On Paper

by Shae Scott

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Also by Shae Scott

  Let’s Chat

  On Paper

  Copyright @ 2015 Shae Scott

  Published by Shae Scott

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical,

  without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Kari Ayasha

  Cover to Cover Designs

  Formatting: Cassy Roop

  Pink Ink Designs

  Dedication

  To Travis:

  The best souvenir I brought home from my trip to San Francisco.

  You are the reason I know that one week with a stranger really can change your life forever.

  “Sometimes I wonder about my life.

  I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder,

  do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave?

  So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book,

  when shouldn't it be the other way around?”

  Kathleen Kelly – You’ve Got Mail

  SOME PEOPLE ARE naturally brave. Even as children they climb to the highest branch of the tree, jump from highest rung of the monkey bars, or try out for the lead in the school play. They never seem to worry about what might happen, they jump first and ask questions later. And what amazes me, is most of the time, it all works out. No matter how high they climb, how far they jump, or how much they risk it all just falls into place. Is it just that they don’t allow for any other outcome, so no other outcome ever occurs?

  I’ve always wondered about that.

  I am not one of those people. My biggest adventures tend to come from the pages of the books I read. If you take those into account, I’m very well versed. I’ve lived through it all. But it’s easier to make the risky decisions within the pages of make-believe. Living without a net and chasing adventure is just better when you’re sure to get the happy ending.

  No, I’ve never been one of those girls you’d put in the brave column. I’m not going to jump without a net. In fact, I’m not even climbing the ladder unless I have a solid plan in place for what happens when I get to the top. I like logic. I like questions and I like safe. I don’t see anything wrong with being careful. It’s called being prepared.

  I don’t need the thrill of adrenaline. I don’t crave the free fall. I’m perfectly happy living my life that way.

  Not everyone is cut out to jump off the cliff. Someone has to stay behind and call 911 when something goes terribly wrong. That person is me.

  And while I may not always take adventures, I tend to surround myself with people who do. It has always been enough, to see it from the safety of the outside; to share the thrill instead of breathe it in as my own.

  But sometimes the adventure finds you. Sometimes, it’s like you never even had a choice. It beckons you, seduces you, it takes you so suddenly and so completely that before you know it you have given up your spot on the sidelines and you’re free-falling into something you may never walk away from in one piece.

  WHEELS SLAMMED AGAINST the pavement as the plane touched down and propelled me forward in my seat. I braced myself against the seatback in front of me and craned my head against the tiny window only to see plain, nondescript concrete. Sitting back, I glanced over at my best friend, and roommate, Lily. She yawned, waking up from her in-flight nap. I'd been too excited to sleep. I had tried to read, my favorite way to spend any down time, but I was too antsy.

  "I have a kink in my neck," Lily groaned, trying to stretch out in the tiny, cramped row of seats, her hand hitting me in the face. I rolled my eyes as I pushed it away.

  "Well, you were sleeping like the dead. The flight attendant was worried until you started snoring like a lumberjack," I teased.

  "Shut up, Quinn, I don’t snore,” she scolded. She was smiling though, her excitement mounting now that we had landed.

  "You keep telling yourself that, Lil," I laughed.

  She ignored me and leaned over my lap to sneak a peek out the window.

  "Unimpressive," she sighed as the plane rolled along the runway towards our gate.

  "It's an airport. They don't typically rank high on tourist attractions," I smiled. I didn't bother admitting that I'd been staring out the window, too, in hopes of seeing the bay or maybe Alcatraz. I'd never been to San Francisco, but it had always topped my list of hopeful destinations.

  This trip was a graduation present from my parents. I'd just graduated from the University of Missouri and because I’d spent the better part of my life buried in the pages of a book, they had arranged to send Lily and me away to one of the biggest book conventions around. I was ecstatic; an entire week in San Francisco surrounded by books. Obviously, they knew me well.

  Some people wanted to go abroad, or lounge around on the beach, but I was a self proclaimed book nerd; a book convention with my best friend was pretty much top of the line for me. I didn't care if that made me weird.

  Lucky for me, Lily and I shared a love of fiction. We'd spent our formative teenage years living on my mom's Harlequin books and a steady diet of Nicholas Sparks and Nora Roberts. Like the books we loved, we had evolved into more diverse readers. But, we still loved romance best and more than anything we loved talking about new books we had discovered. Finding new amazing authors was like a game; both of us wanting to introduce a book to the other and watch them fall in love. It was like sharing an amazing secret. We would talk for hours about the characters, fall in love with them, cry with them, laugh with them. It was one of our favorite pastimes and it connected us.

  So, yeah, this trip was the best gift I could have wished for. I was giddy with excitement and anxious to get out of this airport and to the hotel.

