by Jae
Abby’s cheeks burned. Ouch. “Right.” Should she apologize for being an ass about Tamara’s chosen profession? But that would look as if she was trying to talk her into going out with her, and that wasn’t her intention at all.
“So think about what kind of person Gabby shouldn’t want to date, and you’ll be halfway there.”
Abby’s mind was already going a mile a minute. Gabby was a court reporter… She definitely shouldn’t want to date someone involved in a case, so maybe she could make Tina a witness in a murder case?
Tamara smiled. “I know that expression. You’re off in novel land. Go write.” With an encouraging nod and a wave, she ended the call before Abby could say anything else.
Abby stared at the screen, which now showed just her manuscript. Wait a minute! Tamara had said Abby was the last person she should want to date…not would want to date. Did that mean…?
She shook her head. You’re crazy. This romance-writing thing was messing with her head. Tamara had just used them as a hypothetical example. It didn’t mean anything. Sighing, she set out to rewrite the first three chapters.
~ ~ ~
The sound of Tamara’s keyboard strokes drifted through the open FaceTime connection. Abby had never thought she’d come to regard it as soothing, but now she did. It was like listening to the patter of rain on the roof on a summer night.
Rain on a roof on a summer night? Really? She arched her eyebrows at herself. You’re spending too much time with a romance writer.
Not that it felt that way. For the past week or so, they had gotten into the habit of being on FaceTime and keeping each other company while they worked on their respective novels. At first, it had been about Abby asking questions about the writing craft, but then they had started to talk about other things too—for example, about the fact that they were both single and living alone.
Spending time with Tamara was unexpectedly nice, even though it didn’t help her word count. Half of the time, she caught herself watching Tamara work instead of getting any writing done herself.
When the patter of Tamara’s fingers on the keyboard stopped for longer than usual, Abby looked up from her own scene. “Time for a break?”
“Looks like it.” Tamara sighed. “I think I’ve written myself into a corner.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“You? The person who scoffs at romance?” Tamara gave her that little smile that was teasing and slightly rebuking but never disparaging.
“I don’t mock it. I just think… Well, you have to admit that most of it isn’t very realistic.”
Tamara’s teasing smile broadened into a full-out grin. “Oh, and the science fiction novels that you like are? How is an alien invasion of earth more realistic than two people falling in love?”
She’s got you there. She had yet to win an argument with Tamara, but she was determined to win their bet. “But sci-fi is original, with intricate world-building and diverse plots, while romance novels… They can be a little, um, formulaic.”
“Oh, pray tell! There’s a formula? Why didn’t anyone tell me about that? I’ve been sitting here, racking my brain trying to solve my plot problem when all along I just needed to follow a formula! Care to clue me in?”
“You know what I mean. The HEA requirement… In the end, there’s always a happily ever after for the two main characters. They always end up together.”
“And that makes it formulaic?”
“Doesn’t it?”
Tamara held her gaze. “Every genre has its conventions and follows a certain basic structure. In your sci-fi novels, readers expect that the good guys always win the space battle in the end, and mystery readers would be pretty unhappy if the book ended without the crime being solved.”
Abby rubbed her chin. Maybe Tamara was right.
“The trick is to stay within that basic structure while still making the journey fresh and interesting for the reader every single time,” Tamara added.
“Hmm. And that’s what you’re struggling with?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. I’m halfway through the story. Up to here, everything is witty and fresh and entertaining, I think, and the characters are lovable.”
“And that’s a problem how?” Abby asked. “Isn’t that exactly what romance readers want?”
“Yeah.” Tamara sighed again. “But maybe my characters are a little too lovable. They have gotten to a point where there’s no logical reason why they don’t just give in to their feelings and jump into bed with each other.”
“As a wise woman once told me: you need more conflict.”
Tamara chuckled. “Maybe.”
“Or maybe you should just let them.”
“Let them what?”
“Have hot, steamy sex.” Abby gave a playful little wink, then sobered. This was how Tamara made her living. She wasn’t just writing to win a childish bet. A plot problem was probably a serious thing for her. “As the aforementioned wise woman told me, it’s okay to let the characters have sex early in the story, as long as it sets up an interesting conflict.”
Tamara stared at her.
“Bad idea?”
“No, genius idea! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Well, you did…kind of,” Abby said with a laugh. “So would that solve your problem?”
“I think so. Instead of resolving their tension, sleeping together could cause even more problems. Letting Lana into her bed will only make Claire more determined not to let her into her heart.”
Did she just say…her? A wild grin broke out on Abby’s face. I knew it! Her main character’s love interest is a woman.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I just didn’t know you’re writing a lesbian romance too.”
“I write whatever characters come to me—straight, gay, lesbian, whatever.”
Did that mean she was bi or pan in her personal life too? Abby had looked up her author’s bio, but it didn’t give any clues about Tamara’s sexual orientation.
The patter of keystrokes started up again.
Abby leaned back with a smile and listened for a moment before returning to her own story.
