Tobias decided to have this get-together. He’s behind on a book that was due two weeks ago and has been submitting chapters by the day. He needs to have the last three turned in tonight.”

Zane shakes his head. “I’d shit a brick if I even came close to a deadline. This is exactly why we plan. Then again, Tobias thrives off pressure.”

“That he does.”

I’ll never forget the day I met Tobias. He’d been sitting outside our creative writing class, his fingers speeding across his laptop right outside the door. We had a paper that was due as soon as we walked in the door, and he was still writing it. I was so appalled; I stopped to talk to him. Clearly, he didn’t care about being done on time and yet, when he looked up at me with a grin and pulled a portable printer out of his bag, I couldn’t help but admire his determination. I was sure we were polar opposites, but from that day forward, we started meeting up weekly to talk about writing. We were the first of our group. We truly thought we were just a random pair of guys who chose to write romance, but slowly, our group formed and now there are six of us.

“Do you know her?” Zane asks and points with his beer.

I glance over my shoulder at the blonde who just walked through the side gate.

“Nope.”

“You’d think that after living here for as long as we have that we’d know more people.”

I sip my beer, nodding. “That’s the problem with being a writer. We get holed up in our houses for long periods of time.”

“Are you sure you don’t know her? You’ve lived here longer than I have.”

It’s a fact. Tobias and I are actually the only two of the group who actually grew up in Wind Valley, Wyoming. We lucked out that the college here had a badass English writing program. Plus, the college here has a direct link with the state university, so it was nice to get a degree without the big fancy school and sorority and fraternity distractions. Not to say that we didn’t do our fair share of partying, because, boy, did we. It was a bit much at times, but it was nice to keep things low key for the most part. The others in the group followed suit after college and planted roots. It’s the perfect place if you want the bar scene, an outdoorsy life, the city feel but still have peace and quiet. It’s a one-of-a-kind place to live.

“Yep, I’m sure,” I answer after one more look.

“Where is the birthday guy, anyway?” Zane asks, pulling out his phone and opening his text messaging app.

“Inside with Natalie, last I saw.”

Zane groans. “Those two should just date already.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone sees it but them. Their time will come.”

Knowing Tobias, he won’t be the first to admit it. Really knowing him, he will wait until the day Natalie is at the church steps ready to say I do to some lucky man before Tobias figures it out. He’d wait for the last minute to feel the pressure.

“Oh, don’t look now, but the birthday boy, his best friend, and her best friend are approaching.”

Her best friend? Who is Natalie’s best friend other than Tobias?

I turn around to look, then spin right back around.

Holy shit.

Nora Grayson is here.

Without moving a muscle, I look for any exit that will get me out of here before she spots me. Chances are, she already has, but we haven’t made eye contact, so I might stand a chance.

My heart beats faster and my palms sweat.

Is she back for good? Just visiting? Why didn’t anyone mention this to me?

“Are you okay?” Zane asks.

I nod but swallow back the dry lump in my throat.

Fuck. I don’t have time for this.

“You could try harder at faking a smile,” Zane says under his breath.

“This is the best you’re going to—happy birthday, man,” I recover quickly and clink my beer against Tobias’s.

He hands both Zane and I another drink and smiles.

“I’m glad you guys could make it. Our schedules suck this year. How many books are you putting out, Zane?”

“Too many to count.” He shakes it head. “I need to average about a book every six weeks to stay on track.”

I let out a long breath. “I do not envy that deadline schedule.”

My eyes glance briefly to Nora’s. Like always, the piercing blue gaze that looks back at me hitches my breath. She squints and then looks away, taking a drink of her beverage. Water.

She would be the one to drink water at a party. Not that there’s anything wrong with not drinking alcohol, but she always found a way to stand out.

“Hero, I can’t believe you had another release this week. What is that? Four already this year and it’s only the first week of June?” Natalie asks. She nudges Nora’s arm.

“Yeah, way to go,” Nora says deadpan.

