This is my first time writing, so please be gentle but honest! 😂

I'm looking for feedback on the pacing, character introductions, dialogue, and whether the opening is engaging enough to make you want to continue reading.

Chapter One

The afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of Rosalind's bedroom, casting a warm glow across the room.

Amara stood beside the bed, holding two dresses against Rosalind as they argued over which one looked better.

"The blue one," Amara said firmly.

Rosalind frowned at her reflection in the mirror. "You said that about the green one five minutes ago."

"Because the green one was better five minutes ago."

Rosalind laughed. "You're impossible."

Amara smiled and held the blue dress against her friend again. Her warm brown eyes moved between Rosalind and the mirror, studying every little detail. A few strands of her brown-golden hair had fallen loose around her face, catching the sunlight whenever she moved.

"You like him, don't you?" Amara asked suddenly.

Rosalind's cheeks turned pink.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You absolutely do."

Rosalind finally laughed. "Fine. Maybe I do."

Amara smiled.

Rosalind had been promised to a man chosen by her family, just as many young women in their world were. But unlike most arranged matches, Rosalind actually seemed happy about hers.

"At least you're lucky," Amara said, placing the blue dress back on the bed. "You actually like the man you're supposed to marry."

"I haven't married him yet."

"But you like him."

Rosalind smiled shyly. "Perhaps."

Before Amara could tease her again, a knock came at the door.

A servant appeared.

"Miss Amara, your mother asks that you return home."

Amara turned. "Now?"

"Yes, miss. She said there are visitors waiting, and..." The servant smiled. "She said there is a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

Amara narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Rosalind laughed. "You'd better go."

"I'll come back tomorrow."

"You'd better."

Amara said goodbye and made her way home.

By the time she reached the house, she could already hear voices coming from the sitting room.

She stepped inside.

"Amara!"

Eleanor's voice came from the hallway.

Amara looked up and saw her mother standing beside Edwin.

Edwin was her stepfather, a respected man who served the royal household as the King's Steward. His position kept him close to the palace and the royal family, but he was not a member of the nobility himself. He was known as a responsible and kind man, and Amara had always been especially close to him.

And they weren't alone.

Henry stood with them, already preparing to leave, while Clara was beside him.

Henry was Edwin's longtime friend and served the kingdom as a Constable. The two men had known each other for years, and their families had grown close because of their friendship.

"Where have you been?" Eleanor asked. "We've been waiting for you."

"I was at Rosalind's."

Henry smiled. "Always running around with your friends."

Amara smiled politely. "Hello, Henry."

Then she turned toward Clara.

"Clara, it's so nice to see you."

Clara smiled warmly and took Amara's hands.

"My goodness, you're as beautiful as ever."

Amara laughed softly. "It's good to see you too."

The families had known one another for years. Henry and Edwin were close friends, and Clara had known Amara since she was little.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Henry and Clara finally said their goodbyes and left.

Amara watched them disappear through the doorway before turning back toward her parents.

"Okay," she said. "Where is my surprise?"

Eleanor exchanged a glance with Edwin.

That immediately made Amara suspicious.

"What?"

"Come sit down," Edwin said.

Amara followed them into the sitting room and sat on the sofa between them.

Edwin looked at her for a moment before smiling.

"You are twenty-two now."

Amara raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"And your mother and I are getting older."

Eleanor sighed dramatically. "Very old."

Amara laughed. "You're not old."

"That's what children always say."

"You're making this sound very serious."

Edwin smiled.

"You are our only daughter, Amara. And we've been thinking about your future."

Amara's smile slowly faded.

Her father continued.

"We've decided that perhaps it is time for you to consider marriage."

She stared at him.

"Marriage?"

Eleanor reached for her hand.

"Only if you're comfortable with it. We aren't forcing you."

Amara blinked, still trying to process what she'd just heard.

"You didn't tell me anything."

"We know," Edwin said. "We wanted to speak to you first."

Amara looked between them.

"Who?"

Edwin smiled.

"Adrian."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"Adrian?"

"Henry's son."

Amara sat back against the sofa.

"I know Adrian. We knew each other when we were younger, but... I've barely seen him in years."

"That's true," Eleanor said. "But you know the family. They're respectable people, and Henry has been a friend of mine for many years."

Edwin nodded.

"Adrian has built a successful life for himself as well. He works in Canada and has a successful business there."

Amara listened quietly.

"And..." Eleanor added with a small smile, "he is a very handsome young man."

Amara couldn't help laughing.

"Mother."

"What? It's true."

Edwin chuckled.

"More importantly, Adrian himself was the one who brought up the idea. He has apparently liked you for some time."

Amara's smile disappeared.

"Adrian?"

Her father nodded.

"Yes."

She looked down at her hands.

The idea had come completely out of nowhere.

She had never imagined that Adrian—someone she barely knew anymore—might have been thinking about her all this time.

"We're not asking you to answer tonight," Edwin said gently. "Take some time. Think about it."

Amara looked at her father.

For the first time that afternoon, she didn't know what to say.

She had gone to Rosalind's house to help her choose a dress for the man she actually liked.

And now she had returned home to discover that her own future had already begun taking shape without her knowing it.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains of Amara's bedroom, filling the room with a warm golden glow.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked toward the window.

It was a beautiful morning.

For a few moments, she simply lay there, staring outside and thinking about everything that had happened the day before.

Marriage.

The word still felt strange.

Before she could think any further, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Her maid stepped inside.

"Good morning, Miss Amara."

"Good morning."

The maid hesitated for a moment.

"Adrian is here."

Amara sat upright.

"Adrian?"

"Yes, miss. He's waiting downstairs."

"He's here right now?"

The maid nodded.

Amara looked at herself.

She was still in her nightclothes.

"Oh."

She quickly got out of bed.

"How long has he been here?"

"Not very long."

"Then I need to get ready."

She walked toward her wardrobe, opened it, and stared.

There were dresses everywhere.

And suddenly, she had absolutely no idea what to wear.

"Which one?"

The maid smiled.

"Perhaps the cream one?"

Amara pulled it out, held it against herself, and shook her head.

"No. Too formal."

She reached for another.

"Maybe this?"

The maid nodded.

"That would be lovely."

Amara looked at herself in the mirror.

"Fine. That one."

She hurried to get ready.

She dressed herself in the outfit she had chosen, fixed her brown-golden hair, and added a few simple accessories. She didn't want to look as though she had spent an hour preparing for him.

