Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
However I did it, I needed to keep the fact that my heart was beating like crazy a complete secret. I could not have him know that he affected me like that.
“What on Earth makes you think that I’d write about you for a second?” I asked, crossing my arms again in my best defiant pose. “You know I’m a fiction writer, right? I have a history of writing romance with members of the upper class. My last hero was heir to an earldom, so it’s not unusual that I’d pick a duke this time. As for the location, well, it speaks for itself. This place is beautiful, and I am absolutely ripping it off for my novel.”
His lips twitched to one side.
“As for the heroine, I like to vary my characters, so if she’s a bit on the curvy side like me, that’s just the way the cookie crumbled for her. And the black hair, blue eyes thing is hardly unique to you, so that’s all your ego.”
That was quite the speech for someone who was lying through her fucking teeth.
“I’m sure you were attempting to tell me all the ways I was wrong, but you’ve protested so much you’ve outed yourself.”
I figured that was the case.
Not that I’d tell Max that, mind you.
He took a step closer to me and held up his hands. “Does this book have an escapee cat who likes goat barns?”
I glared at him. “I don’t think you’re funny.”
“Well, one out of two isn’t bad.”
“Still not funny. Don’t you have anything better to do? I have words to write, so I’m going to ask you again to leave.”
Max nodded, and his smirk was firmly in place on his stupid, handsome face. “I’ll leave, but only because I have some goats that need cleaning out. That doesn’t mean we’re done with this conversation, Ellie.”
“Oh, I can assure you we are very done with this conversation, Max,” I shot back.
He closed the distance between us once again. My heart thundered against my ribs, but he didn’t even touch me.
He dipped his head so his lips were close to my ear. His exhale made my hair flutter, and he said in a low, sensual voice, “Oh, we’re not. We’re not even close to being done talking about this. If you didn’t want to talk about it, you shouldn’t have written that library scene.”
I inhaled sharply.
“That’s what I thought.” Max pushed away from me and met my gaze for one last time before he opened the front door and disappeared through it, letting it swing shut behind him.
I dropped back onto the sofa and buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t believe he’d read it. I couldn’t believe he’d connected all the dots or that I’d been so freaking obvious in what I’d written.
Sure, I’d have edited it out later and made everything a little less obvious. That’s what other drafts were for. The first draft was for brain-farting everything out, and that was what I’d been doing.
Oh, why’d I have to leave that laptop open? And why’d I have to write that sex scene before bed?
Stupid, stupid, stupid Ellie.
I groaned and leant back on the sofa. I fully believed him when he said we weren’t done talking about it, but I wasn’t sure what there was to talk about. How was I supposed to explain it all?
Yes, oh great and handsome Duke of Windermere, you are my muse, and I did leave your library last night thinking about snogging you against a bookshelf and banging you on the window seat overlooking your rose garden.
How the hell did anyone say that and not sound like a complete and utter fucking weirdo?
I did the only thing a girl could do.
I texted my best friend.
ME: Code red
Megan’s reply was instantaneous.
Wasn’t she supposed to be working?
MEGAN: What did you do???
ME: Don’t you ever work?
MEGAN: You said code red. Would you like me to wait for lunch?
ME: No! I’m in so much trouble!!!!!!
MEGAN: Spill it. Now.
ME: Max is my muse and my setting is based on Windermere and Winston escaped this morning and he brought him back and read my manuscript. INCLUDING THE SEX SCENE.
MEGAN: SHUT UP.
MEGAN: Why would you let him read it?
ME: I DIDN’T LET HIM READ IT THAT’S THE PROBLEM
MEGAN: Remember your punctuation, dear.
ME: MEGAN
MEGAN: All right, all right. So he read it. How? Did you leave your laptop open?
ME: Yes. I opened it to work, realised Winston was on his jollies, and went to look for him. I didn’t even close the door which is probably why he came in to check.
MEGAN: Oh, dear. You’re in a right pickle.
MEGAN: Are you writing all this down for a book?
ME: YOU ARE NOT HELPING
MEGAN: What do you want me to say??? You’re lusting after a guy you insist is a raging asshole to the point you’re making him your muse and fantasising about shagging him. If you ask me, you’re the problem here.