Nora doesn’t like me in the slightest. But as crazy as this is going to sound, well, Nora is what I call my unicorn. She’s the girl I had the chance to be with and blew it. Like, I blew it before it even began. So now, when I’m around her, it’s a mix of nerves and terror. Hence why I can’t stop staring at her and also want to flee.

As far as I know, she’s been living in LA for the last three maybe four years, so I haven’t seen her much despite her family living here. Truthfully, I was certain the situation between us would change eventually, but it seems it hasn’t.

I’m still stunned to silence by her eyes, by her long, strawberry blonde hair that shines under the sun, by the way she still smells like peaches, and how just being near her makes me feel like I’m running out of air. Don’t even get me started on the fact that she’s clearly traded in her signature maxi dress look for short spring dresses with white sneakers.

Once upon a time I was counting down the minutes until I saw her again, and then … I wasn’t.

“Hero, did you hear me?” Natalie says, waving a hand in front of my face.

“Huh?”

“Your book, are you thrilled it hit the charts?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“It’s not like it’s a surprise,” Tobias says through a laugh. “Hero is an anomaly. He wrote one crazy love story and put it out for the world to read and it became a best seller within a week. Now, everything he writes just hits higher and higher on every list.”

“Ooh, is someone jealous?” Zane asks.

“Hardly,” Tobias says just as Beck walks up to the group.

Beck is our resident swoon writer. We all write what I’d like to think are swoon-worthy books, but no matter what kind of character he puts in his stories, I swear his readers swoon harder for him as a writer than for the people in the actual book. I’ve read a lot of his novels, and I won’t lie, they are the words of a man searching for love if I have anything to say about it. I think his readers can feel it.

“Sorry I’m late,” Graham, the clean romance writer of the group, says as he arrives. Simon “I write what I want when I want because I’m a single dad” comes up right behind him.

“My sitter ran late,” Simon says.

And that’s our group. Romances writers to the core, but all-around normal guys if you ask us.

“I plan for this party to go pretty late, so I wasn’t worried,” Tobias says. “Let’s go grab a beer.”

When Simon, Graham, and Tobias head toward the house, Nora grabs Natalie’s arm. “I’m going to take off.”

“No, why?” Natalie whines. “You just got here.”

I turn my attention toward Zane, who is reading something on his phone, but I can still hear them loud and clear.

“I know, but I have work to get done, and I want to get ahead before the movers get here with the rest of my things on Monday.”

So she’s moving back?

“Fine. You’re lucky we now have endless days to see each other.”

“I do find myself pretty lucky,” Nora says with a laugh that reminds me of the night I met her our sophomore year of college. I’d heard her laughing behind me at an off-campus party, and when I turned around and we locked eyes, I knew I’d never forget this girl.

And I haven’t. Funny thing is, I’m sure she’d do anything to forget about me.

“Night,” Nora says, leaving Natalie with Zane and me as she lets out a sigh.

“So, Nora’s back in Wind Valley, huh?” I ask.

Natalie fights a smile as she stirs her blue drink. “She is.”

“That’s cool.”

“It is cool.” Natalie’s face lights up. “I missed her, and I’m pretty excited to be working with her again.”

“Oh, right. Tobias mentioned that she went off on her own a few months back. His online presence has been on fire since she started representing him. He’s pretty pleased.”

That’s an understatement. All the guys, except me, use her for marketing. Last I heard, she had a waiting list for new clients.

Now, it helps that my friends and I all have the same agent, who oddly enough, is Nora’s cousin. And to be fair, Doug has never asked me if I wanted to hire her. Honestly, I’m glad he hasn’t, because I know she would say no. I’d rather never ask than have her turn me down.

“Holy shit,” Zane says, his arms reaching toward me, but flinging around as he grabs the attention of more people than I think he was intending to. “Holy shit!” His voice grows higher with each word.

“What’s going—?”

“Get your phone out. Get your phone out!” he shouts.