  We padded our way to the baggage claim chattering randomly as we joined the crowd of waiting passengers. I stared at the opening, spitting out bags, as my head bobbed to the loud beeping of the baggage alert, my foot tapping impatiently. The belt turned slowly, carrying everyone's luggage past but ours. I had nearly convinced myself that our bags were lost somewhere in Dallas when my familiar red bag with the sock monkey luggage tag hanging from the zipper drifted by.

  Bags in hand we headed out to the line waiting for cabs. The air was cool a
nd I pulled my jacket closed against the breeze.

  "You think we'll go over the bridge?" Lily asked. She had a handful of pamphlets in her hand, having grabbed them while we were waiting on our bags.

  "I hope so," I beamed. I couldn't wait to see the famous Golden Gate Bridge in person, especially with the fog rolling in over the water. I didn't even care that Lil and I were the epitome of tourists right now. I was going to embrace it. I hadn't traveled much in my life, my family vacations had consisted only of the occasional camping trip or weekend in Branson. I’d certainly never traveled much on my own.

  I followed Lily into a cab and let out the tiny squeal of excitement that I'd been working at holding in since we'd landed.

  As expected, San Francisco was beautiful. It was an instant love affair, the perfect backdrop for this week. I wanted to freeze time and just stay here forever. I looked over at Lily as she shivered in the seat next to me. She was always cold, a sun goddess at heart. I, on the other hand, was made for cloudy days and cool temperatures. I loved them, they soothed me. Too much sunshine made me grumpy. I know, that sounds crazy, but I think some people are just made for shadows. To me there was something comforting about the clouds and the rain; the way they hung around you like a blanket or washed away every worry. It invited you to cozy up, reflect, and lose yourself in a story. It was my happy place.

  That’s not to say I was some dark and twisty kind of girl. I was far from emo, but I wasn’t someone who minded being on my own. I'd grown up an only child and I was used to entertaining myself. When I was growing up people would give me a hard time about always reading. "What a lonely hobby," they would say. "How will you meet new people if you spend all of your time with your nose stuck in a book?" What they didn't understand was that I had a million friends; each character I read about became my confidant. I listened to their secrets. I kept them close. I lived a million adventures and lived a thousand different lives within those pages. And as I got older, those experiences led me to a whole new set of people I called friends. Friends I couldn't wait to meet this week.

  When we made it to the hotel it was already packed. The lobby was a swarm of people, luggage and chatter. It was a bit overwhelming to take in after our early flight and busy morning, but it also gave me a surge of adrenaline. I bounced from foot to foot, anxious for the check-in line to move faster. I wanted to get upstairs and change so I could explore. I didn’t want to leave an inch of this hotel or this city untouched. I wanted to soak up every moment of this trip, determined to make every second count.

  Once we had our keys we headed towards the bank of elevators. There were crowds of people milling about and as we passed. I was surprised when I recognized a few authors and I felt a surge of excitement rush through me. The rest of the world could have their rock stars; my fangirling was reserved for the genius behind the words that filled my days. Words that had pulled me from darkness or allowed me to escape a crappy day. It was so much more than flash, it was emotion and the creativity was always enough to turn me giddy. At least no one here thought it odd. We were all in this together.

  We didn't spend too much time in the room. A quick freshen up and we headed back downstairs to join the fray. We didn't even stop to unpack and that was saying something, because I always unpacked. This time the draw was just too strong. I wasn't going to wait another moment.

  MY ALARM BEGAN its annoying tune of torture and I groaned in protest. Long arms tightened around me, soft hands sliding up my naked torso. I searched my memory trying to recall the face of the woman who was currently pressed against me. I could feel bare tits rubbing against my back and a smooth leg tangled with my own.

  I think her name was Shannon. We'd met in the lobby bar and after two cocktails she'd suggested a private nightcap. Who was I to refuse such an offer? She was a tiny little thing. To be honest, I'd thought I might break her. That's not arrogance; the girl was seriously tiny. I probably could have carried her around in my pocket for as tall as she was. From the way she twisted her body, I wondered if she was some sort of gymnast. I smiled as I felt her mouth leave slow, wet kisses against my spine, bringing back memories of the night before. It had me doing a quick calculation to see if I had time for a repeat performance.

  "You don't have to leave just yet do you?" she cooed softly.

  "I have to be downstairs in an hour," I said, moving to lie on my back. She crawled on top of me, her hair creating a curtain of waves that brushed across my chest.

  "An hour? I can do a whole lot with an hour," she smiled. I watched as she leaned forward and kissed my chest. My hand gripped her hair gently, loving the way her mouth moved against my skin.

  "Hmmm," I hummed as she moved lower. A morning blow job sounded like a great way to start this day off and tiny Shannon was more than happy to oblige.

