Page 76 of Driven Daddy

Except it also made me think too much.

Feeltoo much.

I didn’t want to feel anything, which was not exactly helpful for a goddamn romance author. I was supposed to drag people into my stories with the emotions. Grip them, even make them cry sometimes.

Ugh.

I snapped the lid of my laptop closed and the words and music halted.

I flipped my over-the-ear headphones off and struggled out of the corner of the couch I’d curled into. Blankets, pillows, and a very clingy Bruce tried to hold me down, but I needed to move.

It had been three days since I’d torpedoed things with Penn.

There was no doubt I’d engaged the crash and burn this time. Actually, I’d driven us off a cliff and into the ocean, if I wanted to be honest.

He wanted me.

Wantedme. It didn’t compute.

It was one thing to have sexual chemistry, quite another to be his…

I couldn’t even say it in my head. I wasn’t anyone’s idea of a dream anything, let alone one that included the start of a relationship. Which was insanely stupid. I was only in town for a few months, and I was fairly sure he didn’t live here, either.

He lives in the city. Not like that’s far away from you.

I squeezed my eyes closed. No. I couldn’t take that chance.

Not after…

No. I was not going down the Jenelle road. Not now.

I’d given her far too much of my life already. She didn’t deserve to live in my brain after she’d cut me out like a tumor.

Discarded poison. Dead weight.

I fisted my fingers into my hair, the pain dragging me out of the quagmire of defeat and loss.

I needed to reroute my thinking, or I’d end up under the covers with Bruce for the rest of the day, and I was so tired of hiding away from everyone and everything.

“I feel happy that I’m out of the city,” I whispered aloud. “I feel grateful for…for…”

The positive emotion cycle that my therapist had taught me to do didn’t work when there was nothing to be grateful for.

“Colette,” I said more strongly. “I feel grateful that I have a friend in Colette.” I took a deep breath. “I feel hopeful that I’m going to finish this fucking book.”

Swearing probably wasn’t supposed to be a part of a positive emotion cycle, but I could already feel the spiral lessen. Then Bruce shoved his big head under my arm, and I hugged him to me. “I feel secure, because you are the bestest boy,” I murmured against his soft ears, then kissed the top of his nose.

I hadn’t had a mini meltdown in awhile. Actually, not once since I’d stepped foot in Crescent Cove. The end of summer airwas just starting to ease into crispness. I went to the open back door and dragged in a deep, gulping breath.

The scent of burning leaves and the hint of water dragged me the rest of the way back. The lapping waves against the dock evened me out a little more.

Obviously, today was not going be a work day. Maybe I could convince Colette to take an early lunch. I wandered back to my makeshift desk, also known as my dining room table, and found my phone in the mess of papers, sticky notes, and notebooks.

I’d always been a chaotic first draft writer, but this was getting ridiculous.

As I lifted it, I frowned at the list of texts I’d missed from my agent.

Melissa:

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