More Than Words: A Novella by Lilly Avalon

 
    Chapter One
     
    “I'm sorry, you want me to what ?”
     
    There has to be cotton in my ear. Or maybe I blasted My Chemical Romance too long in the car on my way here today. Perhaps she was mumbling and the words she said became misconstrued in my head. There's no way Jamie just asked me what I think she asked me.
     
    She frowns and clears her throat. “I need you to write an erotic novel.”
     
    I didn't misunderstand what she said. Her words were clear as crystal that time. “Um...Why do you need this from me?”
     
    She takes off her glasses, setting them on a stack of papers on the desk. “Our ghostwriter for Juliet Oliver just quit before turning in her latest submission. She was already well past deadline, but we thought she'd pull through at the last second. Unfortunately, she didn't. Now we're in a bind and scrambling to find someone to write a new story while we find her replacement.”
     
    I realize their predicament. If a writer goes too far past the deadline, it creates even weightier deadlines for the publisher. What doesn't make sense is where I fit in. I may have been writing and publishing with Gravity Lit for three years, but this request is way out in left field. “Couldn't, I don't know, Gina do it? This is more up her alley than mine.” Gina's stories fall into the category of romantic suspense and wouldn't be complete without at least one romp in the sheets.
     
    She shakes her head. “I already checked with her. She's too pressed for time completing final edits on her next release to squeeze it in.”
     
    “I don't...” I press my lips together for a second. “I'm not sure I'm able to write that sort of thing.”
     
    “What, sex?”
     
    “Well, yeah.” My stories are more along the lines of clean romances. You know, the ones full of self-discovery, small towns, and a new-old love that turns into a happily ever after. There are a few kisses, but they barely register on the steamy scale.
     
    Jamie leans forward. “Look, I get it. It's not your usual kind of story writing, but you're an amazing writer, Dana. You have the potential to be able to cross genres seamlessly. It's a lot like your stories. The only difference is the sex.”
     
    Not just sex— lots of sex. And dirty talk. And euphemisms for penises that make you cringe.
     
    I take a long look at her and can tell it hasn't been a good day. Her messy fire-red hair is wrapped up in an even messier bun with pieces flying in every direction. It always looks worse at the end of the day—even more so when it's a bad day. I concede with a sigh. “What exactly do you need for this story?”
     
    She puts her glasses back on and opens a file. “The Juliet Oliver stories run between forty- and fifty-thousand words, give or take.” She skims down the page with her finger. “There's always a strong female main character, but her job varies, as do the suitors. There are usually no specifics to go by for what kind of protagonist and love interest.”
     
    I lean back in my chair and think it over. The requirements don't sound too difficult. I could probably throw together a story easily enough. The hardest part will be the sex scenes. I've never written one before, not even for fun. Not that I'm unfamiliar with lady porn—I have read a few—but reading it and writing it are completely different matters.
     
    I open my mouth to speak, but Jamie cuts me off. “There's just one catch.”
     
    “What?”
     
    “We already released a synopsis.”
 
    “Oh. What is it?” She hands me the paper and when I read it my eyes widen. Apparently, there are more expectations than she hinted at. Given the specifics mentioned in the synopsis, there's very little wiggle room. Maybe I could manage, given enough time. “When's the deadline?”
     
    “Two weeks.”
     
    “Two weeks ?” I squeak. “Write forty- to fifty-thousand words in two weeks?” Even National Novel Writing Month doesn't expect this much from writers.
     
    She shrugs.