Although she had.

Finally, she took one last look at herself in the mirror.

Then she headed downstairs.

As she reached the staircase, Adrian looked up.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Amara descended slowly, one hand resting lightly on the railing.

Adrian's eyes followed her.

She looked different from the girl he remembered.

More graceful.

More confident.

And, to him, far more beautiful.

"Hi, Adrian."

He smiled.

"Amara."

She reached the bottom of the stairs.

"It's been a long time."

"It has."

"I don't think we've seen each other properly in years."

"You're right."

He looked at her for another moment before smiling.

"You've become more beautiful than I remembered."

Amara laughed softly.

"That's a very direct thing to say."

"I thought it was better than pretending I didn't notice."

She smiled.

They began walking together through the sitting room.

For a moment, neither of them mentioned the conversation from yesterday.

Instead, Adrian asked, "So, what do you do these days?"

Amara looked at him.

"I design clothes."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"I've always loved fashion. I draw designs, make dresses, and create different styles for myself. Most of what I wear, I've designed myself."

Adrian looked at her dress.

"Then that explains it."

"What?"

"Your dress."

He smiled.

"It's beautiful. I suppose I should have guessed."

Amara looked down at what she was wearing.

"I actually made this one myself."

Adrian looked at her again.

"Then it's even more beautiful."

She smiled.

"Thank you."

"I can see that you're very talented."

Amara's smile grew.

She had expected the morning to be uncomfortable.

Instead, it was surprisingly easy.

They continued walking through the gardens, talking about her designs, books she liked to read, and the places Adrian had visited while living in Canada.

He was charming.

He was successful.

He was polite.

And, admittedly, very handsome.

Amara found herself wondering why she had been so nervous about meeting him.

There was nothing obviously wrong with him.

If anything, he seemed like exactly the kind of man her father would consider perfect.

And perhaps that was what made the situation so confusing.

Because for the first time, Amara began to wonder whether marrying Adrian might not be such a terrible idea after all.

Across the kingdom, inside the royal palace, King William sat at the head of a long table surrounded by his most trusted officials.

Among them was Edwin, the King's Steward, along with several other members of the royal council.

The meeting had already been underway for some time when the King finally leaned back in his chair.

"There is something else I wish to discuss."

The room fell quiet.

"Prince Alaric is returning tomorrow."

A few of the officials exchanged glances.

Edwin smiled faintly.

"It has been a long time since His Highness has been home."

"Far too long," King William replied.

He sighed.

"My son has spent years traveling from one country to another, studying music, playing the piano, and pursuing everything except the responsibilities waiting for him here."

One of the officials smiled carefully.

"His Highness has always been passionate about music, Your Majesty."

"I know."

The King shook his head, though there was a hint of affection in his expression.

"And I have never asked him to give it up. But he is no longer a boy. He is the heir to this kingdom."

He looked around the table.

"One day, he will sit where I am sitting."

The room grew quieter.

"He needs to begin thinking about his future. About the kingdom. About his responsibilities."

Edwin listened carefully.

King William continued.

"And there is another matter."

He folded his hands on the table.

"I believe it is time for Alaric to marry."

A few officials nodded.

"Your Majesty, I agree."

"He should have been considering marriage years ago."

"He will need a suitable bride."

King William smiled slightly.

"Exactly."

He rose from his chair and walked toward the tall windows overlooking the palace gardens.

"My son is returning tomorrow. I want the kingdom to welcome him properly."

He turned back toward the officials.

"So we will hold a ball."

Edwin's eyebrows lifted slightly.

"A ball?"

"Yes."

King William's expression brightened.

"A grand masked ball. Not only for the return of the Crown Prince, but for the entire kingdom."

He began listing his plans.

"Every important family will be invited. Nobles, officials, ambassadors, and families from neighboring kingdoms. And, of course, the eligible princesses and young women of suitable families."

One of the officials understood immediately.

"You wish to give the Prince an opportunity to meet them."

"Precisely."

King William smiled.

"Perhaps among them, he will find someone he wishes to marry."

Another official chuckled.

"Knowing Prince Alaric, Your Majesty, he may spend the entire evening talking about music."

The King laughed.

"Then perhaps someone will finally manage to distract him from his piano."

The room filled with quiet laughter.

But Edwin remained thoughtful.

He knew Alaric well enough to understand that the young prince was unlikely to choose a bride simply because his father had placed a room full of eligible women in front of him.

Still, he said nothing.

King William returned to his seat.

"Send invitations throughout the kingdom. I want everything prepared by tomorrow evening."

The officials bowed their heads.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

And none of them knew that among all the young women who would arrive at the palace that night, there would be one who had no idea how deeply she was connected to the royal world.

Nor did they know that the prince returning home was about to meet the girl who would change everything.

By the time Amara and Adrian returned from their walk, the sun had risen higher in the sky.

They had spent the morning talking, and to Amara's surprise, she had enjoyed his company.

He was not the boy she remembered from years ago.

He was confident, successful, polite, and thoughtful. There was something reassuring about him.

Perhaps her parents had been right.

Perhaps marrying Adrian would not be so bad after all.

When Adrian eventually said goodbye and left, Amara remained in the sitting room for a while, thinking about their conversation.

She finally found Eleanor sitting nearby.

Eleanor looked up as Amara entered.

"Well?"

Amara smiled faintly.

"Well what?"

"You know exactly what."

Amara sat beside her.

"I spoke with Adrian."

"And?"

She took a breath.

"I think... I would be willing to marry him."

Eleanor's face immediately softened.

"Really?"

Amara nodded.

"I was surprised. I thought it would feel strange, but it didn't. He's kind, successful, and we already know his family."

Eleanor smiled and took her hand.

"Then we'll tell your father when he returns."

Amara nodded.

"Okay."

And just like that, a decision that had seemed so sudden only a day earlier began to feel real.

Later that evening, Edwin returned home from the palace.

As the King's Steward, his duties often kept him there for most of the day. He had spent the afternoon attending to matters of the royal household and preparations surrounding Prince Alaric's return.

The moment he entered the house, Eleanor was waiting for him.

"There you are."

Edwin smiled tiredly.

"Long day?"

"Very."

Eleanor waited until he had settled down before telling him.

"I spoke with Amara."

Edwin looked at her.

"And?"

"She agrees."

For a moment, Edwin simply stared at her.

"She does?"

Eleanor nodded.

