Plotting to Win by Tara Chevrestt Read Free Book Online

military writer, send your manuscript to a romance agent? Did you stop and read the description by the agent?”
    Roy’s red face paled, and he cleared his throat. “I thought — it seemed — they were all romance or young adult —”
    “Each agent, like a publisher, is seeking certain genres. Part of being a writer is being patient and taking the time to do the right things at the right time. You must pay closer attention. That’s a wasted query.”
    “Dez,” Ms. Roberts said.
    “Ma’am.”
    “You go on and on about the book for four paragraphs. In the query letter, they ask for a blurb, not an entire synopsis of the story. Do you know what the difference between a blurb and synopsis is?”
    “Apparently not.”
    Laughter and chuckles sounded. Felicity found herself sharing an amused glance with Victor. A tingle ran up her spine, which she quickly tried to ignore.
    “A blurb is like what you read on the back of a book to determine if you, the reader, wants to read it or not. A synopsis is a play-by-play summary, outlining every chapter, the conflict, the ending. According to the literary agent you chose, the instructions were to attach a separate synopsis, not combine it all in your blurb. So once again, I cannot stress enough the importance of following instructions.”
    In unison, the contestants nodded.
    “The winner of the first challenge is Tiffani,” Ophelia announced. “Tiffani, you will have the power to manipulate the first elimination challenge.”
    “Yes!” the erotic writer screeched.
    “We’ll never hear the end of this,” Felicity murmured to Victor, surprising both herself and him.
    He leaned into her, his breath caressing her ear and causing her heartbeat to race. “Fornicating dolphins. That is all.”
    Felicity threw her head back and let loose a freeing and invigorating burst of laughter. It felt good after the tension of being judged.
    As they headed back to the loft, she vowed this would be her only minor setback.
    “How do you feel about the first challenge?” the cameraman asked.
    Tiffani shifted, and the top of her dress shifted with her, revealing a daring amount of cleavage. “I’m thrilled. I came in here to win this thing, but from the get-go, I got an attitude from Miss Know-It-All and I didn’t appreciate her comments the other night. I think I’m going to kick her ass to the curb and she’s gonna be hella surprised. I write sex because I like sex. Who doesn’t like sex? I mean, besides that prude in there, ya know?” The blonde grinned as she pointed in the direction of the loft. “Probably never been kissed.” She let out an unladylike snort. “Just think she may end up pretty surprised.”
    “So, we never got to finish our talk last night.” The words came from behind her, and Felicity swung around, resting her back against the balcony railing so she could focus on him.
    “What talk was that? How you’re trying to throw me off my game?” She couldn’t help but smile at the handsome Latino, even though she was supposed to be mad. He was throwing her off her game — a little bit.
    Victor laughed — a head thrown back and white teeth flashing kind of laugh —sending an ache straight to her groin. Competition or not, she was attracted to this guy, at least physically.
    He stood next to her and braced his elbows on the iron rail. Below them, cars and people vied for space in the New York City streets. Pieces of trash caught rides on the breeze. Pigeons walked with their awkward gait on the sidewalk, dodging feet and seeking scraps. Sunlight glinted off his sunglasses.
    “You started a thread last night, but we got sidetracked, about why we write what we do.” He looked at her. She could smell him, his aftershave, and she fought the urge to take a deep whiff.
    “I write romance for two reasons. One,” she held up her index finger, “so I can dispel the notion that all women in romance novels are damsels in distress. Mine aren’t those ditzy ladies.