Chapter 1

Rob Donovan sat at Java Cupid in the corner, where he could see everyone as they came and went. He needed something interesting to happen, something that would inspire him and get him out of his writer’s block. The deadline on his next book was less than a month away, and he was thirty-five thousand words short of the seventy-five-thousand word minimum requirement. Come on, he thought, drop something, kiss someone, have a coffee bar brawl, give me something, anything.

His fingers moved over the keyboard as he typed out a scene of a coffee bar brawl. Then he shook his head as he realized how ridiculous it was and erased it all. He sighed and put his head in his hands. His coffee was cold, and he was out of snacks. He’d been here an hour and had nothing to show for it.

“Excuse me.”

Rob looked over at the woman at the table on his right who’d just spoken. She was breathtakingly beautiful. “Me?”

She smiled, and his pulse sped up like a trip hammer. “Yes, um, could you watch my things for a minute? I need ... ummm...” She blushed, and Robin laughed.

“Gotcha, sure. I’ll make sure no one messes with anything.”

“Thank you.” She hurriedly stood and headed for the restrooms that sat between the coffee shop and the bar and grill. Rob pulled up a character sheet and hastily described her. Five foot five, long sun-bleached blonde hair, cupid’s bow lips, bubble-gum pink. Right eye golden brown, left eye ice blue. Curves in all the right places, early twenties.

Then he typed: Name? Occupation?

After that, he opened a new document and titled it, “Love at the Coffee Shop.”

He started typing away. He was thankful. It wasn’t the book he had been working on, but this was an open deadline book, meaning he just needed to meet the deadlines with a romantic novel. It wasn’t for one of his multi-author series. Those had to follow the format and plot ideas he’d already submitted. No, this was for a romance contest and would allow him a discounted table at the convention later this year.

He looked up as he felt someone approach the lady’s table. He smiled when he saw it was her. “Nothing’s missing except the five hundred dollars I took from your backpack there. Table security fee.”

The girl laughed, and it sounded like little tiny bells tinkling together, sending his pulse on another run and causing other places to get a bit uncomfortable in a very pleasant way.

“Well, if you found five-hundred dollars in that bag, then you deserve it. Thank you for watching everything. I didn’t want to lose this outstanding table. I can’t watch everyone from elsewhere.”

He nodded and indicated his table. “That’s why I’m sitting here. It’s the best seat for people watching.”

She smiled a brief grin. “Yes, it is. I was going to sit there, but some hot guy in an American Eagle T-shirt was sitting there when I got here.”

That uncomfortable feeling got tighter. She thought he was hot. “Really? Well, that’s strange; I didn’t see anyone here when I arrived, I must have just missed him. Maybe you should describe him to me, so I can take some notes.”

She smiled. “Well, I could just let you copy my notes if you really want.” She turned her smart book screen toward him, and it shocked him to see the character sheet from the writing program he used.

“Are you an author?”

Her smile faded, and he wanted to say anything to put it back on her face again.

“No, an author has stuff published. I don’t have anything published yet. I’m just a wanna-be writer.”

He reached out and took her chin in his hands. The spark of electricity that ran through him was almost intense enough to make him let go. Her breath caught, so he knew she’d felt it, too. Well, what do you know that really does happen! I thought it was just literary devices to explain the unexplainable. “Darling, there is no such thing as a wanna-be writer. If you have that program and are putting words on a manuscript, you’re a writer. The author part will come in time.”

He let go of her face, but not before trailing the back of his hand across her cheek.

“I hope so.”

He smiled. “Trust me on this, I know.”

He flipped his MacBook around so she could see the character sheet he’d been working on for her.

Her eyes got big. “You’re an author? Really?”

“Yep, sure am.”

He saw it forming on her face, the question all authors hated to get asked, but everyone always asked when they found out he was an author, so he said it with her. “Have you written anything I might have read?”

She laughed. “You get asked that a lot?”

He grinned. “Anytime someone finds out, I’m an author for the first time.”

“Oh well, sorry, but the question remains, have I?”

“Do you read a lot?” he asked.

“Yes, all the time.”

“Well, not all the time. You’re not reading at the moment. You were writing, then you went to the facilities, and now you’re talking.”

She slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.”

He grinned. “Well, what do you read? What genres?” She blushed, and he laughed. “Ah, a romance reader.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder if that bubble-gum pink lip tasted like bubble gum. “What kind of romance do you read?”

“Oh, all kinds, Historical, Modern, Regency, right now I’m reading this really cool Paranormal Romance series.” She reached for her backpack and pulled out his last book. “Have you heard of this series? It’s the hottest thing right now.”

He grinned. “I have heard of those, yes. And I would have to say in answer to your earlier question, you most definitely have read my work.”

“Really, you write romance? I only know of one other guy who writes romance novels. As a matter of fact, this guy,” she held his book up. “What’s your name? I want to see if I have any of your books.” She grabbed her kindle from the backpack.

He laughed. “I promise you that you’ve read at least two of my books if you’ve been reading that series.”

Her eyes got big. “You’re R.G. Donovan, the guy who created the Phantom Horse Bridge Series?”

“My friends call me Rob or Robin, but, yep, that’s me.”

“Oh my God!! Can we take a selfie together? My writers’ group will not believe this.”

Rob laughed. “Tell you what, let’s get someone to take it for us; that way we won’t have that weird big forehead thing everyone has in selfies.”

Rob saw the special needs kid that worked as a busboy just a couple of tables away. “Hey Charlie, come here.”

The young man put his tub of dishes on the table and came over to him. “Hello, Mr. Rob. You need refill?”

Rob shook his head. “Not this time, buddy. Do you know how to take pictures with that kind of camera?” He pointed to the girl’s cell phone?

Charlie grinned and nodded. “I has one jes like it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. “See?”

“That’s awesome, buddy, would you take a picture of me and...”

“Aurora.”

Charlie’s eyes widened even more than they normally were. “Like the Disney Princess?”

“Yes, just like the Disney Princess. My mom named me after her. She also named my sisters after Disney Princesses.”