“Zoey said later that same evening, pulling a heavy bound pad from the drawer of her desk. “I’ve been writing in it for years.” “I didn’t know you wrote,” Lucas said, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Well, I write, I just never finish anything,” Zoey admitted. “What do you write?” Zoey made a face and smiled self-deprecatingly. “You’ll just laugh.” “I promise I won’t.” He crossed his heart and looked solemn. “I’ve written the first chapter of a romance novel about twenty-five times. Always chapt...er one, or else just a single scene. I have about a hundred and twenty pages altogether.” Lucas smiled. “Romance novel? You mean like those books with the covers where some half-naked guy is groping a woman whose dress is falling off?” “Yeah, and the woman always has these big double-D-cup buffers squeezing out of a B-cup bodice. Except in mine the heroine is always normal size. Maybe even a little on the small end of the spectrum.” “And how about the hero?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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