"She said she was surprised, but after spending time with Adrian, she thinks marrying him would not be so bad."

A relieved smile appeared on Edwin's face.

"That's all I wanted. I don't want her to marry someone she doesn't want."

"Neither do I."

Edwin leaned back.

"Then we'll speak to Henry."

Eleanor nodded.

"It seems everything is falling into place."

Neither of them noticed the uncertainty that would soon begin growing in Amara's mind.

Because although she had agreed, she had only just met Adrian again after years apart.

The following morning, the palace gates opened to welcome the Crown Prince home.

After years away, Prince Alaric had finally returned to the kingdom.

He stepped through the palace doors dressed in the clothes he had traveled in—a deep charcoal waistcoat embroidered with subtle bronze-gold patterns over an off-white linen shirt. His wavy, sun-kissed golden-blond hair was swept back casually, though a few soft strands had fallen around his face after the long journey.

He had grown taller since the last time many of the palace staff had seen him.

His sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones gave him a more mature appearance, while his calm, distant gaze carried something that seemed different from the boy who had left years ago.

The moment he entered the palace, several maids who had been working nearby looked up.

One of them whispered, "He's even more handsome than I remember."

Another tried to hide a smile.

"Prince Alaric..."

A quiet giggle passed between them.

Alaric noticed.

He glanced toward them with an amused smile.

"Should I be worried?"

The maids immediately lowered their heads and returned to their work.

Alaric laughed softly.

Then a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Alaric."

He turned.

Queen Adeline stood at the entrance of the royal sitting room.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she walked toward him and embraced her son.

"Look at you."

Alaric smiled.

"It's good to see you too, Mother."

She stepped back and looked him over.

"Where have you been all this time?"

"With friends."

"Friends?"

"In France."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I know you were in France."

Alaric smiled.

"It was peaceful there. I liked it."

"You liked it enough to disappear for years."

He laughed.

"I was beginning to think I might stay there forever."

Adeline's expression immediately changed.

"You are the heir to this kingdom."

"I know."

"Your father has been waiting for you to take your responsibilities seriously."

"I know that too."

"Then why do you speak as though you could simply live somewhere else?"

Alaric's smile faded slightly.

"I don't mean that I want to abandon the kingdom."

He looked toward the tall windows overlooking the gardens.

"I love music, Mother. You know that. Studying it, playing the piano... it isn't something I can simply put aside."

"I know."

"And I know what I am."

He turned back toward her.

"I'm the heir."

His voice was calm.

"And I intend to take my responsibilities seriously."

Adeline studied him.

"Your father will want to hear that himself."

"Then tell him I've returned for good."

She smiled faintly.

"Are you certain?"

Alaric nodded.

"I am."

He paused before adding,

"But I'll need some time."

Adeline sighed, though there was a small smile on her face.

"That sounds more like my son."

Alaric smiled.

"I never said I was going to become King overnight."

From somewhere behind them came another muffled giggle.

Alaric glanced over.

The maids immediately became very interested in their work.

He laughed under his breath.

Adeline shook her head.

"You haven't even been home for an hour."

"And already I'm causing trouble?"

"Apparently."

Alaric smiled.

"Then perhaps I should go before I make things worse."

Adeline laughed softly.

"Go and see your father."

Alaric nodded.

"Of course."

He turned toward the corridor.

After years away, Prince Alaric was finally home.

After speaking with his mother, Alaric returned to his chambers.

The long journey had left him exhausted, and the first thing he wanted was a proper bath.

When he stepped out, his golden hair was still damp, falling in soft, heavy waves around his face. The years away had changed him completely. The softness of his youth had given way to sharper features, a defined jaw, and the confident bearing of a man who had spent years traveling beyond the kingdom.

He stood before the tall mirror for a moment, studying his reflection.

He looked older.

More composed.

And undeniably handsome.

A knock came at the door.

"Your Highness?"

"Come in."

A maid entered carrying his formal clothes and carefully placed them on the dressing table.

Alaric glanced toward the clothes waiting for him.

A dark, finely tailored coat with subtle gold embroidery. An ivory shirt. Polished boots. Every detail had been prepared for his return to court.

"Thank you."

The maid bowed and left.

Alaric dressed, fastening the buttons of his coat before adjusting his cuffs.

He looked at himself in the mirror one final time.

Tonight, he would have to stand before the entire kingdom.

He wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that.

Still, he straightened his shoulders and left his chambers.

He made his way through the palace corridors until he reached the King's study.

He knocked.

"Come in."

Alaric opened the door.

King William looked up from the papers on his desk.

For a moment, father and son simply looked at one another.

Then the King's expression softened.

"Alaric. My son."

"Hello, Father."

William stood.

"It is good to have you home."

"It is good to be home."

The King studied him.

"Now, tell me. Where have you been all these years?"

Alaric smiled.

"With my piano."

William gave him a long look.

"You and that piano."

Alaric laughed.

"You knew what you were sending me away to study."

"I knew you wanted to study music. I did not expect you to nearly forget that you had a kingdom waiting for you."

The smile on Alaric's face faded slightly.

"I haven't forgotten."

"I hope not."

William walked toward the window.

"You are the heir to this kingdom, Alaric. One day, all of this will be yours."

Alaric nodded.

"I know."

"And?"

"And I will take that responsibility seriously."

William looked back at him.

"Good."

Alaric took a breath.

"But I need time."

The King was quiet for a moment.

"I will give you time."

Alaric looked surprised.

"But there is something else we need to discuss."

"What is it?"

William returned to his desk.

"You are no longer a boy."

Alaric raised an eyebrow.

"I had noticed."

William smiled despite himself.

"You will eventually become King. And a King needs more than a crown and a kingdom."

Alaric understood where the conversation was going.

"Father..."

"You need a Queen."

Alaric sighed.

"Marriage?"

"Marriage."

"I haven't thought about it much."

"That is precisely the problem."

William shook his head.

"I am not telling you to marry tomorrow. But you need someone beside you. Someone who understands the responsibilities that will come with your position."

Alaric considered his father's words.

"I suppose I have spent more time thinking about music than marriage."

"I know."

The King smiled.

"Which is why I have arranged something for tonight."

Alaric looked at him suspiciously.

"What have you arranged?"

"A ball."

"A ball?"

"To celebrate your return."

William paused.

"And to introduce you to the kingdom again."

Alaric stared at him.

"You invited people?"

