I frown at the man-baby sitting in the middle row. This type of juvenile reaction made writing under a pseudonym necessary.
“I expect critical thought, not judgmental bias, in this course,” Professor Gibson barks. “Yes, romance is part of this curriculum. A billion-dollar industry would qualify as popular culture, don’t you agree?”
The snickers stop.
My brows inch up, impressed.
“Page 7 has a list of assessment questions.”
I turn the page. Several statements stand out—challenging patriarchal structures, empowerment… sexual liberation.
I can feel my lips tighten and my nose scrunch in a grimace. Sexually liberated is definitely not in my real-life vocabulary.
But it could be… as soon as I figure out how to be the protagonist of my own story.
My laptop screen flashes with a new email notification. Ignoring my self-inflicted repression for a moment, I open up my inbox to find Giselle’s name at the top. Her response to my genre-switch suggestion makes me grin.
La la la. My fingers are in my ears, and I’m not listening.
Can’t hear anything about switching genres...
I have an idea, something to get you back into the swing of things. There’s a box set going out later this year with a few names you may have heard of—James, Knight, Meyer.
Anywho, I sent them a sample of your work, and they are impressed.
You have a spot in the box set if you can get an outline to them by the end of the week—and they like it.
This could be the break you’ve been looking for. Pay off those student loans and do this full-time! Their audiences are enormous! We’re talking 15K+ newsletter lists.
I let out an audible gasp.
Olly turns to me, and his eyes narrow in concern. “What is it?”
“Giselle…” I point to the screen.
Olly reads the screen over my shoulder. “Holy shit.”
“I know.” All of the authors she listed are my idols. They turned a hobby into a full-time gig—just like I want to.
“What are you going to write?” he asks, keeping his voice lower to not disturb the class.
I scan the rest of the email. “It’s a collection of stories about turning the good boy bad.”
Olly bites his bottom lip and smirks. “Sexy.”
I grin. Of course my cock-loving best friend would like that idea.
But the reality of theboring work I’ve been putting out lately kills any future career plans. “I have to complete an outline by the end of the week. That’s not enough time.”
“Don’t you have something unpublished you can use?”
I shake my head. “Nothing that would classify as turning a good boy bad.”
Unless I picture Olly as a sweet, unassuming good boy, watching me crawl on my knees toward him…
Nope.
“What aboutNaughty Professor?” Olly whispers, his gaze raking down Professor Gibson’s body with so much heat it makes my skin simmer. “I can suck those details out tonight.”
