“It’s acceptable,” she admitted. “Now, let’s talk about what her eyes are doing. You have her eyes roaming over his body. Did they just jump out of her skull and decide to take a trip? She may want to hold on to those things.”
“Time’s up. Please hit save, close your laptops, and retire to the loft to await our judgments.”
Felicity hit save and turned tiredly to Ms. Friar as she lowered her laptop lid. “Thank you, Ms. Friar.” As they rose, they shook hands.
“Been a bit nervous, have we?” Ms. Friar frowned at Felicity’s sweaty palm and made a production of wiping her own hand on her handy cloth as soon as they parted.
“I was, but I must say I learned a ton.”
The editor pursed her lips and nodded, and Felicity paused, waiting just a beat, but when nothing else was forthcoming, she joined the throng heading up to the loft.
A strong hand on the back of her neck set her pulse to racing all over again.
“You gave me the fact-checker,” Victor growled in her ear, his breath caressing her earlobe.
“You would have done the same in my position.” She took in his handsome profile with a sideways glance.
“Oh, honey, you haven’t quite been in any position I’d like to see you in.”
Two weeks before, that comment would have bothered her, but now the sexual innuendo caused her body temperature to notch at least twenty degrees higher … and all the heat was in one spot. It didn’t help any that he left his hand on the back of her neck until they reached the top. If this was all about messing up her concentration and focus, she feared he would succeed before this competition was over.
“You gave me a children’s writer? A children’s writer? What the fuck?” Tiffani wasted no time and began yelling as soon as Felicity walked through the doorway.
“I’d think with your level of writing, that would have been a perfect fit,” Victor interjected smoothly, reluctantly removing his hand from the back of Felicity’s neck. He’d longed to move it, just not away. He wanted to move his hands to other parts of her.
Dez’s laughter sounded over Tiffani’s carrying on. Then, he said, “See Jane run. Jane runs to Dick. Dick is very big. Jane —” He broke into more raucous laughter, scrunched up in his chair, and hugged himself as tears ran down his face.
Victor chuckled, but made sure he stayed between Felicity and Tiffani as they walked across the room. He kept a wary eye on the angry writer. If she went after Felicity … he’d … he’d what? Do what he knew? What he’d seen growing up? Slap her around a bit?
No, but he couldn’t let anyone, male or female, hurt Felicity. He’d stand between them and be her shield if she needed one.
But aren’t you going to hurt her anyway when you beat her in this thing?
He shoved his thoughts aside and focused on the conversation around them. He didn’t want or need another headache at this stage in the game … for that’s what it was: a game.
“I’m offended by that, Dez. Why do you just assume Jane would run to big dick? I mean, really, that’s so fucking sexist and assuming.” Carmen threw a cushion at the mystery writer, but he still didn’t stop laughing.
Roy, as usual, sat there quietly. Nothing had gotten that man’s ire up but that one lone comment about two branches of the military. He’s going to be a hard one to intimidate, Victor mused.
“But do you realize you gave me the world’s sluttiest editor?” Carmen turned her focus on Felicity. “She’s a walking, talking example of what us women should not be.”
“What difference does it make how she is personality wise?” Felicity asked.
“Yea. Did she do a good job? Did she seem to know what she was talking about?” Victor asked.
“No. She said my heroine was implausible, too strong, that for the era she lived in, there was no way she’d be running all over the streets of Mexico without an … oh, fuck me, duena.” Carmen sneered, settling down into her armchair to sulk, her arms crossed.
“What year does your story take place?” Roy asked, surprising them all.
“1790.”
“She’s right, actually,” Roy said, looking serious. “The women’s rights movement wasn’t exactly moving yet.”
Dez laughed again. “All you women are still trying to move. Just face it, you’ll always be inferior. Ain’t a woman going to win this thing.”
Felicity gasped and stiffened. Carmen looked fit to burst, and Tiffani just sulked and glared.
Victor quickly turned his own laugh into a cough, hiding his smile behind his fist. Dez was showing some surprising personality traits as the show went on, and something told him the man was just trying to get the women riled up and emotional so they would make mistakes. And what kind of author had such bad grammar?
“I’ll show you,” Felicity said. “I’ll show you inferior. You’re going to feel it though, not see it.”
Victor shared a quick glance with Dez. Seemed his ploy would have an opposite effect. He didn’t know about Carmen and had no confidence at all in Tiffani, but his Felicity was bound to be more determined than ever to win.
His Felicity?
“Are you ready for judging?” Mr. Brown stood glowering at them from the doorway.
“Welcome back to your second elimination round. Your assignment was to work with an editor on your manuscript for four hours. Editing is one of the most important steps to publishing a bestselling book. If you can’t work with an editor on improving your work, you will not be the next bestseller.” Ophelia glowered at them, her brow creasing into a line.
“Ophelia’s right. I have had to work with many editors and they have given me very insightful advice. It requires a lot of working one-on-one and conversation. If you’re lucky, you grow very close to your editor and it turns into a great friendship as well. It’s important to understand that an unbiased eye on your work is key. As the story is already in your head, you may not always put it on the page adequately.” Nicole tapped a pen on the desk, and after a nod from Ophelia and Mr. Brown, she proceeded. “Victor.”