  GIANT BOOK CONVENTIONS could be intense. You wouldn't expect it, a bunch of readers getting together to party it up for a week. Snoozefest, right? Wrong. Not romance readers. Not my readers. They were always up for a party. And you put them all together in some fancy hotel and give them permission to let loose away from responsibility and you'd better watch out.

  I loved it. I always had a good time. They were long and exhausting, but I got to meet all kinds of people. More than that, I got to know them. These were the people who took the time to actually read my books. That was a big deal to me. I might take a lot of shit for granted, but I wasn't so much of an ass that I didn't truly appreciate that. They'd allowed me to live a life that I loved.

  My brother, Miles, and I walked through the maze of halls and meeting rooms in search of 26C. Well, Miles searched; I followed and waved at people as we walked. I felt a bit like a show pony, but I liked being a show pony. Miles was also my assistant at things like this. He made sure I was on time, helped me carry my shit, and in return I gave him money and free travel. He was my best friend, so it worked out for both of us.

  "What is this panel on again?" I asked. Might as well be prepared.

  "Sex in Fiction," Miles answered. The fact that he'd said that with a straight face made me laugh. Two dudes walking through a hotel, at a romance book convention talking about sex panels. How was this our life?

  "Sex in Fiction," I mused. "Never a dull day."

  "You're job is weird," Miles agreed.

  I walked into the room preoccupied and lost in my own thoughts. The instant squeals and cat calls put an abrupt end to that. Holy shit. This room was wall to wall women clutching their book bags and fanning their vaginas. The decibels ringing in my ear were enough to leave me with tunnel hearing for the next week. I gave them all a wave and a smirk and made my way to the empty chair at the table.

  "It's loud in here," I laughed leaning over to one of my panel-mates. She was beautiful; copper hair cascading down her back, creamy skin, with a hint of blush coloring her cheeks. I couldn't remember her name off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure I had fucked her at a signing in Vegas last year.

  She rolled her eyes and went about straightening up the stack of books in front of her. Yep, that was her. I don't know why she was so hell bent on ignoring me. I’d given her a night that I was pretty sure had inspired that best-seller sitting in front of her. She should be thanking me and begging for a sequel.

  This is why I had sworn off screwing fellow authors. They put too much shit into their books. It was like therapy for them. They couldn't help themselves. I didn't need that kind of drama. No sense in having my escapades coming back to bite me in the ass later. Everyone in this group talked. There were no secrets. I'd learned my lesson quick.

  I leaned back and scanned the crowd. Readers. So many readers. They all bounced in their seats excitedly, eyes glued to those of us sitting up front behind this huge table. I glanced down the line and gave my colleagues a smile. Luckily, Red here beside me was the only one holding a grudge today. They all had books and swag spread out in front of them. I'd brought nothing. Apparently today I was my own swag.

  The moderator call
ed everyone to attention and I listened as she introduced us all. I was the only male on the panel. Hell, I was practically the only male at this entire conference. I'd fallen into this whole romance author thing by accident. I'd never expected it to turn in to what it was. Hell, I wasn't even that good of a writer if I was being honest. But I had a nice smile and a penis and that seemed to make up for any shortcomings that I had.

  Okay, that’s a lie. I actually loved writing. I’ve done it my whole life and I’m good at it. I had just always imagined that I'd be writing for some hard-hitting news organization or something. But that hadn't turned out to be so easy. Competition was fierce and I was just a low man on the totem pole getting coffee and doing research. I knew I had to pay my dues, but I had been impatient.

  Three Christmases ago I was sulking on the couch watching football with my twenty-two year old cousin, Amber. She was completely absorbed in some book and had barely put it down to have dinner with the family.

  "What are you reading?” I'd asked. She glanced over her Kindle and glared at me for interrupting her.

  "It's a love story," she huffed.

  “Like girl porn?”

  “No,” she’d growled back.

  "Is there sex?" I'd asked.

  "Yes. But that doesn't make it porn. It's a modern day fairytale. It's sweet. And sexy. Now shut up so I can finish," she said, shutting me out.

  Modern day fairytale. Women loved shit like that. Real life was never good enough for them. Everyone wanted some ideal prince charming that didn't exist. It's why they all spent so much money buying books they could get lost in. If guys were smart they’d read that shit along with the girls and find out what flipped their switch. They were like a guy’s playbook on how to get laid.

  That night I downloaded my first romance novel. Not that I needed a playbook, mind you, but I was curious. It was about a shy girl who meets a wealthy bad boy who can't be tamed. Of course he corrupts her and they have sex in all kinds of crazy places. Like, they have a lot of sex. It's funny, none of my old girlfriends were into having sex with me in cabs or letting me get them off at the dinner table. Maybe I was doing something wrong.