Natalie and I share a confused look, but we both do as he says. Zane never gets this excited over anything. What he’s about to tell us is either amazing news, like his latest series was just picked up by Netflix, or it’s bad news that none of us want to hear.

As soon as I unlock my screen, my phone starts to ring.

“It’s Doug.” I show him my phone to justify why I can’t join in on his reaction to whatever it is he has on his phone.

 Zane looks at me with wide eyes.

“Dude, you aren’t going to like this.”

I don’t have enough time to process the pity on his face before he’s thrusting his phone at me.

“Hello,” I greet my agent, but the next word hangs in limbo as I look at Zane’s phone and read the review from Lovers Magazine.

There is no doubt about it, folks, Hero Quinn knows how to suck you in with a great romance. Yet, despite the well-crafted characters and vivid descriptions, I can’t help but feel that the heat between the hero and heroine of his latest novel has fallen flat. It was as if a robot were controlling them. A robot that has never fooled around even once in its life. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but perhaps this romance writer extraordinaire has lost his touch due to a lack of romance in his personal life. Dare I say that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love, or even lust? Better luck next time to this favorite author of mine.

What in the ever-loving hell is this?

Chapter Two

Nora

Organization is key.

I cross my legs, placing my laptop on the computer table in my lap. My TV is directly behind me, so that I can hear the noise but not be distracted by the screen. On my left, I have two notebooks, one for each client I’m currently working on, and my row of colored highlighters is to my right. A different color holds a different purpose. Finally, I have three black fine point Pilot pens right next to the highlighters. It’s going to be a late night, but I am going to cross task after task off my checklist as if I were eating Barbeque Baked Lays and watching Bridgerton.

Needless to say, I’m ready.

I wasn’t always like this, but college was the eye-opener I needed. I always knew I wanted to work with marketing and social media. To have the ability to reach someone’s mind so deeply that they follow you or buy a product fascinates me.

I’m twenty-nine years old and have won awards for my skill. I’m a very wanted woman, and because of this, I’m more than grateful that I’ve been able to work my job from any location in the world. It’s a big reason why I chose to move back home to Wind Valley, Wyoming. LA was great, but it’s busy and loud.

That’s what’s so perfect about Wind Valley. I get to work the big-city job and live in a not-so-big city town. It’s not a small town by any means, but sixty thousand people give me a lot more breathing room than millions. Hiking trails are minutes away, a lake with one of the country’s most elite lodge is just a couple hours away, and we get all four seasons. Five if you feel like giving the wind its own.

A warm early June breeze flows through my back door and over my face. I smile at nothing and let out a breath. It was nice being outside celebrating Tobias’s birthday earlier. If I didn’t have so much work, I would have stayed. I definitely chose the right time to move back. Had I come back in the midst of winter, I might be rethinking the whole thing.

I blow out another sigh. If only my patio furniture were here already.

How is it still this beautiful after the sun has gone down?

But this right here, the peace and calm, is what I love about Wind Valley.

I dive into work, scheduling out the next month for one client and creating a Facebook versus Instagram proposal for another. Really, though, both reach a different type of audience, and both would make a great choice. Yet this customer wants to use only one.

As soon as I’m finished with those, I grab another notebook and get to work.

The book tour season is about to begin, so my workload to make sure I keep authors’ readers up-to-date is higher than normal.

I still can’t believe I landed the Atlas deal. They are a major publishing house that was like finding the gold at the end of a rainbow. I’m honored that they picked me as their main marketing manager. It’s a hefty workload, but I can handle it.

I’m still flipping through my notes when my phone rings.

It’s almost ten, so there is only one person it could be. My assistant and best friend Natalie. They say you should never hire your friends, but this is the one case where that rule doesn’t apply. If it weren’t for Natalie, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

She’s probably calling to tell me what I missed at Tobias’s BBQ. I could use the break.

“Hey, Natalie,” I answer without even looking at my phone.

“Of course you’re still awake.”

“If you thought I was sleeping, why did you call?”