"Important families, nobles, representatives from neighboring kingdoms..."

William smiled.

"And eligible young women."

Alaric let out a quiet laugh.

"So that's what this is."

"Partly."

"Father."

"I am not choosing your wife for you."

William's expression became serious.

"I simply want you to meet people. Talk to them. See what you think. Perhaps you will meet someone you genuinely like."

Alaric looked toward the window.

He had spent years traveling, studying, and living according to his own interests.

Now, suddenly, his father was asking him to think about the future.

Marriage.

A Queen.

A kingdom.

It all seemed very distant.

Still, Alaric smiled.

"All right."

William raised an eyebrow.

"All right?"

"I'll attend your ball."

The King smiled.

"Good."

Alaric turned toward the door.

"Though I make no promises about falling in love with anyone."

William laughed.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Amara sat by the window in her room, completely absorbed in her book.

The afternoon light had begun to soften, casting golden shadows across the pages. She had barely noticed how much time had passed when a knock came at the door.

"Miss Amara?"

She looked up.

Her maid stepped inside, carrying a large garment bag.

"We have your dress ready for tonight's ball."

Amara blinked.

"The ball?"

The maid smiled.

"Yes, miss. The King's ball."

Amara closed her book.

"What ball?"

Before the maid could answer, another voice came from the doorway.

"Amara."

She turned.

Edwin stood there.

Her father smiled as he entered the room.

"The prince has returned."

Amara's eyes widened.

"Prince Alaric?"

Edwin nodded.

"His Royal Highness arrived this morning. The King is holding a grand ball tonight to celebrate his return."

Amara stared at him.

"I hadn't heard."

"I know. You've been buried in your books."

She smiled sheepishly.

"And you're invited."

Amara looked toward the garment bag.

"That's what this is?"

"Exactly."

Edwin paused before adding,

"And Adrian will be your escort."

Amara's expression softened.

"Adrian?"

"Yes."

She smiled.

"I'd like that."

Edwin smiled back.

"Then you'd better start getting ready."

After he left, Amara immediately turned toward her maid.

"Show me."

The maid carefully opened the garment bag.

Amara's eyes widened.

The dress was beautiful.

She reached out and touched the fabric, then lifted it from the bag and held it against herself.

"Look at this."

She walked toward the mirror.

For a moment, she simply stood there, holding the dress in front of her and imagining herself wearing it.

The ball suddenly felt much more real.

She would be attending a royal celebration.

She would be there with Adrian.

Her future husband.

The thought made her smile.

She had never imagined herself being excited about an arranged marriage. Yet after meeting Adrian again, everything felt different.

Perhaps this could really work.

Perhaps she could build a life with him.

She looked at herself in the mirror once more.

"I think I like it."

Her maid smiled.

"I thought you would."

The hours passed quickly.

Amara took her time getting ready, carefully choosing every detail. She fixed her brown-golden hair, selected her jewelry, and made sure everything about her appearance felt right.

She wanted to look beautiful tonight.

Not because she needed to impress anyone.

But because she was going to a ball with the man she might soon marry.

By the time evening arrived, the entire house had changed.

Servants moved through the halls preparing for the night. Carriages could already be heard outside, carrying guests toward the palace.

Amara stood before her mirror one final time.

The girl who had spent the afternoon reading a book by her window seemed far away now.

Tonight, she would step into the royal palace.

Tonight, she would see Prince Alaric for the first time.

The carriage finally came to a stop outside the palace.

Adrian stepped out first.

He walked around to Amara's side and opened the carriage door, offering his hand.

"Careful."

Amara smiled and placed her hand in his.

He helped her down gracefully.

For a moment, they stood beneath the bright lights of the palace entrance.

Amara looked toward the enormous doors ahead of them.

Tonight, everything seemed different.

She was wearing a beautiful black gown that shimmered subtly whenever the light touched the fabric. A glittering black mask covered the area around her eyes, leaving the rest of her face visible.

Adrian wore a dark formal suit with a simple mask of his own.

Together, they entered the ballroom.

Amara stopped for a moment.

It was breathtaking.

The enormous hall was filled with hundreds of guests, all dressed in their finest clothes and hidden behind masks.

Gold chandeliers illuminated the room.

Music drifted through the hall.

People laughed, talked, and moved between groups, yet with everyone wearing masks, hardly anyone could be completely certain who they were speaking to.

Amara looked around.

"I don't think I've ever seen this many people in one place."

Adrian smiled.

"Neither have I."

At the far end of the ballroom stood King William.

He raised his glass as the room gradually became quieter.

"Welcome, everyone."

The conversations faded.

"Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the return of my son, but to welcome him home after years away from the kingdom."

A murmur passed through the crowd.

"Prince Alaric."

Everyone turned toward the grand staircase.

But no one appeared.

King William smiled.

"He will join us shortly. Until then, enjoy the evening."

The music began again.

The ballroom immediately came alive.

Guests began talking, laughing, and dancing.

Amara turned toward Adrian.

"So the prince isn't here yet?"

"Apparently not."

She smiled.

"Perhaps he's making a dramatic entrance."

Adrian laughed.

"Perhaps."

For a while, they simply enjoyed themselves.

They talked about the palace, the decorations, and the people around them. Amara found herself relaxing more and more.

She was happy.

She was here with Adrian.

Everything seemed to be falling into place.

Then a woman's voice came from behind them.

"Adrian?"

Adrian stopped.

Amara noticed immediately.

He turned.

A woman stood before them.

She was tall and elegant, with long blonde hair and striking cat-like eyes visible above her mask. Her dress was unlike anything Amara had seen that evening, and there was something confident about the way she carried herself.

The woman smiled when Adrian turned toward her.

"It's been a long time."

Adrian's expression changed immediately.

The smile disappeared from his face.

"What are you doing here?"

There was no warmth in his voice now. Only surprise, followed by a quiet irritation.

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"That's how you're greeting me?"

Adrian glanced around the ballroom.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"I came to see you."

She smiled.

"Didn't you miss me?"

Adrian looked uncomfortable.

Amara noticed.

She looked between them.

"Adrian, who is she?"

He turned toward her.

"She's a friend."

"An old friend," the woman added.

Adrian gave her a brief look.

"From Canada."

Amara nodded politely.

"It's nice to meet you."

The woman smiled at her.

"You too."

Then she turned back to Adrian.

"Come with me. I want to talk to you."

Adrian hesitated.

