Forget being creatively blocked. Forget being purple. They just want to survive the process of writing the book!
When she hits the writer’s block of all writer’s blocks, Lindsey Prince thinks her muse has abandoned her. But she opens her door one day to find a gorgeous new one standing there, “anxious” to help her finish her current project. There’s only one problem… her new muse, Zahn, has been turned purple by Calliope, Chief of the Muses, for indulging in Purple Prose. Unfortunately, his fate rests on Lindsey submitting a purple prose free manuscript to her editor. No pressure there.
To make matters worse, Zahn apparently has a powerful and cranky ex-girlfriend who isn’t all that thrilled by the growing attraction between Lindsey and Zahn. She’ll do anything to stop Lindsey from submitting that manuscript. Anything. Based on the extremely heated “research” she and Zahn have been indulging in, Lindsey knows her sexy IR story will sizzle. She only needs to live through the process of writing it.
No easy task, that.
Night Owl Reviews Top Pick! “I have to say that I absolutely love this book. It has humor, action, jealousy, and a super sexy purple man, so basically it has everything. I highly recommend this book to romance lovers who aren’t afraid of a little humor and some bad (or good) purple prose.”
“So,” the beautiful muse said over hot rolls and maple butter, “have you had sex with Zahn yet?”
A fat piece of buttery roll went down the wrong pipe, and I choked and heaved, trying to hork it back up out of my windpipe. Astis pounded me on the back in, apparently, the Greek Olympian version of the Heimlich. I flew off my chair and landed in a choking puddle on the carpet of my favorite steak restaurant.
I jumped to my feet, beyond embarrassed, and hacked up the chunk of roll. I sat back down, red-faced and teary-eyed.
“Are you okay?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Somehow, I didn’t believe she cared.
As we’d been leaving the house, Mike had squawked loudly and flung himself at my shoulder, trying in vain to hold me in the house. While he hadn’t been able to keep me home, his frantic concern left its mark, making me wonder about Astis’s motives. Or maybe my doubts centered on the way she had continued to butter her roll, not even looking at me as I faced death on the floor.
I pushed the rest of my roll away with a grimace. I’d really been enjoying it, too.
“So? You haven’t answered my question.”
I looked frantically around the restaurant, trying to find something else to talk about. Nothing came to me. Finally, under the piercing impact of her intent gaze, I opened my mouth. “Well, that’s a pretty dress.” I blinked, feeling stupid but determined not to give in to her bullying tactics and spill my guts.
She looked down, still chewing. Figures she’d be one of those people who actually chewed their food several times before swallowing it. Personally, I preferred the canine method. Beat it a couple of times with your tongue and then shove it down your throat before it starts to fight back. That could explain why I choked on my food a lot.
“This old thing?”
With what looked like real gold braid and two hundred year old lace, that “old thing” was probably worth more than my entire year’s earnings. It was a bit much for the restaurant we were currently sitting in. It had been garnering looks from the restaurant patrons since we’d scuttled—okay, I’m the only one who scuttled—in some forty-five minutes earlier.
The waiter brought our salads. He set mine down in front of me. “Are you sure you can handle this, or should I dial 9-1-1 now?”
I glared at him. “No tip for you.”
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USA Today Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.
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