“Because I was just leaving Tobias’s house and you missed something I thought might be of interest to you.”

A smile touches my lips as I shake my head. Tobias is Natalie’s other best friend. She met Tobias in college—he and his friends sparked the idea for what I should focus my career on, although to be fair, I never enjoyed hanging out with Tobias’s friends much. One in particular I still don’t care for, but the point is, Natalie and I were roommates, and she was always gushing about the books these guys wrote before they were even published and therefore suggested I look into specializing in the publishing industry.

Her idea had merit and here I am, working with writers in any genre.

“You called me at 10 p.m. to gossip?”

“Basically, yeah. It’s about Hero.”

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge between my eyes. Just hearing his name raises my body temperature. And not in a way that I want. I’m fully aware that I shouldn’t still hold any type of emotions toward this guy—college was years ago—but it’s hard. I thought I’d have a week or so to warm up to the idea that I’d see him around town eventually, but then he was in the backyard. Standing there all gorgeous as ever. Typically, I like a guy with a good buzz haircut, but Hero has grown his out a little. It’s not long by any means, but it’s definitely long enough to run my hands through it. God, and it looked softer than mine. I’m annoyed that I wanted to touch it. And the facial hair, ugh. I liked it.

I swear tonight was the first time I realized he had blond hair or that he was at least six feet tall. Then again, everyone is tall to my five-five height.

And the way he makes jeans and a simple black T-shirt look irritates me.

Hero is attractive. That’s probably why I still get worked up at the thought of him. It’s not fair to be cruel to someone the way he was to me and still be that good-looking. It’s just not.

A part of me sort of hoped I’d get as lucky as I did growing up. You know, when Hero and I grew up in the same town, went to different schools but didn’t meet till college. Guess I’m not that lucky this time around, because unlike my childhood, I’ll be seeing him a lot. I blame Natalie. She just had to be besties with one of his friends.

“What about him?” I ask, getting back to the conversation. I really do have more work to do tonight. “And how is this of interest to me?”

“The L-Mag just gave him a bad review.”

I take my glasses off and move my computer table off my lap. “What?”

“Yeah, you heard me. A bad, bad one.”

“Send me the link.”

I move my computer to my kitchen table because this is serious table work stuff. A bad review from Lovers Magazine is not the end of the world, but it’s definitely not good.

I open my email and double-click the link.

“Holy shit, Natalie.”

“I know. I feel bad for him.”

“This is …”

“Bad.”

So bad. Everyone in our industry knows he’s up for author of the year, and this review could keep him from that. Not that I care if he wins it or not.

Still, he needs a good spin on this. Something fast. If he has a girlfriend, now would be the time to announce it. Damn, I could get lost with ideas on how to fix this.

“It’s being forwarded around nonstop. I even saw a meme already,” Natalie says.

That’s how famous Hero Quinn is in the writing and reading community. People love you when they love you, but they aren’t afraid to take you down.

“I can’t believe they just referenced his personal life like that. He could have a girlfriend.”

Natalie laughs. “Please. That man is just as dedicated to his work as you are, if not more.”

And that is the only redeemable trait, in my eyes, he has going for him.

He shouldn’t be punished for that. No one should. But it isn’t like I’m going to say that out loud to Natalie and defend him.

“Maybe when you see him in the morning at the coffee shop, you could say something to him. Check on him.”

“Me?” I choke out. “Who says I’m going to see him tomorrow in the coffee shop?”

“I do because that’s where you want to meet in the morning, and I have it on good word from Tobias that Hero goes to the coffee shop every Sunday morning to write. He needs a change of environment from time to time.”

“Well, we share a favorite coffee shop. That’s fine. But you know what we don’t share? Conversation. Ever.”

“You two used to talk all the time.”

“No, we did not.”

“Whenever the group was together, the two of you would talk.”

“We’d argue. There’s a difference.”

“Well, still, it might be nice coming from you.”

