Steamy Sessions: A Rosy Forbidden Collection
Because if that didn’t work, I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do.
Every single plan I had for my future hinged on this—on getting my degree, on finishing my capstone, and on proving to the publishing board that I had range. That I could write more than tearjerker love stories about messy women and reformed bad boys. This erotica submission had to be hot, authentic, believable.
Problem? I’d never written erotica before. Or, you know, done much that qualified.
It wasn’t like I needed the job to pay the rent. I’d taken on accounting originally for the security, the structure. It wasn’t glamorous, and I’d never be filthy rich, but it would never vanish on me. Death and taxes, right? Ol