Victor gave his trademark nod and stepped forward. Nervousness rolled off the other contestants in waves, but he felt pretty confident. He was here to win.
“Brent said he was a stickler for facts, and considering the genre you have chosen to write, your ability to double check facts is a must if you wish to be successful. He was impressed with your fact-checking skills. Apparently, you were even able to show him a few sites he hadn’t heard of. Good job. You’re definitely at the top of your game.”
Nicole paused to smile at him. Was she flirting with him? What would Felicity think? A quick glance in her direction found her scowling. Smugness washed over him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“However,” she added, looking sheepish, “he says you have a problem with word overuse and at times you didn’t want to replace them. You want to tell me why?”
Inwardly, he groaned. “There was a section he said had the word blood too much, but what other word was I supposed to use? Red liquid?” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture.
Nicole’s lip twitched. “No, but sometimes you can reword or rephrase a sentence to avoid the repeated words. Refusal altogether is not acceptable. Keep an open mind and listen.”
Damn.
“Dez,” Allen Brown called.
“Yes.” The black man stepped forward, standing tall.
“We’ve had this talk before. What’s with the passive sentences? Your editor says he advised you repeatedly to switch from passive voice to active voice. You need to learn this. Is there a reason you had difficulty complying?”
“Perhaps he wasn’t clear with how he was explaining it?” Dez shrugged.
“When almost every other sentence begins with an ING word, you are overusing the passive voice. I suggest you do some research on the matter. Other than that, James said you were pretty compliant and open to suggestions. Also, great story.”
“Carmen.” Ophelia was taking this one.<
br />
The cocky woman stepped forward, arms crossed.
“You and your editor had problems. She said you refused to budge on your heroine being unrealistic for the time period you chose. Want to explain this?” The talk show host placed her hands on the stack of papers in front of her and waited patiently.
“I’m not making a heroine weak and submissive and catering to the male species on the whim of a slutty editor who lives her life that way. My book has a very strong woman. Strong women have lived throughout the ages. There’s just a conspiracy to delete them from history.” Carmen’s voice rose, and her arms began moving animatedly. “I am changing that. Do you know about the woman pope? She —”
“Carmen,” Ophelia raised a hand to halt the speech, “Carmen, from what I’ve read, you aren’t penning a historical fiction but a historical fantasy, and that’s fine if you are writing that genre, but you do need to be more realistic and true to the times and telling your editor she’s an embarrassment to her sex is not going to make you the next bestseller.” She sighed heavily. “However, good job on grammar and punctuation and all that jazz.”
Victor whistled under his breath. Wow. Carmen was something else … and he didn’t mean that in a good way.
“Hmph.” Carmen frowned, but said no more.
“Felicity,” Ms. Roberts said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You chose the hardest editor for yourself. You mind telling us why?”
Yes, do. I was wondering that myself.
“I’m not here just to win a bunch of money.” Felicity’s voice was clear and sounded genuine. “I also want to learn. When I heard how much experience she had, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to learn from her and hone my craft.”
“That decision could get you sent home.”
An oooh came from Carmen’s direction, followed by a snicker from Tiffani. Felicity’s face fell, and her mouth turned down.
Suddenly, Nicole’s somber expression lit into a smile. “Could have got you sent home. Ms. Friar had nothing but good things to say about you. She says in the span of four hours, she managed to convey to you rules about punctuation, grammar, disembodied parts, purple prose, adverb over-usage, and plot holes. Not only did you listen and not argue, but you asked questions, then you fixed it right in front of her. She also says you have a decent understanding of point-of-view, something many first time authors can’t quite grasp. Excellent job.”
That’s my girl. Victor grinned in her direction. Of course, she had head-hopping down. He’d told her. And he didn’t regret it.
Though she was shaking like a leaf by the time she rejoined him in line, she was visibly relieved as well. Thank you, she mouthed.
He winked back and tried to calm the sudden rise of his … libido.
“Roy,” Mr. Brown announced.
“Sir.”
The literary agent looked as though he’d tasted something sour. “For a man so used to taking orders, you didn’t get on well with Steve. Why is that?”
“I didn’t really want to change some things in my manuscript. He didn’t like my beginning. He advised me to start with action or dialogue, rather than an explanation or glossary of terms, but I wanted readers to understand some things going into the book,” the military writer said, rubbing his sun-burned head self-consciously.
“He actually suggested that for a good reason. When someone uses the Look Inside feature to read a sample of your book, do you want them to be bored and possibly not buy it?” Allen’s tone sounded bored right then.
“No. I guess not,” Roy admitted.
“It was solid advice. Such a simple thing you two couldn’t get around.” Mr. Brown shook his head.
“Tiffani,” Ophelia declared. The hard edge to her tone warned Victor something interesting was about to go down. He straightened up and paid closer attention, feeling reassured by the closeness of Felicity. If the erotic writer went bat-shit crazy, he was close enough to step in front of Felicity.
“Yes.” She spoke so quietly Victor barely heard it.
“Did you really tell Tabitha she needed to go buzz her fuzz?”
