by Nikki Chase
I cried and I laughed. My heart broke, and then got mended again in the space of hours. Some nights, I didn’t sleep because I just had to finish books that were particularly engrossing.
So hell yeah, I want to write romance novels. I want to string words together in a way that will make people feel. That seems like such magic to me. If I could choose a superpower, I’d want to be able to make people connect with my writing and relate to my characters.
Alas, according to the publishers, I suck.
Only Jane’s encouragements keep me going. She reads a ton of romance novels too, and she says I have what it takes. But what if she’s wrong?
“I can help you,” Heath says.
“You can help me become a romance author?” I ask incredulously. Again, let’s not forget that my boss is a stock investor.
“Yes.”
“Let me guess. You know some big-shot publisher?”
Publishers have rejected everything I’ve ever submitted. They make me wait for months just to get their rejection emails—which, by the way, are never even personalized. They probably just enter my email, along with fifty-seven others, into the BCC field and fire off a form letter. It’s sad, I know.
“I do,” Heath says with a small smile that could melt the collective panties of all the single women on the Island of Manhattan. “And you just said your problems are time and money—I can help with those, too. Let me ask you another thing, how do you like my ideas from yesterday?”
I bite my cheek. It’s something I do when I’m nervous. Should I tell him the truth?
It seems silly at this point to worry about acting professional. He’s just fired me… I guess. And he hasn’t officially told me what my new job is going to be. So he’s technically not even my boss at this point.
“Yes,” I admit.
His smile widens, which only makes me feel even more like I’m losing my balance. He seems so confident and in control.
“Are you going to write something based on my ideas?” Heath asks again.
“Maybe.” I feel like I’ve given him more than enough information.
“Would you say I’m helping you turn your story into something sexy?” The way he cocks an eyebrow when he says the last word is going to haunt my sexy dreams—so yes. In many ways he doesn’t even know, he’s helping me turn my story into something sexy… or as sexy as I can make it.
Hell, before Heath Anders, I had no idea what a sexy guy was. I mean, on an intellectual level, of course I know what to look for—a tall figure, a pair of broad shoulders, maybe six-pack abs, long legs, and so on. But Heath’s the only guy I’ve met who makes me fantasize about what's underneath his Tom Ford suit.
“Yes,” I say.
“Okay. So this job that I’m putting on the table, it’s going to give you all three things you need to become a successful romance author.” Heath pauses to bask in my rapt attention before he raises one finger and says, “Time—” another finger shoots up “—money—” yet another finger joins the other two “—and sexy ideas.”
“Are you going to tell me what this job is?”
“Of course.” With his juicy ass and masculine hands still on the desk, he leans forward and fixes his sharp, penetrating gaze on me. “How would you like to carry my child?”
End of preview.
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About the Author
Nikki Chase is a contemporary romance author. After having her own real-life insta-love experience, Nikki now lives happily ever after with her husband in the Pacific Northwest.
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