She’d always written about these feelings but realized she’d never felt them herself.
“I let him fuel me to just spite him. To prove that romance could be good and make money.”
“So it’s not what you wanted to do?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said. “It was never in my mind. I had plans to write true crime, mystery, and thrillers. Not to compete with my mother, but close enough.”
“And what changed that? I enjoy finding these things out about you.”
“I’ll tell you and then I expect you to tell me the person who dug at you,” she said. “Deal?”
She stuck her hand out and he slapped his large one in it. She tried to squeeze it tight but didn’t accomplish what she hoped when her fingers couldn’t even wrap around. He laughed and barely squeezed hers but enough to have her yanking it back.
“Deal,” he said.
“So, I never cared for romance myself. Don’t you ever say I said that! There isn’t anything wrong with it or any other genre. It’s just not what I read or liked back then. But since he was on his high horse, I wanted to pop him off with a broom. I bought a bunch of romance novels to get an idea of what readers were looking for.”
“Research,” he said.
“Oh yeah. I hadn’t expected to get turned on reading them, but hey, there is a positive. And they were fantastic. I mean, it was so nice to read happy endings.”
“Arousal is a good one to have,” he said, snickering. “I know that’s how I feel reading your books.”
“It tells me I’m doing a good job there. But, back to Stanley, who I’m positive only gets off by his own hand.”
“Emma,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“See, not always so proper and polite.”
“No one said anything about being proper.”
“Nope,” she said, smirking. “Back to me. I like talking about me. I don’t do it much. Thanks for listening.” She was moving her hands around more than normal while she talked. “Once I got a good idea of what readers would want, I decided to give it a try. I drafted my first romantic suspense. It was rough and needed work. It wasn’t my best, but I was determined.”
“And that determination has paid off,” he said. “I bet good old Stanley isn’t looking down on romance now.”
“Sure, he is,” she said. “Those types of people never change, Warren. Ever. Don’t forget that either. Now tell me who dug at you.”
He was silent and she poked him in the side until he talked.
“My father,” he said. “And trust me, he’ll never change either.”
24
ALWAYS WANT THE DIRT
Warren’s phone rang the next night. Emma cleaned up dinner and lost herself in her writing. She hadn’t planned on it, she’d said, but he’d given her an idea while they were talking about her book and she was off and running.
He picked his phone up and saw it was his mother calling, so he answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Warren. Is this a bad time?”
“No,” he said. “I’m just flipping through the TV trying to find something to watch.”
“I thought Emma was there until tomorrow,” his mother said.
“She is, but she’s writing right now.”
There was a humph sound on the other line. “I figured you’d be spending time together.”