~ ~ ~
When her phone rang with a FaceTime call, the novel slid from Abby’s hands and smacked her in the face. Damn. I should have gotten the e-book. But then again, in that case, it would have been her e-reader smacking her in the face. Grumbling, she rubbed her nose, sat up on the couch, and reached for her cell phone to accept the call.
Tamara’s face appeared on the small screen.
At the sight of her, Abby couldn’t help smiling. “Hi. Are you done with your love scene?”
“Oh yeah. I’m working on the next chapter already. How about you? You said you want to have one in your story too. Are you done with it?”
Abby snuck a guilty glance at her laptop, which sat abandoned on the coffee table. “Uh, no, I got a little…distracted.”
“Oh.”
Abby’s cheeks heated. Oh Christ. Now she thinks I had to…get a little relief after writing a hot sex scene. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. I just did some…um, research.”
“Into how to write a love scene? Why didn’t you ask me for advice?”
“Well, I did. Kind of.” Abby hesitated but then lifted the novel she’d been reading into her phone’s webcam so that Tamara could see the cover.
“You’re reading one of my books?” It came out in an adorable squeak.
Abby nodded. For some stupid reason, she had resisted for almost an entire month, but she’d finally grabbed a copy of Tamara’s latest novel on the way home yesterday. Apparently, it was the only lesbian romance she had published so far.
“The entire thing or just the love scene?”
Abby had started out wanting to just take a look at how Tamara handled the love scenes, but then the writing had sucked her in, so she’d forgotten about her own love scene and flipped back to chapter one. “Um, the entire thing.”
“S
o?” Tamara sounded as if she was holding her breath.
“So?” Abby repeated, trying hard not to smile.
Tamara waved her fingers in a gimme-gimme motion. “What did you think?”
“Oh, it’s not bad…for a romance.” Finally, Abby gave in and allowed her teasing grin to break free.
“Uh-huh. So, if you think you can do better, let’s hear what you have come up with so far.”
Abby froze. That was how they had done it every night—with Abby reading her what she’d written that day and Tamara providing feedback—but reading this scene out loud…
Oh, come on. You’re both adults. And she does this for a living. It’s like undressing in front of a doctor. She tried to channel her objective reporter persona as she started to read what she had written so far. When she fell silent, she looked up expectantly. “How do you like it so far? Any good?”
Tamara cleared her throat. “Sorry to tell you, but… Nope. You didn’t nail it. No pun intended.”
“No?” Abby looked back at her manuscript. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, your journalistic just-the-facts-ma’am style might work for newspaper features, but for a love scene?” Tamara shook her head. “Too clinical. It reads like a biology textbook, not a romantic love scene. Focus on the emotions, not on the mechanics.”
Abby groaned. “Ugh. I was trying to avoid that sappy emotional stuff.”
Tamara playfully threatened her with her index finger. “Don’t start the romance bashing again. All books are about human emotions, not just romances. That’s why readers are reading novels instead of instruction manuals—to feel. If you can do that without resorting to sentimentality, you have a winner.”
Like Tamara’s book. Abby slid her fingers over the award sticker on the cover. Reading the love scene had certainly made her feel. She discreetly used the novel to fan herself. “I’ll try.”
“Just two more days,” Tamara said.
“No problem.” Abby put on her most confident expression. She would finish this novel, even if she had to pull an all-nighter or two. But first, she had a book to finish reading.
~ ~ ~
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… Midnight!” Tamara shouted through the FaceTime connection. “Stop writing. November is officially over.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like Cinderella at the ball?” Abby muttered while she finished typing her last sentence.
“If you are Cinderella, does that make me your fairy godmother?”
I’d rather you were my Princess Charming, Abby thought—and then froze. But it was the truth, she realized. Somewhere during the last thirty days, she had stopped contacting Tamara because she needed romance-writing advice and had starting calling her to enjoy her company, even if it was just online.
But all of that would change now that she was done with her novel.
“What happens now?” she asked quietly.
“Now you validate your word count by uploading the manuscript to the NaNoWriMo website,” Tamara said.
That wasn’t what Abby had meant, of course, but she dutifully copied her manuscript and pasted it into the validator box. She held her breath as she clicked validate.
“Aaaand?” Tamara bounced up and down on her office chair. “Did you make it?”
Abby peered at the laptop.
You won, popped up on the screen.
A muffled scream escaped her.
“You did it?”
“I did it! Fifty thousand, two hundred and eight words. I wrote a romance novel. Okay, a novella.” It was ridiculous how happy that made her. But then again, maybe it wasn’t. Finishing a novel, any novel, was an accomplishment.
Then why do you feel as if you’re about to lose something instead of winning? a voice in her head piped up.
Tamara grinned like a proud midwife who’d helped deliver a baby. Then she sobered. Had she, too, realized this meant the end of their nightly conversations? “Well, it seems you were right, then.”