On his other side, Victor saw Carmen’s eyes widen. Dez sounded as though he were choking. Felicity’s jaw dropped. Victor lowered his gaze to hide his smile.
Tiffani’s tone was petulant. “She told me forced seduction was rape. I told her she needed to get familiar with the erotic industry. It’s totally acceptable. She said my writing was distasteful and there wasn’t a solid story.”
“Maybe that’s because there isn’t. You apparently have twenty-three solid pages of sex in a forty-page manuscript. The difference between porn and erotica is that erotica has a solid story complete with a backstory. I really have nothing else to say to you. This could very well send you home.” Ophelia looked tired as she said this.
Tiffani glared at Felicity.
“One of you will be closing your manuscript and going home. Please head on up to the loft. We’ll call you when we’ve made our decision.”
“Bitch. You better watch your back if I get kicked off.” Tiffani was red-faced and angry, only a foot away, but Felicity wasn’t playing nice girl anymore. She shrugged off Victor’s hand on her shoulder and faced the erotic writer head-on.
“Hey, I’m not the one who told my editor to go use a vibrator. You hung yourself.”
“You gave her to me while trying to get in the judges’ good graces by assigning yourself the toughest. Oooh, look at me, judges. I’m so smart.” Tiffani made her voice high-pitched, irritatingly so. “I’m here to hone my craft. I’m a little goody two-shoes.” Hands on hips, she glowered. “You must love the smell of shit ‘cause you’ve had your nose up their asses from day one.”
“You can’t even make up your own stories. You stole mine! I’m not wasting my breath arguing with you. People like you are leeches. You just thrive off others’ energy, ideas, and creativity.” Felicity raised her hand and spun away, running straight into Victor’s solid chest. It was warm and rock-hard, and it took everything she had not to melt against it. Under her palms, she felt his heart thumping.
“I think everyone needs to calm the fuck down,” he said, grasping her upper arms.
“We need to see Victor, Carmen, Tiffani, and Felicity,” Allen Brown’s voice came from behind them.
“What’d I say about women being inferior?” Dez hooted. “Look. All three of ‘em called down there. Can’t get along either.”
Felicity reluctantly moved her hand from Victor’s chest, mumbled an apology, and turned toward the stairs.
“Your task was to work closely with an editor for four hours. Notes were taken on your listening skills, willingness to learn, writing talent, and ability to grasp the rules of literature.” Ophelia leaned back in her chair and surveyed them, one brow arched. “Two of you impressed us. Two of you did not. One of you just may be the next bestseller. One of you will be closing your manuscript and going home.”
Thoughts ran through Victor’s mind at a blurring speed. Who would be gone? Carmen or Tiffani? Those were definitely the worst two. That left him and Felicity competing against each other here in front of the desk again. What would the group think of them being the top two again? How would he feel about losing to her … if he did?
He shifted from one foot to the other as the room grew warm, as he grew warm. He felt as if he was losing his cool, and he didn’t like it.
“Victor, you did a good job, even showed the editor a few new things. It seems everyone had an issue they didn’t feel like budging on, and yours was pretty minor compared to others. Regardless, how you handled it is the reason you are in the top two. Already, this is your second time up here. Keep it up.”
Victor couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. Even if he didn’t win this challenge, he was doing well, kicking ass, and taking names. His mama would be proud. Not for the first time since his arrival, he felt a twinge of worry as he stepped back into line.
Nicole shifted i
n her seat, drawing the attention her way. “Felicity,” she smiled, “you made a pretty good case for yourself. We’re very impressed with your willingness to learn while you are here. Your editor was as well.”
“Thank you, Ms. Roberts.” Felicity’s dark curls moved as she bobbed her head.
“Tiffani,” Ophelia stated with a shake of her head. “What’s up, girl? You did pretty bad. Everyone has disagreements with their editors over something, but outright disrespect was not called for and that attitude won’t get you far in the publishing business. There is no room for a diva. Remember that.”
“Well, she’s the one refusing to change her story to match the times.” Tiffani pointed at Carmen, her voice wavering. “I deserve to win this. I’m a good writer. I give my readers what they want. They aren’t even published.” Her chin began to quiver, and tears welled in her eyes.
“Hold up, hold up.” Carmen raised a hand, palm up in Tiffani’s direction. “You did not, did not just throw me under the bus.”
Victor nudged Felicity and leaned over to murmur in her ear. “Look. She does that head thing. She looks like an angry bird.”
Her dark eyes went wide and she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.
“I don’t care who is throwing who under the bus,” Mr. Brown quickly interjected. “The judges’ decision has been made. Ms. Carmen, you do need to work with your editor better, and if we could send two of you home, we would, but as it stands …”
Ophelia took a deep breath and finished for him. “Tiffani, you do not have what it takes to be the next bestseller. Please close your manuscript and go home.”
The woman’s angry screech almost made Victor’s eardrums burst.
Chapter Nine
“You won the last challenge even though you gave yourself the toughest editor. Was that a ploy to win?”
Felicity crossed her ankles where they rested against the bottom rung of the stool. “I took a chance. I don’t plan on going home, but if I do, I want to leave here having learned a thing or two.”
Plotting to Win Page 9