I let out a strangled noise, and Natalie sighs into the phone. “Will the grudge you two have for each other ever fade?”

“Unlikely.”

“He stood you up on a date like seven years ago, Nora.”

“So? He never once apologized, and the next time I saw him, he was making out with some other girl. He clearly has no respect for women.”

Truth be told, I wasn’t even mad at him for kissing someone else. I deserved better. I deserved an explanation. I didn’t get either but instead of just moving on, I decided that hating him worked better than accepting that the one night we spent together, the night I swore we had a once-in-a-lifetime connection just before he asked me out, wasn’t real. It’s so stupid too. No girl should ever waste her time or energy on a man who clearly doesn’t have enough respect for her to even send an “I’m not going to make it” text.

“So are you telling me you’ve never read one of his books?”

“No, I haven’t. Why would I?”

That would be nothing but torture. Confirming that he clearly knows how to write a character who can treat a woman right but can’t apply it to real life? Not for me anyway. No thanks.

“Nora, you do know he’s known for writing a strong female lead, right? Like, there are even theories going around that it’s really a woman who writes his books and said woman just uses Hero’s face for a physical presence.”

I had heard that, and I thought it was a joke.

“Doesn’t matter. Hero made his impression on me, and he has yet to make a different one.”

“Fine, okay. Moving on …”

Natalie moves on to a new topic, but I don’t hear her because the text that comes through captures my attention.

I groan.

“It’s not that big of a deal. You could say no.”

“What?”

“The wedding this weekend. You know, your brother and my sister. We are about to become real family to each other. Did you get your dress back already, or do you want me to pick it up for you this week?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I got it. I was groaning because James texted me again.”

I really should have used a different Realtor when I was house hunting down here, but his family has the best reputation. I would have thought he’d have moved on from me by now. Shoot, I was gone for years.

“Oh no. You have to talk to him, Nora.”

“I know. Just not yet. So how was the rest of the party?” I quickly change the subject.

Natalie fills me in on how laidback it was and how she’s missed being around that group when they are together. She also fills me in on how Tobias was hanging out with everyone but stealing five minutes here and there to type at the laptop he had open at his kitchen island.

To each their own style, I guess.

We hang up, planning to meet up in the morning. With movers coming and cable guys, etc. this week, I don’t really have any time other than Sunday to meet.

Which brings me back to the coffee shop in the morning. Will I mention something to Hero if I see him?

As a member of our shared industry, I feel for him. As a woman who desperately wants to move on from a man who made her fall for him one night only to break her heart the next, nope. I’ll probably pretend I don’t even see him.

Chapter Three

Hero

His cock was huge.

It was so big that I could barely wrap my fingers aro—

“Wow. This is pure shit writing.”

Twenty minutes and that’s all I’ve written … and now deleted.

I jam the delete button until my computer screen is nothing but a blank white page. The same damn blank page that has been mocking me every day for the past few days. Sit down, stare at a blank screen, and repeat.

Today is no different.

I’ve written hundreds of sex scenes in my career and yet, today, my creative brain can’t come up with anything other than the typical giant cock and groans and “yes, more. Do it again, harder” dialogue.

My editor is going to kill me. If I can’t shake this feeling, I’m going to turn into Tobias, with Doug breathing down my neck. I’ve never missed a deadline, and although I still have more than a month, this could be a first for me.

I click out of the Word doc and back to the L-Mag’s review of my latest release, which I now have bookmarked on my computer. Talk about personal sabotage. Cringing, I scroll down to the review that started this entire downward spiral of not writing. I have the last few lines memorized at this point.

This brings a thought to mind and it’s a hard pill to swallow, but perhaps this romance writer extraordinaire has lost his touch due to a lack of romance in his personal life. Dare I say that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love, if anything, in lust? Better luck next time to this favorite author of mine.

Fuck me.

I slam my laptop closed.

It doesn’t matter that in the week since it’s been released, I’ve had a few thousand reviews or ratings with a ninety percent five-star average.