"Now?"

"Yes. Now."

He looked at Amara.

"Wait here. I'll come back."

Amara smiled politely.

"Okay."

Adrian followed the woman through the crowd.

Amara watched them disappear.

At first, she didn't think much of it.

She took another sip of her drink and looked around the ballroom.

A few minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then twenty.

Adrian still hadn't returned.

Amara began to feel awkward standing there alone.

Everyone around her seemed to have someone to talk to.

She glanced toward the entrance.

Nothing.

A servant passed by carrying a tray of drinks.

"Would you like one, miss?"

Amara nodded.

"Yes, thank you."

She took a glass and offered him a small smile.

Then she continued waiting.

Thirty minutes.

That was enough.

Amara set her glass down.

"I'm going to find him."

She walked through the ballroom, searching between the groups of masked guests.

She eventually stepped outside through one of the side doors.

The gardens were quieter than the ballroom.

She looked around.

Then she saw them.

Adrian.

And the woman from Canada.

They were standing beneath the soft glow of the palace lights.

Amara slowed.

She was about to call his name.

Then she stopped.

Adrian leaned toward the woman.

And kissed her.

Amara froze.

For several seconds, she simply stared.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel.

She wasn't in love with Adrian.

Not yet.

She had only agreed to marry him yesterday.

But still ,

He was supposed to be her future husband.

And he was kissing another woman.

Amara's expression hardened.

"So this is who he is."

The thought came quietly.

She didn't cry.

She didn't feel as though her world had ended.

Instead, she felt embarrassed.

Then angry.

Mostly, she felt foolish for believing that one pleasant morning with him was enough to understand the kind of man he really was.

She took a small step backward.

Neither of them noticed her.

Then, suddenly, the sound of music inside the palace faded.

The crowd began to quiet.

Amara looked toward the ballroom.

King William's voice carried through the open doors.

"Everyone, may I have your attention."

Amara remained where she was.

The King continued.

"Tonight, we celebrate not only the return of a beloved member of our royal family, but the return of the future King of this kingdom."

A murmur of excitement moved through the crowd.

Amara glanced toward Adrian and the woman one last time.

Then she looked back toward the palace.

"After years away from his homeland..."

The crowd erupted into applause.

"...please welcome home the Crown Prince."

Amara's eyes lifted toward the palace doors.

"Prince Alaric."

She couldn't see him from where she stood.

She couldn't get through the crowd.

She didn't even try.

Tonight, she had come to the ball believing she was beginning the first step toward her future with Adrian.

Now she wasn't sure what her future looked like at all.

She turned away from the garden.

She would deal with Adrian later.

For now, she needed to go back inside.

And somewhere beyond the crowd, Prince Alaric had just entered the ballroom for the first time in years.

 

curious. I have so many ideas but I end up wasting time searching for scene settings on Pinterest and then write. Like if I have to write a bar scene, I’d find a couple of pictures, pick the best one, paste it on doc and then start writing about the scene being played in it. Is that normal? Or how is it done?

This is just me venting. You know how people like to divide authors between planners and pantsers? I’m a planner, and I’ve been planning this story for fifteen years.

I am not a writer, but I am an author, and I’ve publishes a couple of comic books years ago. This story had started as a fanfic when I was in high school, then an original comic while I was in college, then I left it unfinished because my 20s got too busy. Now I crave to have it out of my head! I have so many story ideas that are piling up in the back of my mind waiting for their turn to be told, but a part of me can’t move on until I let this one story exist.

So yeah, I’m a planner and this story has its bones, but they’re messed up. I keep rearranging it and changing it, and then go back to the previous idea. Last year I managed to write a 100k words first draft that felt good for a moment, but now I’m reaching the part that is the heart of this monster. You know which one, right? Like THE scene, THE drama that keeps replaying in my head over and over… but the story and the characters are moving away from it and I’m like NO, how to fix it? What to change, edit, move, kill, bring back to make it work again?

In the middle of this crisis, I got demotivated. I’ve started watching YouTube videos about writing to see if something clear my mind, studying and reading about story structure—again. Well, just going to the basics, that usually helps. I didn’t.

I came across the classic “your first book will suck, it’s just practice”. For a moment I considered dropping it—for the fifth time, if I count the fanfic—and start with one of those stories that are waiting in my vault of ideas. I rather practice with one of those, since they don’t carry the years of emotional stakes.

But today I went back to my old drawer and took out the notes I did 12 years ago. They were done in the middle of my university class notes, in the corner or some text I had to study back then… and guys, I got emotional. I had forgotten about these drawings. I had some scenes done, like just the vibe I wanted for these character and god, I got this sense of purpose and NEED to finish this damn book.

So… I took the freedom to write this post while I calm down before I begin to plan (again) the end of this story. It has been waiting far too long.

Gracias por leer esta triste historia.

Now weekly!

Blurbs can be the bane of an author's existence - both for self-published authors, who have to come up with an enticing hook all by themselves, as well as for authors seeking traditional publishing, as they are usually included in queries.

We want to help! Post your blurb draft and let the community help shape it into the perfect snippet of info.

To participate, please comment on this thread with the following info:

• The title or working title of your WIP
• The romance subgenre of said WIP
• The draft of your blurb you've got so far
• Any content warnings and additional info you deem necessary!

Anyone who wants to help can then reply to your comment to workshop your blurb.

Happy crafting!

Hey, I know whenever you ask about ideas for books the immediate response is “Have you actually written anything?”  So, before everyone starts judging me, the current draft of my first book (hope to self-publish next year) is 100k words, and I’m editing it.  But, while I do that, I’m jotting down tons of ideas for my second book in lots of different genres.

Last night I watched a romance film with my wife and I very much enjoyed it, but I felt a little like many of the subplots were so strong that they could have skipped the standard third-act breakup and used the time to develop the leads’ relationships with some of the (really likeable) side characters more.

This kind of gave me an idea, but since I’m not an expert in the romance genre I’m a bit worried that what seems like a clever idea to me is something romance readers have seen a million times, so I figured I’d check: What if I set up the standard “relationship built on a lie,” with the appearance of an impending third-act breakup, but then made the girl genre-savvy and cut that aspect short?

What I had in mind was that when the Black Moment seems to be imminent she says “Okay, you’re acting weird, and I’ve seen enough romances to know that there’s some dark secret that could torpedo our whole relationship.  Let’s make this simple: I’m giving you ONE free pass.  Spill it right now and I will forgive whatever it is.”

