Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“It’s on me,” he tells me.
“Not necessary,” I remind him. “Now, tell me. Why me?”
He chews on his lip, his eyes lazily raking over me. I would give anything to know exactly what he’s thinking, what he sees.
“You can keep a secret,” he says after what seems like forever. “You’re ambitious. You’re talented. And, well, I need your heart.”
I blink at him, trying to process it all. “You need…my heart.”
“You can’t have the sex without the love.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh man, what planet are you from, and what have you done with the real Blake Crawford?”
“I’m not saying it’s true in real life, but I’ve done my research, and when it comes to romance novels, it’s needed. No matter how dirty or nasty it gets, if it’s a stepbrother screwing his stepsister,” I wrinkle my nose at that, “or a teacher fingerbanging his student during class, there has to be love or it doesn’t work. If you don’t deliver the happily ever after, it doesn’t matter how many holes she gets filled or how many orgasms she has.”
“And you’re saying you need me to write the romantic cheesy shit?”
“Fuck knows I can’t do it.”
“Well, I can’t do it either!”
“Have you tried?”
“No,” I tell him, my mind briefly flitting to thoughts of Luthwen and Phenelope. “And like I said, I have no interest in it.”
“So fake interest,” he says as the waitress brings our drinks. He gives her a quick wink, she smiles slyly at him, and it does something vile inside me. Is he hitting on her in front of me?
And, jeez, when did I think that was a problem?
His eyes dart over to me and he frowns. “Something wrong?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, other than your proposition. You of all people should know how hard it is to write something you actually care about. I can’t imagine how painful it would be to write about something you don’t like.”
“Funny,” he muses to himself, looking away. “Thought you would have been up for a challenge.”
“Writing with you was a challenge,” I point out.
“Until it wasn’t.”
I inhale deeply, holding my breath in my lungs, trying to get some clarity. I don’t want to commit to this idea that’s really nothing more than a harebrained scheme, but at the same time…
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he says. He brings out his phone and taps something out. My phone immediately beeps.
I frown and bring it out of my purse. He just sent me an email. “What’s this?”
“I made you an official proposal. A business plan. About time I put those classes to use.”
Jeez. He really is serious. Even with the hopeful gleam in his eyes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so serious before, even when he was grappling with plot problems in The Heart Thief.
“I can’t believe you made a business plan about writing smut,” I tell him, putting my phone away and planning to look it over later.
He shrugs, squinting at the sun that has shifted again. “I’m serious about making money and potentially changing my life for good. What can I say?” Now he’s shielding his eyes with his hand.
“Here,” I tell him, bringing my cat eye glasses out of my purse. “They’re prescription but they’ll at least help with the sun.”
He grins his thanks, and as he takes them from me, for a split second, our fingers brush together. But unlike the few times it’s happened before, I can swear it’s deliberate. His finger practically strokes mine, and his eyes pin me down. Fire travels up my arm, right into the thick of me.
I really should stop drinking around him. And, really, my reaction means I shouldn’t write with him either.
He slips my sunglasses on and his mouth drops open. “Bloody hell, woman, are you blind as a bat?”
“No,” I say defensively, even though the sight of him in my glasses is pretty ridiculous. “I’m nearsighted and only by a little bit.” He doesn’t have to know by how much. “That means—”
“I know what nearsighted means,” he says. He takes the glasses off, blinking hard as he slides them back on the table. “I think I might be cross-eyed now.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“You’re going to have to write most of the book then.”
I sigh. “Just…let me read over the proposal and I’ll let you know.”
“It would be better if you read it now.”
“Why?”
He wags his brows. “Because I’m a lot more persuasive in person.”
He’s right, which is exactly why I need to be away from him to make a sound decision. Writing self-published erotica with Blake can only lead to one thing and I’m too afraid to find out what it is.
Blake is still staring at me, waiting for an answer. The drinks are getting to my head, making it easier to just give in, but I have to stay strong.