“About anyone being able to write a romance?” Abby shook her head and lifted up part of her printed-out manuscript with Tamara’s red comments in the margins. “Nah. We both know this is far from being a publishable novel.”
“Well, it could be, with a little more editing.”
“You mean a lot more editing.”
“Okay, a lot more editing. But you’re talented.”
“Yeah?” Abby glowed under that praise.
“Mmhm.” Tamara glanced down for a second, then back up into Abby’s eyes. “So, you won the bet. That means you’ll get to pick the next book I write. Let me guess… I’m going to branch out into science fiction?”
Abby considered it for a moment. She would have loved to see what kind of futuristic world Tamara would come up with. But finally, she shook her head. “I want you to write a sequel to Wildfire.”
Tamara didn’t say anything. She didn’t move.
For a second, Abby thought the video connection might have frozen.
Then Tamara opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again and finally said, “You…you want me to write a romance novel?”
Abby grinned and shrugged. “Well, now that you finally got me to read it, I have to find out what happened to Ivy and Beth.” She licked her lips. “I…I think I owe you an apology. Well, you and the entire romance-writing industry. It’s damn hard to write a romance—at least a good one—and you are really good at it. So…well, keep writing.”
For several seconds, only silence filtered through her laptop speakers.
Abby peeked up into Tamara’s face, which had gone serious.
“There’s one problem with that,” Tamara said. “Wildfire already has a sequel. It has just been published.”
“Oh.”
“But as it happens, I have an idea for another book in the series. Just this time, the main character won’t be an arson investigator. I thought… Well, reporter heroines seem to be popular with my audience right now.”
Abby felt her tense features relax into a smile. “Yeah, I mean, what’s not to like about reporters? We’re smart, witty, and dedicated.”
Tamara chuckled. “Don’t forget modest.”
“That too.”
They both laughed.
“But since I’m a novelist, not a reporter, I might have a research question that I could use some help with every now and then…” Tamara gave Abby a hopeful look.
Did she mean…? Abby tried to play it cool—for exactly three seconds. Then she nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, sure. I could do that. I mean, help you with your research.”
“That would be great.”
They looked at each other. Was she just imagining things, or was there something searching in Tamara’s gaze?
Abby gathered her courage. “Do you think we could, um, meet in person? Maybe go out for coffee? Like, on a date? I, um, really would like to get to know you better.”
Tamara nodded without a second’s hesitation. “I’d like that.”
They smiled at each other.
“So, when would be good for you?” Abby said, halfheartedly trying not to sound too eager. “I mean, you can never start research too soon.”
“True. But first, you need to get some sleep. You look like you’ve pulled a couple of all-nighters to finish your novel.”
She had. “So I’ll call you…this weekend?”
“Sounds good.”
Finally, after lingering for a few minutes longer, they said goodbye and ended the call.
Wow. Abby stared at the you won that was still displayed on her laptop screen. She had written a romance novel. And she had a date with a romance author. Why the hell had she ever thought romances were predictable? Her love life certainly wasn’t!
But before she could go out with Tamara, she had a date with her bed…and with the sequel to Wildfire, if she could keep her eyes open long enough to read a chapter or two.
Grinning to herself, she headed off to find her e-reader.
> ###
Sex Sells
Killing someone never got any easier. In fact, it got harder every time. Mara had thought about how to off Sue for days, but nothing she’d come up with sounded right.
Shoot her?
No, that was lame—and a bit too messy. Slitting her throat or stabbing her were out for the same reasons.
What about pushing her off a cliff? Mara gnawed on the end of her pen and considered it for a moment.
Tempting, but it had been done to death already—no pun intended.
Hire a hit man?
Not personal enough. Plus a professional killer would do it quickly and with a minimal amount of suffering, and that wasn’t what Mara wanted. Not for this particular victim. After cheating on her just when Mara had thought the relationship might be going somewhere, Sue deserved a more gruesome death.
Mara leaned back in her seat and swirled her spoon through the foam left over at the bottom of her mug. Normally, the soothing background noise of clinking ceramic cups, the hiss of an espresso machine, and the murmur of conversations inspired her, but today even the familiar sounds did nothing for her.
She wanted to kill the noisy group of tourists who apparently presumed the other customers wanted to hear every word of their conversation. But then again, she’d have to find an effective murder method first. The loud hip-hop music blaring from the earbuds of the teenager slouched at the table next to hers didn’t exactly help either.
She sent him a glare. Maybe electrocution would work. Could you get zapped into the great beyond by your cell phone or MP3 player?
Probably not. Besides, she’d already killed someone off with electricity. No. She needed something else. Something unique.
Sighing, she dropped the spoon into her empty mug. She needed another caramel macchiato. Hey, could that be the perfect method she was looking for? Was there such a thing as caffeine poisoning?
Her cell phone rang before she could get herself another coffee. She fished her cell phone out of her backpack and flipped open the protective cover. Her mood instantly improved when she saw the name on the display—Hayley Wheeler.
“Can you die of a caffeine overdose?” Mara asked instead of a greeting.