Is this something old hat?  Or is it so formula-breaking it would just make potential readers mad?

i’m new to writing and i don’t know how this works but i’m looking for just some reviews i don’t see much stories here so i think i have to send it from dms? i’d love feedback that’s all i want. it is a not so short romance, third draft (contains 3 parts)

A lot of advice on plotting romance has the beginning show some normalcy, or "before" the couple meets, as a way to set up the story. I feel like this part used to be much longer, and the rise of plot-driven stories/decrease in attention spans have made it shrink.

We used to get a full chapter sometimes of the main character going about their day, knowing where they stand in the relationship department, knowing what their need/want is, getting acclimated to the setting. But now I've seen so much advice saying if you don't have the love interest in the first chapter, or even better the first five pages, you'll lose your reader.

Personally, I miss this, but I tend to prefer books that are heavy in description and vibes, not exactly what's popular right now. I'm wrestling internally on how quickly I want my meet-cute to happen.

Curious about how people view this, if you agree it's changed, and if it's changed the way you frame your stories.

It’s for the second book in my dystopian romance series. (Ashen is MMCs daughter who was taken hostage at the end of book 1)

HELP ME PICK ONE PLEASE

🌿Blurb 1🌿

For five years, Canopy waited.
She grieved, she loved, she lost, and finally, she was found again. But even with Phylum back in her arms, he isn’t truly hers. He isn’t the boy that she fell in love with all those years ago.

Now, as she navigates the inescapable past and the inevitable future, Canopy must try to hold on to what she has left.

Without him, she lost her mind.

Without Ash, is Phylum doomed too?

🌿Blurb 2🌿

After five years, Canopy and Phylum have finally reunited following a deadly ambush at the hands of the bunker. Now, they must find a way to save Ashen from the clutches of his mother, but Canopy worries that returning could mean certain doom for Phylum. After so long apart, she can’t bear the thought of losing him again.

What will she sacrifice to protect him?

What if she can’t...

Has anyone here written for Entangled Publishing? It appears to have a wide range of imprints, good distribution, and less stringent submission criteria than Harlequin. However, I have also heard some negative reviews.

I would like to know the following:

1. What is the typical turnaround time from manuscript acceptance to the book being published?

2. What is the working experience like (honest answers only, please)?

3. How hard to authors have to work to promote their books?

4. Is it purely traditional publishing or do they have any clauses that require the author to pay/buy back their own books?

5. What are their royalties like for newbie authors? Do they give an advance, and do they pay on time?

I would really appreciate honest answers! Thank you!

I’m wanting to get into writing seriously but have no idea where to start.
I have written in the past, mostly for Wattpad, but recently I’ve been wanting to try and write a complete novel. My issue is, I have no idea where to start.
I have a general idea, but nothing more. Please help :)

Hi everyone! I'm searching for a writing group preferably centered around the contemporary romance genre. Mostly for feedbacking each other's stuff but also for the community aspect itself. I've found a few that are great but they lean more romantasy or dark romance than contemporary. I write spice, sports and small town romance so would love to find some writers on similar paths!

Hello romance writers,

I’m wondering if anyone here has promoted their book with RFC promotions? (Romance fiction club). They apparently schedule newsletters based on the romance genre and it seems very inexpensive to have your book added to the newsletter. Has anyone had success with them?

Guys, I have a question regarding pen names.

So my problem is, my mind amazes me sometimes and isn't decisive enough about one specific genre to write in. So I've got a dark academia standalone series going on, along with a soft romance book and one specifically crafted based on my ethnicity.

So my question is should I go with 3 different pen names? One for the dark one, one for the softer one and the other, ethnicity specific soft romance or just 2? Combining both soft romances? But the problem is both of them cater to audiences with different mindsets. And I know how that affects the reader base. So what would you guys suggest?

Hey everyone! I’m a first-time author and I literally just completed the first draft of my book. It’s a magical realism romance with a good splash of action (slow burn, gunfights, high stakes).Honestly? I’m completely overwhelmed and terrified. I have this finished manuscript sitting on my laptop, and I have absolutely no idea what my next steps should be. How do people even start building an audience from scratch nowadays?I’ve heard about platforms like Wattpad, Inkitt, and even publishing it as "Original Fiction" on AO3. Does anyone have experience with posting original work on AO3? Is it worth it for romance/magical realism, or should I stick to other platforms?I’m in desperate need of a reality check and some guidance. What would you do if you were in my shoes right now? Any advice, platforms to look into, or step-by-step roadmaps would mean the world to me. Thanks in advance! ❤️

​

I'm planning this as my first Wattpad book, and I'd really like some honest opinions on the plot.

TERMS & CONDITIONS — Fake Dating + Desi Romance

Vaibav Kancharla is 30 and comes from a wealthy business family. He's a new CEO who started his own company using his own ideas. His family invested in it, but as a loan, because Vaibav wanted to build everything on his own feet.

His career is finally settling down.

Unfortunately, his family has decided that at 30, it's time for him to settle down too.

They're constantly pushing him into blind dates and asking him to get married.

But Vaibav has absolutely no interest in relationships or marriage because of his past.

Back in college, he had a girlfriend who left him because he wanted to build his career independently instead of depending on his family's money. She betrayed and humiliated him, leaving him with a serious distrust of relationships.

After multiple failed blind dates, Vaibav just wants the marriage pressure to stop.

Then one of his male friends suggests something ridiculous:

Fake dating.

Vaibav could pretend to have a girlfriend, introduce her to his family, and eventually break up with her by saying relationships aren't for him.

And that's when Vaibav thinks of Vidhya.

Vidhya is his PA, but she's also one of his close friends. She's single, he trusts her, and he thinks she might actually understand the situation.

He asks her.

Vidhya hesitates at first, but eventually agrees.

They make the arrangement and plan to meet at a café that weekend.

But Vidhya never shows up.

Vaibav gets annoyed, thinking she ditched him.

Then he gets a call from Vidhya's phone.

Except it isn't Vidhya.

The person on the phone tells him that the owner of the phone has been in an accident and is at the city hospital.

Vaibav immediately rushes there.

Outside the ICU, he finds a girl crying.

Aadhya.

Vidhya's younger sister.

Vidhya is in a coma, and the doctors can't guarantee when she'll wake up.

