Writing Mr. Right

Praise for Abigail Drake This is actually the first book I’ve read of Abigail’s and I’m hooked! I NEEEED MORE! SO MANY BOOKS, SO LITTLE TIME BOOK BLOG First Abigail Drake grabs you with her fresh writing, then she keeps you in the throes of her story with an incredible voice and a gifted talent for spinning tales that will amaze and delight. I am stunned. NY TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR DARYNDA JONES This is one of those hidden gems that you long to come across. It has a little bit of everything in it; romance, paranormal, mystery and lots of action. There are so many twists and turns. A book that packs a punch you'll never see coming. Absolute perfection! DARK RAVEN REVIEWS Writing Mr. Right ABIGAIL DRAKE Copyright © 2023 by Abigail Drake All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. In loving memory of Ramona DeFelice Long; beloved editor, mentor, and friend. And for Casey Clipper. You know why. Never lose your RBF or your sense of humor. You are golden. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Epilogue Afterword About the Author Also by Abigail Drake Chapter One #NOHEAFORLIBBYDAY Liberty Day found herself regretting many of her life decisions as she sat across the table from her soon-to-be-ex-agent. Maureen Smythe had represented her books for the last fifteen years, but their long and mutually beneficial relationship appeared to be coming to an abrupt and unexpected end. Maureen was breaking up with her over a spinach and kale salad (no onions, dressing on the side). Libby decided to play the oblivious card, but she had two equally unappealing choices. She could either remain calm and classy as she sipped the glass of chardonnay she’d ordered to accompany her meal, or she could throw the drink in Maureen’s face. She chose option number one, which made her feel rather proud. Downing the last of her wine, she motioned to the waiter for a refill and patted her blonde hair into place as she tried to make her trademark resting bitch face look not quite as bitchy. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Maureen?” Maureen sighed. “The market is changing, and what you write, No Rules, No Limits, No Regrets, isn’t selling anymore. We live in the age of consent and #MeToo. Some of your stuff is borderline rape-y.” Libby winced. “I know. You’re right. I should try something different, like paranormal romance. I know the market for vampires is dead, no pun intended, but what about shifters? I have this awesome were-tiger demon king series idea I’ve been working on, and I think it might have potential.” Maureen held up a hand. “No shifters. No werewolves. No fairies, elves, or demon lovers. I have seen a rise in demigods lately—” Libby perked up. “I can write a mean demigod.” “But it’s just not worth it for me, Libs.” “What do you mean?” Maureen tilted her head to one side, her short, red hair gleaming as a rare burst of February sunshine poured through the window, illuminating the gray and gloomy Pittsburgh sky. “Don’t you see it? We keep doing the same tired stuff, over and over again." “No, we don’t.” “Yes, we do. I’ll give you an example. How many times has one of your heroines faced an unplanned pregnancy?” Libby gazed skyward as she counted in her head. “Nine.” “Why?” “Well, we’ve had malfunctioning condoms, lack of condoms, forgetting to put on the condom, forgetting to take the pill, taking the pill while on antibiotics, and then there was the one vasectomy that didn’t work.” “The Regenerated Romeo,” Maureen said with a fond smile. “I liked that one. But what I meant is, why do you keep writing trope? In this day and age, the old, failed vasectomy story doesn’t fly anymore. I’ve exhausted every possible avenue I could to sell your books, Libs. It’s time to move on.” Libby took another sip of wine, trying to control the hot swell of anger rising in her chest. “Thirty books,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We hit the New York Times Bestseller list together ten times. I’ve stuck with you, Maureen, even when other agents came knocking at my door. I know I can be a bit difficult, but surely loyalty counts for something.” Maureen refolded the napkin on her lap. “I love you, but it’s been tough to find anyone willing to take you on after what happened with Passionate Publishing.” Libby’s hand tightened on the stem of her wine glass. “That’s unfair. You can’t blame me for one editor’s mental health crisis.” “What about Romance Novelists International? They kicked you off their board.” “Not true,” Libby spluttered. “I stepped down because of Studgate. I felt there was a conflict of interest. No one asked me to leave.” She couldn’t believe Maureen now blamed her for Studgate, something that happened when another romance author decided to try to copyright the word “stud.” It had nothing to do with Libby, but she’d ended up right in the middle of it, thanks to her Hard Rocking Studs series. Of course, Maureen had conveniently forgotten she’d chosen the title for that series, which caused Libby to be named (along with many other romance writers) in a lawsuit. She ended up resigning from her national board position with RNI, and in a sad turn of events, the board replaced Libby with her archnemesis, Scarlett Wilder. Scarlett was an annoyingly perfect woman who wrote spicy regency romances. Everyone loved her,