SPIN THE WHEEL. DATE THE GUY.
Six years ago, debut author Kitty Valentine took the book world by storm when her sweet romance hit #1 on the New York Times Best Sellers list, which was followed by a string of successful releases.
Her latest novel totally bombed, causing her publisher to suggest she write much sexier books.
To Kitty, writing smut is the literary equivalent of stripping.
But with no advance coming in and her royalties dipping to an all-time low, Kitty has no choice.
Armed with a romance-trope spinning prize wheel made by her best friend, listing all the different types of men she will date and then write about, Kitty will be spinning—not stripping—her way back onto the best-sellers list.
CHAPTER ONE
“You need time off,” my editor scolds.
“Are you kidding me, Maggie? I just returned from the islands.”
“Kitty, I saw your posts, and I know it wasn’t all fun and games. You haven’t been the same since you got back. Do you realize you gave the heroine’s best friend three different names over the course of this book?”
“Sure. I totally did that on purpose.”
“Kitty …”
No, of course I didn’t notice the problem with the names. And that isn’t like me.
“I was just trying to keep you on your toes,” I tease.
Normally, Maggie finds my sense of humor charming. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
She is not so impressed this time around. “That’s it. I’m putting my foot down. Frankly, I know I’m to blame for this.”
“For what?”
“For driving you as hard as I’ve been. Granted, I don’t call the shots, but I do have enough pull that I could stick up for you. You’re not a machine. You are a person, and you’re clearly in the midst of serious burnout.”
My head snaps back so hard, it’s amazing I don’t give myself whiplash. “That’s not true. I can handle it.”
“Tell me the truth. When was the last time you showered?”
I am so proud of myself too. “This morning, thank you very much.” I even sound smug when I say it, like I did some amazing thing by washing myself.
“Here’s a better question. When you sent me this file with the three-named best friend, when was the last time you showered before then?”
“I would like to plead the Fifth,” I grumble.
“I thought so.”
“That’s always the case. Ask any writer. When you’re getting close to a deadline, you want everything to be perfect, and some things tend to fall by the wayside.” Like bathing. Or brushing teeth. Or drinking anything but coffee and other caffeinated beverages.
“Regardless, you’re slipping. This isn’t criticism, trust me. It’s concern. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and you aren’t normally sloppy. You need some time off.”
“Fine,” I huff.
“Kitty, I’m just looking out for you. You’ve had a grueling schedule since we started with the tropes. As much as I want to keep you moving, I also know when to give you time to recharge. Now that the best-man book is finished, I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. Refresh and reset. We can talk in a few weeks.”
“Okay, Maggie. I hear you loud and clear.”
“Good. Now, maybe go find a man for fun.”
“Right, like I could do that in two weeks.”
“Anything is possible when you’re young, Kitty.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Good-bye, Maggie.”
“Bye, Kitty.”
Needless to say, I do not go look for a man. For two weeks, I mostly do things that I have been neglecting around the apartment. Now, here I sit on the rooftop, trying to soak up every last bit of sunshine and relaxation I possibly can.
The opening and closing of the roof door brings me out of my trance.
“I’m sure if your grandmother were here, she’d warn you about getting too much sun.”
Matt stands over me, hands on his hips. I can’t see much of him, even with my sunglasses on, thanks to the sun being behind him. But I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. I’m used to hearing it by now.
“I use plenty of sunscreen, thank you. And you’re blocking the sun. Now, my tan is going to be uneven.”
“Oh, the horror!” He crosses his hands over his chest and gasps.
“I know you can’t see my eyes right now because of the glasses, but trust me, I’m rolling them.”
He chuckles, going to the spot under the ledge where he stores his chair. “I needed a little fresh air. It’s been a tough couple of days. The market’s been volatile.”
“So, that’s why I keep hearing you muttering and cursing to yourself over there.”
“You can hear that?”
“Every once in a while. You know, only when I’m trying to take a nap because I’m supposed to be recharging. It’s no big deal.”
“Recharging, or did you need naps after moving your furniture around at all hours of the night?”
“You heard that?” I ask sheepishly.
“Yeah, I heard that.”
Oops. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just decided on a whim that it would be fun to shake things up. Rearrange my furniture. Like they do on those house shows. It’s amazing, all the design tips you can learn during a few weeks off. Maybe you need to take a little time off. I bet it would do wonders for you.”
“Oh, sure. It’s been doing wonders for you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” I raise myself up on one elbow, pushing up my glasses and resting them in my hair.
He’s stretched out in his chair, like always, his bare feet practically in my face. I have to shove them away, and he snorts like the pesky big-brother figure he’s turned into. “Let’s start with the fact that you’ve rearranged your furniture at least twice in the past two weeks.”
“What’s so weird about that? I wanted a change. And that’s the sort of thing people do when they have time off. All the little things they’ve been wanting to do but they were too busy.”
“And how many times have you rearranged your books?”
“I do that all the time anyway!”
“And you finally opened up the jigsaw puzzle Hayley had gotten you for Christmas two years ago, which had been sitting in its box under the TV stand ever since. You told me so.”
“Hey, that was a really cool present, and I felt like it deserved to be used.”
Honestly, it’s the coolest thing in the entire world. Hayley gathered hardcover versions of all of my books, arranged them, took a picture, and then had it made into a jigsaw puzzle.
“But you only put the border together. It’s been sitting on the floor in the same place with the same amount of work put into it for two weeks.”
“What is even the point of inviting you into my apartment when all you’re going to do is criticize? And I’m sorry, but since when do you take notes on the things I do? You’re starting to freak me out a little bit. Are you looking into taking up stalking as a second job?”