before.
Jessica hadn't written a word since. She had been writing erotic novels for the past two years, and she'd had pretty good success with it. A couple of her other books had made the best seller lists, and she was earning a comfortable, but not spectacular, living as an author.
Until writer's block set in, that is. Jessica picked up the well-worn Kindle from the crumpled sheets and turned it on again to read the first chapter one more time, hoping to get some sort of inspiration so she could start writing again. Every writer gets blocked from time to time, but if it gets to be a habit, it gets hard to pay the rent. Rent in this part of town wasn't exactly cheap, even if she did have a roommate to help share the expenses.
“Are you reading that book again?, asked Amber Mitchell, Jessica's roommate. “You must have every word of that book memorized by now.”
“I'm just trying to find some inspiration. I've written this entire series of books about Brandon and Rachel, and in the last one, they decided to get married. I just don't know if I can do anything with those characters anymore. What am I going to write about now?.”
“Why don't you write the same stuff everyone else does? Just have the girl meet up with a hunky billionaire. They meet cute, engage in a little BDSM, and live happily ever after.”
“Oh, please! Another Fifty Shades of Grey? Do you have any idea how many books have been written like that? Probably hundreds. They're all the same; every other guy on the street is a billionaire. They're all rich, gorgeous, multilingual and under thirty. And they're all brooding, difficult, into bondage, and of course, obsessed with the young, virginal ingenue who thinks she can tame him so they can live happily ever after.”
“Well, those stories are successful, so it's obviously a winning formula. I like them; I've probably read Fifty Shades of Grey five times. Why not copy the formula and cash in?”
“I'm not interested in 'cashing in' on whatever happens to be popular right now. I'd like to write something a little more unique. Besides, I don't even know if I can write that sort of thing. It's not as though I actually know any billionaires. Do you?”
“No, but you might meet one or two if you ever got out of the house. How long has it been since you had a date, anyway?”
“Too long.” Jessica sighed. She really hadn't had a date, at least a serious one, in several months. She'd met a couple of guys through Amber when they went out for drinks, but none of the guys had really interested her. Jessica didn't think of herself as a snob, per se, but as someone with a solid income in a lousy economy, she was hoping to meet someone who at least had a steady job with some sort of potential. The guys Amber kept introducing to her were mostly either in between jobs or working at something temporary. Jessica was hoping for something better.
Amber, on the other hand, was more of the free-spirited, “live for the moment” type. An attractive redhead, with blue eyes and a figure any woman would kill for, Amber worked as a barista in a local coffee shop and had a semi-steady boyfriend named Jason. He worked at an auto parts store, but the two of them seemed happy. Amber was happy to take life one day at a time. Jessica was still hoping to get swept off of her feet by one of those strong, silent, brooding men she so often wrote about.
That is, when she had something to write about. Right now, she was just drawing a complete blank. Writing about another billionaire with a predilection for tying up young women in his mansion/dungeon/playroom just seemed like a cop out.
Everybody is writing those books right now. I'm not going to do it just to make money.
Jessica reached for the lamp on the nightstand, and rolled over and went to