Page 101 of Guys Can't Write Romance
“Three,” Ruth added with a gleam in her eye, “they’re sitting next to each other instead of at opposite ends of the table.”
“They were the closest ones to the door,” Chad countered, before realizing they were on the far side of the table from the door.
Mags’ eyes went from their seats to the door, and the smirk on her face let them know she wasn’t buying any of their protests. “Darling, you two are better than my daytime soaps,” she said, adjusting her chunky necklace. “Now, are we going to talk about your budding romance, or are we going to critique some pages?”
“Pages!” Daisy said quickly, at the exact moment Chad blurted, “Definitely pages!”
The group exchanged knowing looks.
“Page critique it is,” Mags agreed, failing to hide her smile. “Let’s start with Helen’s submission.”
As Helen began discussing her latest chapter, a poignant scene where her recently widowed protagonist finds her husband’s love letters in an old trunk, Chad shifted in his seat, his arm brushing against Daisy’s. She didn’t pull away.
Philip noticed and nudged Ruth, who elbowed Bernie, who winked at Liv, who smirked at Mags, who looked like the cat who’d gotten into the cream.
When it came time for Chad’s pages, Liv cleared her throat dramatically before reading from her notes. “I have to say, Chad, I’m impressed by the emotional vulnerability you’ve allowed your protagonist to show. The scene where Brandon realizes he’s falling for someone completely unexpected was surprisingly moving.”
“Surprisingly?” Chad protested, though without his usual defensiveness.
“We all expected more bikini-clad women running from mutated alligators,” Phil explained.
“The only alligators in sight are emotional ones,” Ruth added approvingly.
“And I particularly loved how you described her eyes as ‘organizing the chaos in his mind,’” Helen said. “Very poetic for a man who once compared love to a zombie apocalypse.”
Chad rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture Daisy had noticed he did when feeling uncomfortable with praise. “Yeah, well… Daisy’s been giving me some books to read.”
“You read them?” Daisy said, unable to conceal her surprise. And even admiration.
“Well. Yeah.”
The room fell silent as every member of the group observed this small moment of acknowledgment. Daisy’s eyes met Chad’s, then quickly darted away, but not before everyone caught the soft smile that played across her lips.
Mags clapped her hands together. “And now for Daisy’s pages. I must say, your male lead has undergone quite the transformation. Rick used to be as exciting as dry toast — no offense, dear — but now he’s got an edge. A playfulness. A certain... roguish charm.”
“He was a bit flat before,” Daisy admitted. “I realized he needed more dimension. More spontaneity.”
“And he just happens to volunteer coach pee wee baseball now?” Ruth asked innocently.
“And have a ‘crooked grin that made her stomach flip like she was on a roller coaster’?” Bernie quoted from the pages, his bushy eyebrows waggling.
Daisy shifted uncomfortably. “It’s fiction, everyone.”
“The best fiction comes from truth,” Helen said gently.
“Speaking of truth,” Mags interjected, “let me remind you all that the deadline for the Heartstrings Publishing contest is one week from today. All submissions must be received by midnight next Friday.”
A collective groan rose from the group.
“Already?” Phil complained. “I’m still trying to figure out how to make a chemical engineer sound sexy.”
“Focus on his hands,” Liv suggested. “Engineers have capable hands.”
As the conversation devolved into a debate about what professions made the sexiest romantic leads, Daisy nudged Chad with her elbow.
“I read your ending,” she whispered. “Where Brandon’s ghost muse has to leave.”
“What’d you think?”
