Double Seduction: (2) Loneliness

 

Fictional Kevin and I are collaborating on a novella of suspense that we hope you all will enjoy. Kevin wrote the first chapter, I have written the second. We’ll continue to alternate writing and posting a chapter a week until the conclusion of Double Seduction. We are both anxious to hear your comments and feedback.  If you missed the first chapter, find it here.

Chapter 2 – Loneliness

Divorced. It was final. After eighteen long months, the dissolution of Dr. Melody Rivers’ marriage was official. Mel sat back in her leather armchair and sipped her merlot. She would allow herself one glass of wine in celebration. She wasn’t however, feeling very celebratory. Jack had nearly ruined her. He’d taken their house, their Chiropractic practice and nearly all of their friends. Mel was the one who had to start over from scratch. When she’d signed the business contract with her now ex-husband, she never imagined the clause compelling her to move at least twenty-five miles away to open another office would ever have to be enforced. She and Jack had married right out of Chiropractic college, and they had been so in love. It had blinded her to the implications of owning a business with someone. But oh, the lessons she’d learned. How quickly love can turn into hate.

Sighing, she set the letter from her lawyer on the desk and powered up her laptop. Thank goodness she’d had her writing to help her through the whole ordeal. Who would have imagined that a woman fighting in a nasty divorce could be a successful romance author? Mel smiled, thinking of those few tentative words she’d penned in her notebook. Her first two novels were Amazon best-sellers, the third was quickly achieving that status. She had a fantastic group of followers on her blog and her recent queries had been welcomed by two literary agents. Finally. She was actually going to have an agent. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Jack!

She scrolled through the Reader till she found it —a post by her favorite blogging buddy. He called himself Fictional David. Today, he’d written another piece about his girlfriend, Savannah. Mel had no way of knowing whether or not that was her real name, but every time she read one of these posts, she felt just a little twinge of jealousy. David was so romantic. The posts about Savannah were usually pretty steamy and Mel imagined someone loving her that way. Maybe even David. This post was like that. The header image showed a naked couple, strategically covered by sheets. A black and white photo of two beautiful bodies, neither face visible to the viewer. Muscle and curve, a swell of breast and a mane of long hair. Mel sighed again, her heart beating just a little faster in her chest. She took another sip of the wine.

Her eyes drifted to David’s avatar — a pencil drawing, very artistic. It portrayed a handsome, strong-jawed, dark-haired man. Mel knew it was foolish because there was no way to know, but that’s how she pictured David: tall, dark and handsome. They were close in age, according to his blog bio, so they could talk as contemporaries. Mel liked that about him, too.

She read the post and commented like she always did, with praise for his writing and the sentiments it expressed. In the few months they’d been connected through their blogs, she and David had formed a friendship. Well, at least as close to a friendship one could have through online interactions, anyway. They joked around and teased each other. He even featured her in one of his posts a couple weeks back. Mel had been ridiculously flattered. She responded with a post of her own. That’s when he suggested they correspond through e-mail. How could she resist?

“That’s what loneliness will do you,” she murmured under her breath. “Have you grasping at the first sign of attention someone shows you. I must be out of my mind.”

She began typing: Dear David… No, too formal. Hey, David… Better. I’m really happy we connected, too. Thanks for your kind words… Delete. Delete. Delete. Why was this so hard? They talked on their blogs almost every day. She started again.

Hey, David! I’m really glad you gave me your e-mail address. Sometimes I feel like we’re just clogging up the comments with our nonsense! Although, it doesn’t seem like anyone minds it. I hope you had a great day. I’m off to bed early, I have a busy one tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know I was happy to share my private e-mail with you. I’ll be in touch. Goodnight. Sweet dreams. Mel

She hit send, immediately regretted it. Was the ‘sweet dreams’ too much? What if he got the wrong idea?

“Well, too late now,” she said.

After draining the last of her wine, she rinsed out the glass and went upstairs to her bedroom. While the bath filled, she stripped naked and looked at herself in the mirror. Gone were the soft curves of eighteen months ago. They’d been replaced by sleek muscle, lean and strong. She stretched her arms overhead and smiled. She looked a lot like the woman on David’s blog. What would he think of that? Piling her long hair up in a messy bun, she slid into the warm bubbles and hummed with pleasure. “Sweet dreams, David.”

Continue reading Chapter 3

Romance Reality Check

Ah, love… Who doesn’t love love? But love in the world of fiction is a funny thing. It’s exciting and passionate and heroic or tragic, even. Two deeply flawed individuals meet, they initially hate each other, conflict arises, circumstances force them together. They find common ground, the struggle they face brings out the best qualities in both of them. They fall desperately, hopelessly in love and live happily ever after. Or if the story ends tragically and the lovers are kept apart, our hearts are broken. Nevertheless, happy ending or no, fictional romances are interesting.

My question for you all to ponder is this: Do love stories give us unrealistic expectations about how things should play out in the real world? Maybe. For example, have you noticed a trend toward super romantic, totally contrived and staged proposals? Do we now expect to be taken up in hot air balloons, on rides in horse-drawn carriages, proposed to on the Jumbotron? Seriously, if someone did that to me, I’d say no just to screw with them.  Did you hear about that idiot who stopped traffic on a freeway to propose and ended up getting arrested?  He’s lucky he didn’t get run over.  Moron.  Anyway, is this what it’s come to? Having to make grand, sweeping, over-the-top gestures of true love?  It makes my eyes roll so far back in my head I can see behind me. How about just going out for a nice dinner? Really, if you want to surprise someone with a ring, do it under the most ordinary circumstances. Or leave the ring in the fridge next to the ketchup or something. That would be surprising.

By now you’re thinking, “Boy howdy, that Meg’s not romantic at all. Somebody musta done her wrong somewheres.” (You’d be thinking that in your old timey cowboy voice.) Ok, truth be told, I have had a couple messed up relationships. However, so have a lot of people and that doesn’t put them off romance. And that goes for me as well. I just think we need to be realistic in our expectations of love in the real world. It’s not all candlelight and flowers and everyone looking like a supermodel. Or Aidan Turner, damn it.  (I’m shameless, I know.)

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Image via Buzzfeed

 

Sometimes the little things can be just as romantic. Like snuggling under the covers on a rainy morning. Or being told you’re beautiful (or handsome) even when your hair is a mess and you don’t have makeup on (or the dude equivalent of that). Or combining your finances and your music collection, even if you hate their Steely Dan albums. (Ok, my Steely Dan albums. No judging.) And kissing even when you’re not going to have sex.

All right, you get the idea. And everyone’s list will be unique anyway. The point is the little things that happen every day can be just as wonderful and loving and romantic as the big shiny things that DeBeers tries to sell you. Or that romance novels lead you to believe. Don’t let fictional romance ruin the real thing for you. Everybody deserves a happy ending.

Love, Meg

What do you think, writers and readers?  What does romance mean to you?