Nope. No matter how many times I read that one critic, the annoyance and anger I feel doesn’t lessen.

They didn’t write a book. Do they even know what goes into a sex scene? The details. The edits. The rewrites. Where the hands go and when, how fast the hero or heroine moves their hips. Who’s going to talk dirty and who isn’t. That’s not even all of it.

“Okay, time,” Graham calls out, and the consistent clicking of keyboards that had filled my living room comes to a halt.

I look up.

Unlike me, my group of friends all have pleased smiles on their faces.

“You know, it’s a good thing we’re all used to your outbursts during these writing sprints.” Zane doesn’t even look up from his computer as he speaks. He’s still typing away.

“Isn’t that the truth? I almost lost focus when he slammed his computer, though.” This coming from Beck.

“How many words did you get, Hero?” Tobias asks.

“Zero.”

Simon shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you were reading that review again.”

I toss my hands up in the air.

“I just don’t understand how that’s the conclusion they came to. I mean, they could’ve written anything. ‘Great love story but the sex was boring or not as steamy as his last’—anything else. They basically told the entire world I’m not getting laid.”

Zane snickers, and Beck tries to hide his grin. The others just look at me with pity.

“At least they left a review.”

Typical Graham, turning every negative situation into a positive one.

“Not to mention that you even finished a book and published it within the last year.”

I nod at Simon, who has been suffering a mad case of writer’s block too.

I know. I get it. I should still celebrate my accomplishments and not let some person I’ve never met ruin my success.

I can basically kiss author of the year goodbye.

Fuck.

I thought this book was my best yet. I need to focus on something else. Stat.

“Enough about me. Simon, did you get through that fight scene you wanted to finish today?”

Listening to my friends share that they are still on track with their goals might be just what I need to forget about this review.

“Sort of, I guess. Thank you for asking.”

“What about you, Graham? The meet cute go all right?”

“It’s brutal, but I’ve got something there worth editing.”

“Good.”

We go around the table, talking about strengths and weaknesses of the words we did, or rather didn’t, write during our sprints today. We meet every Wednesday at 6 p.m. to share the scenes we want to write before the night is up, and then we do three twenty-minute sprints with twenty minutes breaks to discuss or help anyone with a scene they are stuck on. After our sessions, we make goals for the days we are on our own.

Typically, this is my most successful night of the week. It has been since we all met. It’s a dream job, and we’re all living it.

“Thanks again for letting us meet at your house, even though I’m sure you wanted to do anything but write tonight.”

Beck slaps me on the shoulder as he passes me for the front door where the rest of the group has already stepped through. I hadn’t even noticed that they all packed up to leave.

I guess we aren’t going to keep this meeting going tonight. It’s probably for the best. My mind isn’t in the right place, anyway.

“My house is always available.”

“Look, I know you’re upset about that review, but you know you’re a phenomenal writer. Try to move past it.”

“And if I can’t?”

I rub the back of my neck. I’ve never been this hung up on a review before. I don’t really know how to navigate it.

“Prove them wrong.”

“Sure. Yeah. Every writer’s motivational dream is to write a book solely to prove a critic’s review wrong.”

He chuckles.

“At least think about something else long enough to enjoy Natalie’s sister’s wedding this weekend.”

“I will.”

I’m already banking on the vibe of the day to revive my romance writing ways.

“I’ll see you at the wedding. And submit that damn proposal already. Your publisher can’t sell books for you if you don’t tell them what you’re writing next.”

He flips me his middle finger as he heads for his truck.

I close the door and retreat into my now-empty house.

Prove them wrong.

My schedule doesn’t exactly have the timeline to just toss in another book into my writing schedule to serve this purpose, but I don’t exactly see another option. I can’t come this close to winning the biggest award in my industry just to lose it to one shitty review. There must be a way to redeem myself, and another book is by far the easiest choice.

I don’t need a relationship or a merry-go-round of women at my door for sex in order to write a good book.

Do I?

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