Spring break is winding down in the Lynn household and I have big plans for the Twinx today as it's the second to last day of a 2 week Spring Break. That is, if I can get them to all wake up before noon.

How has Spring Break been for you? Do anything fun?

 

Ro asked me earlier if I had any ideas and I've been thinking that it would be fun to go hang out at a local arcade, but I'm curious…what are some fun things to do with teenagers? I'm always open to new ideas…

We're a little under 2 weeks away from the release of Hating Mr. Write. So how about I turn this newsletter into a first chapter Friday and give you a sneak peek of Hayley and Jagger?

In short, I wanted to like JA Hart’s latest release. I tried. So many of my friends told me how much they loved the first two books he released last year. Not to mention his other series that I added to my TBR, knowing I’d read them only if I enjoyed this one. But the heroine in The Reality of Love was anything but real. From her whiny conversations to the way the hero always had to rescue her, she came across as little more than a victim of her situation—and I can’t forget the superfluous number of sex scenes that left me questioning JA’s experiences with real-life women. Obviously he has no idea how to please a woman—be they reader or lover. ⭐️⭐️. I cannot in good conscience recommend this book. Hopefully, I’ll have better news about this next read. Until next time! XOXO, Rocky Mountain Romance Reader

 

“What crawled up her a-- and died?”

 

This is what I get for reading my reviews. If I could, I’d crumple up the review and toss the wadded-up paper in the trash. The physical release would do me some good. Clicking on the little X in the top left corner of the internet browser window doesn’t give me the same satisfaction, but it’ll have to do.

 

With a huff, I kick out of my desk chair and pace the small bedroom I use as my office. Maybe the movement will calm the wheels in my head and keep them from spinning off track into a spiral of imposter syndrome.

 

“You never should have looked at the reviews.” My voice echoes against the walls.

 

I know better. It was one of the first pieces of advice I was given when I started indie publishing. But I have a thick skin—owning the town’s only bar means I deal with a lot of drunk a--holes—so reading my reviews has never been a problem before. The majority are good with occasional one- or two-star reviews from readers who like to go on about why it’s wrong for a man to write romance.

 

But this blogger has made it her life’s mission to single-handedly destroy my day. She’s got twenty-five thousand followers and she’s left glowing reviews for every other book she’s read this year. But mine? She can’t in good conscience recommend it? Her words ricochet through me, making it impossible to get my head on straight and write this next book.

 

 

I don’t even have to look at my computer screen for my work-in-progress’s word count.

 

Zero isn’t a hard number to remember.

 

Blowing out a breath, I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling.

 

“Think, jacka--. This should be a cakewalk at this point.” I haven’t typed a single word, and still, this book has been more of a challenge than writing the previous six combined.

 

I snap up straight when my phone vibrates against my desk and cross the small room to pick it up.

 

 

F--k, I was so focused on this book and the review bomb that I’d forgotten. Jade’s friend is coming from Colorado Springs and renting the Airbnb next door. During the last ski season, it became a revolving door of single women in for a weekend of winter fun. If that fun included a night of no-strings sex? I wasn’t complaining.

 

Something told me I wouldn’t have the same relationship with this temporary neighbor.

 

 

D---it. Stepping closer to the window, I check the driveway, snap a picture, and text it to Shep.

 

 

Not quite. Despite closing at the bar last night, I’ve been up for hours. The five hours of sleep I managed plus the three cups of coffee I’ve pounded mean I’m more than awake. I’m so alert I’m practically hovering off the ground. But staring at the blinking cursor of death for an hour before falling down the review hole has taken its toll. Rocky Mountain Romance Reader wasn’t the only one who had some…let’s say strong opinions about The Reality of Love. She was just the most vocal.

 

 

He had to play that card. F--k. He’s been my best friend for almost fifteen years. And despite what he thinks, my disinterest in settling down doesn’t make me a man-whore. I’m happy he finally pulled his head out of his a-- when it comes to Jade, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to dive into a life of committed monogamy alongside him. He’d still be mooning over her from afar if it hadn’t been for me. But it doesn’t mean I can’t f--k with him.

 

 

Huh. Nope. I have no recollection of that tidbit of information.

 

 

When no response comes, I key in another message.

 

 

I’m grinning for the first time all morning. I love yanking his chain.

 

 

I have no desire to get involved with a woman who will be staying next door for three entire weeks. Even innocent flirting can become fodder for a stage-five clinger, and I have no interest in dealing with that headache.

 

I have game. But drama is not the name of that game.

 

My phone vibrates twice in quick succession.

 

The first text is from Shep.

 

 

Rolling my eyes, I click on the second new message. It’s from Becky, the woman who handles the lunch shift at Expedition Brewing.

 

 

With a sigh, I shake my head and close my useless laptop.

 

 

Before she can respond, I’m heading to the shower. I have a feeling I know where that question is leading.

 

 

I crank the knob and let the water heat while I respond.

 

 

Becky covers the lunch crowd, which gives me a break so I’m not working eighty hours a week like I did when I first bought the bar.

 

Though it looks like I’ll be there a little more than normal for the next few days.

 

 

Phil may be an excellent cook, but his specialty is not customer service.

 

 

The book is going to have to wait.

 

Writer’s Block—1, Jagger—0.

 

Writer’s block has more on me than that, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

 

Time to go do something I can actually succeed at today.

 

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