I scowl at the screen, knowing the only options for me to write this scene effectively are to keep it non-descriptive and PG clean, relive the way Lane kissed me while telling me the hard truth that human men can never measure up to fictional men, or to pull from other books I've read.Number three, my lord,I mentally say in the voice of that masked guy fromShrek. I crack my knuckles and do what God has commanded.
Just write.
I finger the cross necklace around my neck. I guess the first thing on the first kiss editing checklist is to make sure I’ve set thescene. My head conjures up a romantic sunset, a candlelit beach dinner, and…
Mangos?
Listen as I guide you, my little author. First, I place my palm on your cheek…
Excerpt from Esme’s Novel
“Favorite color?” Noah asks as we sit on the edge of my bungalow’s deck, soaking in the sun. He’s trying to take my mind off of the attempted kidnapping earlier today while we wait for our late lunch to arrive. He’s asked me first-date-type questions, and with that vibe forming between us (and the fact he saved me), I’m havingthoughts. Sexy savior complex type of thoughts.
I shut them down, grimacing at the water. It would be one thing if I just thought he was hot, but there’s something else lurking beneath the haze of attraction. Something… oceans deep. Too foreign to explore.
“Pink. But like, pale.” I respond, eyeing the man who has at least seven inches on my five-foot-five frame, even while we are sitting side by side. “And yours?”
“Orange.”
I cease kicking my feet in the ocean, tossing him an incredulous look. “That’s the worst color in existence.”
He feigns hurt, bringing one large hand to his chest.I really need to stop focusing on his hands…
“Dang, girl. You’re brutal.”
I shrug and resume kicking my feet. “It’s truly awful. So loud. Bright and in your face.”
“I like bright and in your face,” he croons in a sultry way that nine out of ten is not supposed to be taken that way. Or maybe it is? This Noah guy is the flirtiest man I’ve ever encountered.
“Favorite book?” I ask, positive he isn’t a reader. It should turn me right off from his good looks, and then I can get my crap together and go back to sulking over getting left at the altar by a cheating man and reckoning with almost getting taken—
“The Joy Luck Club.”
Once again, my feet stop their mindless splashing. I choke out, “Amy Tan?”
He raises one dark eyebrow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his full lips. “Yes?”
“You read books? Classic books? Books all about women and their familial, cultural struggles?”
“And why does that shock you so much, Esme?”
“Look at you.” I gesture up and down, perusing his stellar frame shamelessly.
“I’m hot so I must be illiterate?” He crosses his arms in a challenge, biceps flexing. He asked me when we got back to my place if he could strip his shirt off while we lounged on the deck, and I told him I’d be comfortable with it.
I needed a little sugary-sweet eye candy to pick me up after the past week I’ve had.The afternoon I had…
“I don’t make the rules.”
“That’s a hasty generalization, Meme. You’re hot and obviously a reader since you asked me that question. We can be hot readers together.”
I try not to focus on his eyes taking a once-over or the fact that he used my nickname without knowing it is my nickname, but I’m sunburned, so the heat on my face can be attributed to that. “Females have to be literate. It’s trendy to be a voracious reader.”
He drops his arms and pulls one leg up from off the edge, tucking it underneath him as he manages. “So you only read because you feel feminine society says you must? Aren’t they all about the erotic, anyway? Is that what you read, Esme?”
My face burns so intently that the sun gets a little jealous it couldn’t do the job as effectively as Noah. “No. But if I did, you’d judge me, right?”
He shakes his head, loose black curls bouncing. I ache to find out if they’re as silky as they look.
