Acrucibleis a plot device that causes tension by forcing your hero and heroine together. Increase the story’s tension by throwing your couple into a marriage of convenience or sending them off on a road trip.
—Romance Writing 101
Sadie squirmed under Sam’s pointed gaze. She’d just handed him a garment bag with her two wedding outfits, pushed an elephant-sized suitcase his way, then handed him a tote bag.
“Snacks,” she said.
He arched a brow and lifted the fifty-pound suitcase as though it were a clutch. “And all the rest of this?”
“It’s not as if I’ll have to pay baggage fees.”
“Did you pack everything you brought to the island?”
“And then some. I can’t really know what I’ll need, so I’m bringing a little bit of everything.” Sadie situated Rio’s car seat on the cab’s small rear bench. She gave Sadie a wounded look. “Iknow, I know, Mommy’s so mean. But we have to keep you safe, sweetie.”
Sam had only a garment bag and a toiletry case that wouldn’t even fit the shoes she’d brought. Men had it so easy.
After buckling Rio in, Sadie climbed into the passenger seat and got settled. She had her laptop handy, just in case inspiration struck during the seven-hour drive. She wasn’t holding her breath.
They would arrive on Anna Maria Island just in time to freshen up for the rehearsal dinner, which Sam was apparently invited to even though he wasn’t in the wedding party. She was looking forward to meeting the rest of Sam’s family and enjoying a party-like atmosphere for an entire weekend.
When Sam was finished loading the truck, he got in and pulled from the drive. In the week and a half since her editor’s call, she’d only seen him in passing.
Time had flown by. Sadie wrote every day, Monday through Saturday, and oftentimes ideas or bits of dialogue woke her in the middle of the night. The story had come pretty easily at first. She mostly kept the plot true to life, only changing details here and there. With a September first deadline,write what you knowwas her mantra. However, her hero was a genuine alpha, more like she’d assumed Sam to be in the beginning. But he maintained that rakish hair, sexy stubble, and delicious dimple. And if Sophie had been transformed into a leggy, blue-eyed blonde... well, who could blame her?
Initially the writing had gone so well, she’d hoped to have those hundred pages to Erin before the wedding. But the past few days Sadie had struggled to fill even a page. She was getting deeper into the story where the romance must develop. Andeverything she wrote about the protagonist’s inner desire for the hero sounded so cliché. She hadn’t stood for poor writing in her westerns, and she wouldn’t stand for it in her romance novels. Her editor certainly wouldn’t, much less her three devoted readers.
But what could she do when she didn’t know what falling in love actually felt like? It was certainly more than mere attraction. And how could she distinguish between the two when she only knew what one of those felt like?
So the past few days her flowing fountain had slowed to a depressing dribble.
Reading a hundred romance novels hadn’t prepared her for this. How could she describe in a fresh way a feeling she’d never before experienced? It was different than pulling off the emotions of a gunfight or a fall into a raging river. After all, she’d felt fear and exhilaration before. Who hadn’t?
She’d felt love as well, of course, but romantic love was altogether different. Or at least she assumed it must be. Why else would there be a billion novels featuring the emotion?
Maybe she just needed a short break from her story world—and she would be getting just that. Maybe a romantic wedding would be just the inspiration she needed. She was counting on it, because time was a luxury she didn’t have.
***
Following the GPS instructions, Sam turned onto the highway. They were well underway, but Sadie had been uncharacteristically quiet. She’d been so busy writing since she’d gotten the go-ahead from her publisher. Whenever he saw her working on the deck—and he did, often—he didn’t disturb her.
Not even when he wanted to share something that had happened that day. Or when he just wanted to know how her story was going.
He’d missed her.
The revelation sent a shot of anxiety through his veins. He’d come to depend on her company. That was something he might feel for a friend, of course. But a friend wouldn’t notice the sway of her hips as she walked or the way her lips looked lush when she bit them in concentration.
And now he was fixing to spend a long car trip—and a romantic wedding weekend—with her. Never mind that he’d have plenty of other distractions.
He rolled his eyes. How ironic that he’d originally counted on Sadie tobea distraction from those things. He shook his head. “So how’s your story going? You’re sure putting in the hours.”
“Well, it was practically writing itself until a few days ago. Now I can’t seem to write a decent page.”
“I’m sure you’re just being too hard on yourself.”
“No, seriously. It’s taken me three days to write one page. And the longer this goes on, the more anxious I feel, because I need to meet my daily goals if I’m going to finish this novel on time.”
“Maybe the pressure’s just getting to you.”