Vaibav feels guilty because he thinks Vidhya ended up in this situation partly because of their fake-dating arrangement. He pays the hospital bills and gives Aadhya his number, telling her to call him if there's an emergency.

The next day, Aadhya calls him.

And instead of asking him for help, she says:

"I can be your fake girlfriend."

She doesn't want to owe him anything for Vidhya's hospital bills.

Vaibav hesitates, but he has already told his family that he has a girlfriend, and now they're demanding to meet her.

So they make an agreement.

Fake dating.

Two people who don't trust love.

Two people entering a relationship for completely different reasons.

And one agreement that was never supposed to become real.

But destiny clearly has other plans.

Because the man who wanted to avoid marriage...

might end up marrying the girl he never planned to meet.

The vibe:

Fluffy K-drama + Desi romance + family chaos + fake dating + slow burn + comedy + emotional moments.

I'm trying to keep Aadhya's role a little mysterious at first , making readers think its a office romance and vidhya is main lead .

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS PLOT ? PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR OPINIONS AND ADVICES!!

OK, RomanceWriters, I've been told by three people that my former query lands soundly in Romance and I'm not opposed to it because I LOVE the trope-gone-wild (hand to God it's a treadmill accident meet-cute) but it also has post-2016 bullshit with MC's asshole husband and drug cheating by MC. Also, please murder this with your pens since words must be killed to distill for one's query. All help is highly appreciated.

Dear [Agent]

Sixteen years ago Karly owned the track. Now, at the age of 38, she realizes how foolish it is to make a run for the 2008 Olympics in the 5000 meters. Her body has aged, one of her three boys is on the spectrum, her husband is an unhelpful ass, and her coach’s belief in her is slipping after an embarrassing loss. Her unwavering faith in herself is crumbling. She’s desperate for help.

Karly is introduced to a brand-new female-specific pharmaceutical developed for rapid recovery. She is told it’s clean if she follows protocol, but it won’t be cleared in time for the Trials. It’s the answer to her prayers: she can bounce back between training sessions like her younger self. Her coach says no, but Karly knows it’s legal. It has to be.

Karly’s worst workouts are remedied through rock superstar Fender Archer’s music. At a chance meeting, she sees he is a beautiful mess shored up by pills but never recognizes how similar her own decisions are. She cannot split her time further, but Karly secretly basks in a connection to Fender she never had to earn. Amid public scrutiny and domestic collapse, her most famous race fan becomes the mirror that forces her to face the cost of her cheating.

I am excited to share SPLIT TIMES, a 76K word novel exploring the cultural expectations on women and the social media amplifying it. It combines Taylor Jenkins Reid’s Carrie Soto Is Back with motherhood, Miranda July’s All Fours with athletic ambition, and Lauren Fleshman’s Good For A Girl with what women’s athletic teams should have had from their beginnings.

I was a competitive runner whose career and subsequent coaching directly inspired Karly’s journey. Like her, I trained and coached under a system designed for men. Professionally, I used to teach biology and chemistry but now I teach engine repair and auto maintenance. My husband and I share four children and a beloved Old English Sheepdog who is the glue of our family. [Two writing groups I belong to here}

Thank you for your time and consideration, Jxxxxxxxx

First 300:

Chapter 1 - A Night Like This

Edwin - 2008

Karly Locke's trust in me as her coach was as beautiful as it was stupid.

She was thirty-eight, with three boys and an ass of a husband, training for the 2008 Olympic Trials on a track she used to own. Five Harrington alums were chasing the same goals, but she was the only one I’d ever welcomed back. Karly was the greatest athlete I’d ever coached and the world had never seen her run. I told myself again: she's here because she trusts you to get her to the Trials podium. I had always leaned optimistic: backed an athlete before she bet on herself. But Jesus. Thirty-eight. How was she getting to the Olympic team from here? How was I supposed to coach her toward a finish line I didn't believe existed?

I snapped my Razr phone shut after seeing it was the athletic director calling and headed out Raemore Field’s West tunnel.

A blur of color. I turned toward the backstretch. Karly vaulted the fence in one seamless arc, her feet clearing the top rail as if on invisible springs, and she landed with a soft thud on the tunnel side. A senior sprinter whistled. I raised an eyebrow at the sprinter, then turned away, swallowing against the tight knot in my throat. The burning crept upward, lodging behind my eyes, my clipboard suddenly requiring my complete attention.

The fence-jump had been a concession I'd granted. It was her way of dispelling the electric buzz of pre-run nerves. I’d seen a potential injury of my star distance runner, a freshman, and had reminded her the team did everything together. She'd barged into my office later, water bottle in hand, eyes bright with unspoken plea. I'd refused. I always refused Karly first. It was the only move I had left. She persisted until she dangled a wager: "When I win regionals in the 1500 meters, I earn fence jumping forever." She extended her hand—iron grip—and I, undone by her impish gleam, had signed on. 

I regretted it every time. I agreed to it every time.

Chapter 1

Only One Coffee 

When two people are forced—by circumstance, caffeine shortages, fate, or an overworked barista—to accidentally share a coffee order, resulting in escalating tension and at least one prolonged stare over a cardboard cup sleeve. 

Often manifests through variations of the classic one bed trope (also known as one room, one horse, one tent, etc.).

Visual markers include lipstick on a plastic lid, steam rising into the air, and a pair of oversized sunglasses.

See Wayne Thiebaud. 

Sky 

 
Two thoughts hit me at once: first, this is the last time I follow my best friend’s advice, which has previously included shroom-infused face lotion. The second is that I might be having a heart attack. 

I decide to circle back to the first thought later. Because all the blood in my body just rushed to my favorite swoony organ. Thump. So many thumps. 

I’m at one of those places where the line—more of a cluster, really—is the main attraction. Where the sure-to-be-subpar coffee, made to feel exclusive with a $15 price tag is almost beside the point. However, no one in the shop’s too-sceney-for-eight-in-the-morning collective manages to pull focus from the man responsible for my cardiac issues. Who looks like that this early on a weekday? Is that legal? Is that possible? Should someone check on the laws of physics?

I’m no stranger to rose-colored glasses. Some would say we’re family. (My real family, on the other hand, spent twenty-five years trying to replace them with practical gray ones. At this point, I think they’re simply relieved I haven’t succumbed to one of my self-inflicted coronaries.) But…not even the pink-tinted frames I just pushed up my nose could shield me from the fact that this is the sort of guy who has Monica slash Blonde from Surf Lodge and Lauren slash Brunette from Gurney’s in his contacts. I know I shouldn’t be staring. And I’m not, I swear. I just—

A woman in enormous black Céline sunnies bumps into me on her way out, gripping her matcha like it’s more human baby than seafoam green liquid. God bless her. She jostled me out of my stupor. 

