Page 163 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Is this supposed to be a comedy?” Wendy asked. I nodded again, still not able to talk. She thought about my answer for a second and then said, “I liked it. I thought the character, Meghan, was very relatable. I think sometimes, as readers, we get caught up in a stereotype of what we think heroines have to be made of, of who we expect them to be. When in fact, there are thousands upon thousands of different characteristics we, as authors, get to choose from. I think the heroine is unique, different, naïve—but in a good, refreshing kind of way. I think there are a lot of readers that could relate to her inner dialogue and struggles. Not everyone out there in the dating pool is sexually active, or automatically given God’s gift to sex. As authors, it’s our job to explore every different idiosyncrasy of the human form, even if that character might not relate to every reader. Nine out of ten times, the reader might not be able to relate, but there is that one reader, that shy, quirky book nerd who could appreciate a character like Meghan—someone who has a passion for reading, who’s lost themselves in the written word, and who’s inexperienced. I think you did a great job, Rosie. Don’t follow the trends. Be your own person and reach out to those fellow book nerds like me, because you will touch hearts with this character, I promise.”
Wolf Fleece Wendy just became my new favorite person.
For the rest of the meeting, we talked about upcoming releases, works in progress, and our next gathering. After we adjourned, Wolf-shirt Wendy pulled me to the side and told me to hold my head up high. She said I was doing a great job and to email her if I needed any help. She slipped me her business card and said she would love to read the rest of my manuscript when I was ready.
I wasn’t sure if I would be attending another meeting, but what I did know was I’d found a soulmate. She had given me that little boost of encouragement I’d needed to finish my book. After all this time, the possibility of becoming an author wasn’t so out of reach—untouchable.Maybe, just maybe, my dreams may come true.
* * *
“There’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” Henry said, as I approached him. He straightened up from leaning against a brick building and held out his arm to capture me in a hug. “Mmm, I missed you, love. How was the meeting?”If only he knew just how much I needed to see his face, hear those words, and be held by those arms. I love this man so much.
“Devastating at first, but then it all evened out in the end.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed Henry on the lips.
“What do you mean devastating? Were they mean to you?”
“Yeah, four out of five of them didn’t like my book.”
“Seriously?” Henry was genuinely shocked; it was adorable. “Whose tits do I have to cut off? Give me addresses. No one tells my girl her book isn’t good.”
He shook his head, he was so mad. I calmed him down by pressing another kiss against his lips. “Calm down. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. Who do these ladies think they are, picking apart your book? They don’t know you. They don’t know where your words are coming from. They have no right to make you feel bad about your work.”
I laughed and kissed him again. “Henry, if I’m going to be an author, there will be readers who don’t like my books. You’re going to have to be okay with that.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I will never be okay with people making you feel bad.”
I sighed at his inability to settle down. “I love you.”
He studied me for a second and then wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “I love you too, Rosie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to chop some tits off.”
“You’re impossible.” We started walking toward the adult book store, hand in hand. “There was one lady who was super nice, though. Her name is Wendy, and she wore a fleece sweater with wolves on it.”
“I like her already.” Henry laughed.
“She stuck up for me in front of everyone, told them my character was unique and refreshing. She gave me her business card to email her if I have any questions.”
“That was nice of her. You should email her a thank you.”
“Already thought about doing that. So, how was your day?”
Henry just shrugged his shoulders, not expanding into detail about his day.Again. What isn’t he telling me?I tried to not let it bother me, but we’d always told each other everything, so his refusal to disclose what had been going on at work was starting to eat me alive.
“That good, huh?” I asked, trying to get him to talk a little bit more.
“Yeah, pretty much. I have to work late tomorrow.”And that was that.“So, how about we go to the sex shop first and then grab a slice of pizza to eat on the way home? That work for my girl?”
“Sounds good to me.” As I smiled at him, I triednotto show my disappointment in his evasiveness. But this was Henry, who knew how to read me better than anyone else in my life. He knew what this was doing to me, which was why it hurt so much.It’s not like him to intentionally hurt me, so why was he?
On the way to the sex shop, we held hands and talked about what Henry had planned for Derk’s bachelor party. Derk wanted to keep it low-key, nothing fancy, just his guys, some pizza, and poker. I asked Henry if he planned on getting a stripper, and he said Derk didn’t care for one, but he was adamant about having some nice cigars.
“Clearly, Derk isn’t as high maintenance as Delaney.” I laughed.
“Not so much. I’m a little upset about it.”
“Why? Do you want a stripper at the party? Do you want boobies in your face?”
Henry laughed and shook his head then drew my hand to his lips and gently kissed me. “Why would I need boobies in my face when yours practically live there?”
