‘Why?’ I stood up straighter. ‘What have you heard?’
I knew I said I wouldn’t go there and I still stood by that. But it was like every time I saw her, she got more attractive.
Sarah had some great ideas for the retreat and bar and I liked how she said exactly what was on her mind and didn’t care what other people thought of her.
And she was going to be a successful writer. I hadn’t read her book yet and I didn’t know why, but something just told me it would be great.
Christ.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
The construction dust must’ve gone to my head.
‘Nothing. Other than the fact that she doesn’t like working with you.’
‘See?’ I said, trying to ignore the punch in my gut. ‘Like I said, she hates me.’
I knew that I wasn’t Sarah’s favourite person and initially, I got off on that. But knowing that she was still saying that after we’d worked together all week and I’d acted more professionally affected me more than it should’ve.
I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I was always going to be the guy that women liked to look at but didn’t want to spend time with unless it was for a bit of fun.
‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ Theo said. ‘She just doesn’t know you yet. The point is, don’t pull any of your antics on the women here. Things happened with me and Jessbeforethe library opened. And Jane and Jackson knew each other long before they worked together. We can’t afford for the library to become a graveyard filled with women you’ve fucked, then left heartbroken. It’s poor form and bad for business.’
‘Message received, loud and clear. No shagging romance readers or library workers. Got it.’ I saluted.
It wouldn’t be a problem. I had no intention of doing anything with the members. When they tried to give me their numbers or ask me out, I always politely declined.
And as for Sarah, like I said, she wasn’t interested. Even if she was, I wouldn’t take it further. She’d want the whole fairy tale like Jess and Jane had, and I wasn’t getting sucked into that bullshit again.
11
SARAH
It was official.
I was one hundred per centnotcut out for writing a novel.
Now I realised that I was stupid to assume that just because I read hundreds of romance novels a year, that somehow automatically qualified me to write my own.
Sunday was my day off, so I’d planned to dedicate it to writing. And ever since I’d woken up, I’d been trying, but the words just weren’t coming.
First, I thought I was hungry, so as the library’s café, Love & Lattes, was closed, I’d gone to Sweet Treats, which was also run by Maddie, to get my caffeine and pastry fix. I’d even brought my laptop and had visions of myself sitting there typing my novel like I’d heard so many established authors say they did. But even with my headphones in, I still couldn’t focus.
I’d heard that going for a walk was good for solving writer’s block. So then I’d tried strolling on the beach (still couldn’t believe that I lived across the road from the sea). I’d come back feeling full of enthusiasm, but still nothing.
After that, I’d picked up the book that Jane and Jackson had gotten for me. It wasn’t very long, so I’d read it from cover tocover, highlighting key parts first. But when I went back and started trying to do the practical parts, like creating an outline with characters, setting and the plot, I just came out blank.
The book recommended starting by asking if the idea felt like it was ready to be transformed into a full outline. And it said that I’d know if it was ready because I wouldn’t be able to get it out of my mind.
That was the first of many clues that told me I was in trouble. The problem was, I had a bunch of ideas swimming around my head, but they were more jumbled than a bag of computer cables.
At first, I thought I wanted to write a billionaire romance, with a hot, sexy alpha male, but like I’d said to Jess that day I was travelling to Sunshine Bay, I couldn’t even get the meet-cute right. And even if I did, I had no idea what would happen for the rest of the book. Or how to make it original so it didn’t just read like a copycat of all the other billionaire romances out there.
Yep. I had a new level of respect for my favourite authors.
A loud yawn flew from my mouth, prompting me to check the time.
Bloody hell. It was almost ten o’clock. I hadn’t realised it was so late. I’d better start getting ready for bed.
