Page 25 of Red Flag, Green Light

Ah dear.

Rouge: I don’t have finished books. I have a project that I’d like to hire you for.

Sara: A project?

That’s my Sara. Loves a good project. I can always count on her insatiable curiosity to aid me in all my schemes. Now, I just need to think up a project that will keep her busy without keeping me busy.

Rouge: I’d like to enlist your daily consultation on a novel while I’m writing it. It’s a bit off the beaten path, so I’ve been struggling. I’ll be sending you consistent content updates and expecting feedback on the direction of the story, in alignment with your genre knowledge.

Sara: What an impractical suggestion. I’m an editor, Rouge, not a critique partner.

And thank goodness for that, because Rouge does not work with critique partners.

Rouge: I’m happy to pay for the exclusivity of your expertise and the additional time you’ll be investing in a rougher draft.

Sara: Send me the pitch within twenty-four hours. Then I’lllet you know if I’m interested.

My smile spreads.ThatI can do.

Chapter Eight

Give me shoulders, or give me death.

Ceres

My stomach hurts. It is, of course, because I tasted Mars’s banana frozen lemonade a few hours ago, not because I forgot to eat dinner after I got home from the store. That would be ridiculous.

In hindsight, fasting until I could replace my order on Monday would not have been the end of the world. One meal every few days is common for me. I could have skipped the entire ordeal of entering a store, going to a gas station, and sipping an abomination if I’d just remained calm when Amelia told me the news, thanked her, and headed on home to meditate.

Glancing at the empty frozen hot chocolate cup on my crocheted succulent coaster, I relax and continue sorting through my work request queries. These days, requests from men get trashed immediately. Since I’m not struggling to build my career anymore, I’ve had way too many bad experiences with guys in this genre writing men like…men…and then getting annoyed with me when I say, “Um, actually.” It’s very hard to explain to some guys that the male population in romance novels are perfectly attainable and realistic standards, but also they do not exhibit the bottom-of-the-barrel conduct they’ve decided is attainable and realistic.

In mydarkromance field, it’s harder still to explain that the lines are finer, but ever important. Some guys totally get it and do the genre a grand service. But most other guys have subjectedme to leaving a hundred comments on every page.

I’m making the odds of reliving those experiences slimmer by removing the chance that narcissistic men will give me self-insert jerk leads who wish the real world would let them abuse women.

Dark romance men might be brutal, but they must also be earth-shakingly in love with their ladies for me to consider a project.

I’m looking for the men who torture themselves as much as they torture others, vying for the attention of their oblivious darlings. I want the guys who treasure stab wounds from their lady loves, because that attention is the only time something went deep enough for them to feel it in their broken souls.

Desperation and adoration must go hand in hand, frolicking.

It might be safe to say that my expectations for the dark romance male leads aren’t entirelyattainable and realistic. But only because of the crimes. Were it merely off-the-charts obsession, which somehow manages to still respect at least a modicum of autonomy, I’d have a real-life husband already.

Getting away with crimes on top of all that is a bit of a stretch, though.

After all, what man has the left and right brain coordination for that sort of thing?

Don’t make me laugh.

Today, 7:42 p.m.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Project pitch

Sara,

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