Chapter 4

I opened my laptop, fingers itching to check my novel’s progress. The Spicy Book Bitches – our lovingly named beta reader group – had been blowing up my phone with their reactions.

“OMG! The ending! How can you do me this dirty, you bitch! *cry emoji x5*”

“The sex scenes were… scorching! I need a Haides of my own!”

“The ending had me in tears! Bravo, Kore! You did it!”

I took a gulp of hard cider, toasting the success of my book. I couldn’t help but wonder if Callie, my editor and best friend, would enjoy it, too. Sending the manuscript to her was like handing over a piece of my heart.

Callie was a kickass editor with an impeccable eye for detail and an uncanny ability to get me to dig deeper into my characters. It was her feedback that had me rewriting the final act of the novel. It was terrifying and exhilarating to send her my work, knowing that she would rip it apart and then help me piece it back together into something better. But it was the only way forward.

With a momentary lack of confidence, I poked my laptop screen and sent off the file. A jolt of fear shot through my core, but it was too late to take it back.

After sending my best work off to my best friend, I poured myself another drink. This would be a night of celebration, even if alone, because it was the first step in publishing my story. It was a story that I had visualized countless times, living it through my characters, but here we were, ready to take the leap.

My phone lit up, a message from one of my beta readers:

“Cora, I’m still in love with Haides. What a gorgeous, misunderstood villain! How did you create such a perfect dark-romantic character? You have a talent, girl. This novel is going to be BIG.”

I took a deep breath, sipped my drink, and savored the moment. My work was done, and my baby was in the hands of the people I trusted the most.

That night, I lay in bed, surrounded by pillows and a blanket of satisfaction. I ran my fingers over my phone, scrolling through the messages. I thought back to my old high school English teacher, Mr. Petridis. He had encouraged us to forge our own paths and not let anyone define our capabilities. He had seen potential in me when I didn’t see it in myself. I had been a troubled kid, but he had faith in me. It was a bittersweet reminder of how far I had come and how much I had grown. I hoped he was proud of me. Well, minus the fact I used the skills he helped me develop, writing pure and utter smut.

Snuggled into my favorite blanket, I drifted between slumber and wakefulness. In my haze, I dreamed of Haides, the enigmatic creation of my imagination. He was embracing me, his strength and delicate touch leaving me breathless. The dream version of him was so different from the character I had penned, who was stoic, emotionally distant, and often brutal. Here, he was gentle and kind. Was that the true Haides? Or just the one I wanted to see?

I sat up in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. The dream clung to me like a wisp of smoke, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease. I pushed the covers back, needing to move, to do something to shake off the unsettling feeling. I padded over to the window and looked out at the city below. The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the rooftops, and the air was crisp and clean.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to focus on the present, on the reality of my life. I was Cora Lappa, a twenty-seven-year-old florist with a passion for dark romance novels. I had a best friend who was more like a sister. I lived with my mom and had an unhealthy obsession with dark chocolate. My life wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.

And yet, the dream lingered. Haides felt more real than ever. His touch, his voice, the way he looked at me… it was all so vivid, so intense. Was it possible that I had created something so real that he had transcended the boundaries of my imagination?

I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. It was just a dream, I told myself. A product of my overactive imagination. However, as I uttered the words, I couldn’t ignore the nagging sense that there was more to the situation.

A notification popped up on my phone, rousing me from my musings. It was Callie. “The ending was sooo perfect. I. AM. OBSESSED. This is going to be HUGE! Can’t wait to see people’s reactions!” Her last message sent a rush of excitement through me. I struggled to contain my glee, and a wide grin split my face.

I took a breath and decided to reply later. For now, I would savor the moment and relish in the glory that was my masterpiece. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, and imagined the day when my book would be on the shelves of bookstores alongside my favorite authors. It was a delightful thought, one that made my throat tighten and my eyes sting. I felt like I was finally in control of my life, my career, and my happiness. This was my destiny, I was sure of it.