Page 1 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

1

MARLA

The fire crackles in the stone fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the worn wooden floors of my cabin. I curl deeper into the oversized armchair, clutching my mug of chamomile tea like it might give me courage.

My best friend Sharon sits across from me on the couch, her short blonde hair catching the firelight as she leans forward with that concerned expression I know so well.

"So what's really going on, Mar?" she asks, her green eyes studying me. "You've been weird all week."

I take a breath, then another. Sharon's my best friend, the only person in this world I trust completely, but saying this out loud feels ridiculous. "I want to start writing romance novels."

She blinks. "Okay? That's great! You're an amazing writer. Your blog posts are incredible."

"Yeah, but..." I set my mug down on the side table, fidgeting with the hem of my oversized sweater. "I don't have any experience. With romance, I mean. Or sex. Well, not that much, and not anything to write home about."

Sharon's expression softens with understanding. She knows my history.

The endless rotation of foster homes, constant moving, and the way I learned early that getting attached to anyone was a guaranteed path to heartbreak.

Making friends was hard enough. Relationships? Impossible when you knew you'd be ripped away at any moment.

"You're twenty-two, Marla. You've got plenty of time to⁠—"

"I can't write convincing romance when I've never even had good sex," I interrupt, heat flooding my cheeks. "I've read all the books, watched all the movies, but it's not the same as actually experiencing it. My writing feels flat. Fake."

Sharon sets her own mug down and crosses her legs beneath her, the movement deliberate.

I recognize that look.

She's formulating a plan, and I'm not sure I'm going to like it.

"Okay, so here's what you need," she says, pointing at me. "You need to have sex. Good sex. With a hot guy who knows what he's doing."

My face burns hotter. "Sharon⁠—"

"No, listen. You're terrified of relationships, right? The commitment and attachment, all of that scares the hell out of you because of your past. I get it. So don't have a relationship." She grins, clearly pleased with herself. "Have a one-night stand. Or two. Or three. No pressure, no commitment, just hot sex with a talented guy who can give you some real material to work with."

I stare at her, my heart hammering. The idea is both terrifying and thrilling. "I don't even know where I'd find someone like that."

"The Ivory Wolf," she says immediately, referring to the restaurant and bar where she works. "Marla, you should see some of the guys who come in there. Gorgeous, confident, and most of them are total playboys. They're not looking for relationships either. It would be perfect."

I chew my bottom lip, considering.

The Ivory Wolf is a restaurant and club about five miles from my cabin, closer to the heart of town.

I've never been, but Sharon's worked there for six months and loves it.

"I don't know..."

"Come tomorrow night," Sharon urges, leaning forward. "Friday night. The place will be packed. Just come, have a drink, and see if anyone catches your eye. No pressure. If you're not feeling it, you can leave. But if you find someone you're attracted to..." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I laugh despite my nerves. "You make it sound so easy."

"It can be easy. You're beautiful, Marla. Any guy would be lucky to take you home." She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "You deserve to feel good and experience this. And hey, it's research for your book, right?"

I take a shaky breath, then nod. "Okay. Tomorrow night. But you're staying with me the whole time until I decide if I'm doing this."

"Deal." Sharon grins, her whole face lighting up. "Trust me, this is going to be exactly what you need."