Before I started writing, my mental image of a romance author was Mary Fisher from She-Devil. Before Ruth Patchett messed with her head, of course.
I thought romance authors floated through life on a cloud of sensuality and calmness, always half-immersed in the world they created. Romance oozed from their every pore, and they were ready to have sex or write about it at the drop of a hat.
That ain’t exactly the case… damn it.
I’ve written in my sweats (or out of them). In my flannel pajamas. I’ve written with my hair sticking up from my running my fingers through it in frustration, and I’ve written while my kid insisted on telling me how Batman poured all of Catwoman’s milk out, and now they’re racing their cars to settle it (only using a million words). I’ve plotted in my head, saying the dialog aloud, while driving to my MBA class, and I’ve gotten out of bed after three hours of sleep to jot down an idea. I’ve gotten my husband to try positions with me, but without allowing him to touch me because this is for my book.
Sounds romantic, huh?
Well, it sort of worked for me. Once I was in the zone, I could block out voices, noises, worries, finances, the day job, the kid, the hubby, my need for chocolate, and everything else trying to keep me from writing about two or three people getting their sexy on.
Not anymore. Whether my mind is tired or the white noise became too loud, writing the sexytimes has become harder. I can’t get in that mood. I want to, but all that comes out is light banter, insecure heroes, and fun situations. I think I’m in for a bout of romantic comedy. Guess we’ll have to see how this works, huh?
If you’re in the mood for a funny enemies-to-lovers story, this is your chance to pre-order A Kiss in the Dark for only 99c. It comes out on November 24!
Eliza is out with a dreamy guy, when the lights go out and someone other than her date takes advantage of the dark to kiss her more passionately than she’s ever been kissed before. It could be any of the men at the nearby tables—except for her horrible ex and his buddy, also known as the bane of her existence.
Nate is screwed. He approached the woman of his dreams with kindergarten tactics, and he isn’t surprised they backfired. Kissing her during the blackout was supposed to help him get over her, but it made him want her more. Too bad she hates his guts.
Now Eliza is determined to find her prince, and Nate has to find a way to fix things or sit back and watch her kiss a few frogs.
Note: A different version of this book, including very little of Nate’s POV, was published before with a different name. Although the story is essentially the same, it’s been extensively edited and much of it has been rewritten.