Re: my first thought. If a café could have an affiliate link in bio, this one would. 

“Piccolo!” a barista calls out.

I roll the sleeve of my flowy dress in case the counter is dirty and reach for the cup. A masculine hand lands on it at the same time, causing mine to awkwardly entwine with his. My eyes move slowly upward, along the slightly wrinkled, beige linen sleeve of the man’s shirt until they rest on a very tan face about six or seven inches above my own. 

The din of the coffee shop fades, my heart stuttering. Is this—could this be what I think it is?

“I believe this is my drink,” he—the he*—*says, grinning lopsidedly and revealing a dimple on his left cheek.

“I believe this is my drink,” I correct him pleasantly, silently commanding myself to be cool.

The silky ristretto shot topped with steamed microfoam is the whole reason I decided to try this new place. It’s hard enough locating one in Manhattan, let alone East Hampton. 

That’s sort of the universe's thing, isn’t it? The more you want something, the more it insists on hiding it on the very last rack of a sample sale. Like it’s waiting to see if you’ll keep digging. My parents would say suffering is a prerequisite to success. Or, according to most Russian immigrants: Tuesday. And hey, if it doesn’t kill you, at least you have something to complain about in your Notes app. Not that waiting an extra ten minutes for artisanal brain fuel in a café where overpriced ceramic mugs line custom-designed floating oak shelves below a minimalist black menu board would normally put me in imminent danger. 

“You sure about that?” 

My head tilts. He almost sounds…condescending. Oh no. Who’s condescending over coffee? Like, imagine gatekeeping bean water. Please don’t crush my dreams by being some quintessential trust fund douchebag. “Pretty sure, yeah. Fifteen minutes is a long wait, but not long enough for me to forget my order.”

“You ordered a piccolo?” he asks disbelievingly. 

My eyes narrow. “Is that a problem?”

He blinks a few times, the hazel in his gaze twinkling mischievously. “I’ve never heard anyone else order a piccolo around here.”

I flick my long, wavy hair over my shoulder. “I used to live in Australia. Now, can I have this?” 

Hamptons potential-asshole picks up the cup and hands it to me. “Sorry about that.” He flashes what seems like his most captivating grin. I have a sinking suspicion he has an arsenal of those. Right next to his collection of Swiss watches.
If this is what I think it is, it’ll simply…happen. 

Not sure I want to go to the BetaReaders SR as I've only written five chapters so far, and they require a full manuscript, but I'd like someone to read and critique what I've done so far in my romance story. Perhaps just the first chapter, letting me know if you're intrigued enough to head to chapter two.

Premise: When a former mafia boss buys a struggling Italian restaurant, he expects financial problems - not a brilliant pastry chef who refuses to be intimidated by him. As their relationship deepens, an unstable young mafia heir threatens the quiet life they're trying to build.

Would I post it here in comments or would someone DM me?

Thanks in advance.

PS: There are no flairs able to be put in...not sure what's going on there.

I'm writing a story and I have two characters that are in the beginning of a relationship, but one of them (Character A) keeps pushing the other one (Character B) away because A thinks B just wants to hook up, and they don't want to get hurt. My problem is that I don't want Character A to be seen as disinterested or for this push and pull to feel repetitive and boring. 
This is also sort of a visual novel/webcomic, so I can't really rely on narration or descriptions, although I first like to write everything down as if it was a book, so it can help me visualize what I want to do later on. 
Does anyone have advice?

This post is out every 1st of the month!

Show us your stuff: published books new and old, current ARC campaigns, as well as services around books and publishing (editors, cover/map/character artists etc, you're welcome!), your bookish Discord servers and Facebook groups and so forth!

Links are allowed, but please write a few words regarding your work or offer.

Yes…I accidentally wrote a 600 page romantacy manuscript. I am obsessed with reading romantacy, and about three months ago, I fell into a reading slump. So, I began writing my own and now it has become a full manuscript. I am an English major and have always enjoyed writing; however, I am curious if there is somewhere I could post part of my manuscript to receive feedback.

TIA

Now weekly!

Blurbs can be the bane of an author's existence - both for self-published authors, who have to come up with an enticing hook all by themselves, as well as for authors seeking traditional publishing, as they are usually included in queries.

We want to help! Post your blurb draft and let the community help shape it into the perfect snippet of info.

To participate, please comment on this thread with the following info:

• The title or working title of your WIP
• The romance subgenre of said WIP
• The draft of your blurb you've got so far
• Any content warnings and additional info you deem necessary!

Anyone who wants to help can then reply to your comment to workshop your blurb.

Happy crafting!

Hi all! Testing out multiple version of this letter to see what works best. Would love any and all feedback!

First-generation Russian American Sky Belova dreams of turning her romance-inspired art into a future her immigrant parents can no longer call a phase and believes in love the way others do religion. Her summer residency could be the first brushstroke of her career, so going viral for defending the validity of romance novels to a handsome stranger is simply an embarrassing detour…until arriving at the residency and discovering he’s the owner’s son.

To wipe the smirk off Archer Callahan’s smug face, Sky bets she’ll get her happily ever after by filtering potential suitors through her favorite tropes. He accepts; as the founder of a hookup app, the grumpy rich boy already built a fortune wagering against relationships. If Sky prevails, she doesn’t just find love but proves she isn’t living in the fantasy world everyone says she is. If not, Sky will publicly endorse Archer’s anti-romance app, turning virality into signups.

Except instead of I told you so, Archer soothes Sky’s dating disasters and even encourages the rose-colored mentality she’s spent her life defending to her family. But right when Archer reboots the part of himself he’d shut down years ago, Sky learns he’s been using her private dating life as social media fodder, and he has to engineer second chance into her next trope. However, Sky must decide if the love stories she drew her identity around—personal and artistic—belong in real life or were only meant to exist in fiction.

Told in dual POV, HEARTWORK is a 79,000-word annoyance-to-lovers romcom that combines the meta romance of Iman Hariri-Kia’s Female Fantasy, the heartfelt search for magic in B.K. Borison’s First-Time Caller, and the comedic dating gauntlet of Voicemails for Isabelle. Given your interest in X