Wet Ink (Plus Size Loving) BBW Erotic Romance by Adriana Hunter Page B
Authors: Adriana Hunter
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me.”
“Hey, you did the work, writing an excellent story. Congrats.” Vanessa relayed the time and place of the meet—three days from now, in one of the most posh restaurants in Manhattan. “Make sure to dress sharp and bring that killer smile! You’ll do great.”
~ * ~ * ~
“I’m so going to blow this.”
“Oh, cut it out, Val” Nancy, her cousin, chided as she pawed through Valerie’s wardrobe. “You’re going to do just fine.”
“He’s going to look at me when I show up and think he’s got the wrong person,” Valerie lamented. “He’s going to say, ‘there is no way this chubby, frumpy girl wrote this romance novel. Readers are going to take one look at her author photo, roll their eyes, and put the book down. I’m calling off this deal.’”
Nancy whirled around, her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Valerie threw her hands up in the air and started pacing the length of her bedroom floor. “Nancy, this is hopeless. When my agent gave me the name of the editor I’m supposed to be meeting with today, I decided to Google him so that I could get a better idea of who I’m dealing with. And he’s gorgeous. With a bit of extra muscle he could be one of the heroes in my novels.”
“Oooh, nice.” Nancy grinned. “ And you’re going to lunch with him. From where I’m standing, that makes you lucky. So what are you complaining about?”
Valerie turned to face her cousin, and then swept her hands out to indicate herself. “Nancy, look at me. I can barely fit into a size sixteen on a good day. White is my nemesis, and you could lay out a three-course meal on the back of my ass. You’re skinny so you wouldn’t understand. You can wear anything you want and look good in it. I, on the other hand, have to spend hours just trying to piece together something that doesn’t look either frumpy or ten sizes too big on me. I don’t understand why designers think that just because some of us are plus size means that we don’t have a sense of fashion. It’s aggravating.”
Nancy shook her head. “You’re a bit dramatic, Val. You’re gorgeous.” She grinned. “And most women, myself included, would kill for your rack not to mention those curves. You’ve got plenty of charms to entice a man with.”
Valerie sighed. “You don’t understand. The whole idea of being an author is that no one would ever have to see me face-to-face. I could project myself as being the same type of woman I write about.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “And instead I’m going to end up in a face-to-face meet with my editor that will bring it all crashing down.”
“Oh, honey.” Nancy pulled Valerie in for a quick hug. “God gave you this body, and you’ll have to work with what you’ve got. “ She stepped back and looked at Valerie’s brilliant green eyes, curling red hair and pale skin. “If you opened up, I’m pretty sure men would be falling over each other’s feet to try and get to you.”
Valerie grinned a little. “You’re so ridiculous, Nancy. But I guess it really doesn’t matter either way—I have to go through with this.” She would hold her head up high and act confident; whatever it took to impress Alex. “I want my books published, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
“Atta girl.” Nancy patted her on the back. “Now let’s get you dressed and out the door. We don’t want you to be late.”
~ * ~ * ~
Valerie paid the cab driver his fair and then stepped out onto the sidewalk, directly in front of The Mark—one of the most prestigious hotels on the Upper East Side. She’d never been before because on the rare trips to Manhattan she never visited the Upper East Side, but it seemed like a quaint, elegant building with its warm, brown bricks and inviting windows.
The outside was completely misleading though—on the inside everything was black and white. The floor was patterned in dizzying black
“Hey, you did the work, writing an excellent story. Congrats.” Vanessa relayed the time and place of the meet—three days from now, in one of the most posh restaurants in Manhattan. “Make sure to dress sharp and bring that killer smile! You’ll do great.”
~ * ~ * ~
“I’m so going to blow this.”
“Oh, cut it out, Val” Nancy, her cousin, chided as she pawed through Valerie’s wardrobe. “You’re going to do just fine.”
“He’s going to look at me when I show up and think he’s got the wrong person,” Valerie lamented. “He’s going to say, ‘there is no way this chubby, frumpy girl wrote this romance novel. Readers are going to take one look at her author photo, roll their eyes, and put the book down. I’m calling off this deal.’”
Nancy whirled around, her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Valerie threw her hands up in the air and started pacing the length of her bedroom floor. “Nancy, this is hopeless. When my agent gave me the name of the editor I’m supposed to be meeting with today, I decided to Google him so that I could get a better idea of who I’m dealing with. And he’s gorgeous. With a bit of extra muscle he could be one of the heroes in my novels.”
“Oooh, nice.” Nancy grinned. “ And you’re going to lunch with him. From where I’m standing, that makes you lucky. So what are you complaining about?”
Valerie turned to face her cousin, and then swept her hands out to indicate herself. “Nancy, look at me. I can barely fit into a size sixteen on a good day. White is my nemesis, and you could lay out a three-course meal on the back of my ass. You’re skinny so you wouldn’t understand. You can wear anything you want and look good in it. I, on the other hand, have to spend hours just trying to piece together something that doesn’t look either frumpy or ten sizes too big on me. I don’t understand why designers think that just because some of us are plus size means that we don’t have a sense of fashion. It’s aggravating.”
Nancy shook her head. “You’re a bit dramatic, Val. You’re gorgeous.” She grinned. “And most women, myself included, would kill for your rack not to mention those curves. You’ve got plenty of charms to entice a man with.”
Valerie sighed. “You don’t understand. The whole idea of being an author is that no one would ever have to see me face-to-face. I could project myself as being the same type of woman I write about.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “And instead I’m going to end up in a face-to-face meet with my editor that will bring it all crashing down.”
“Oh, honey.” Nancy pulled Valerie in for a quick hug. “God gave you this body, and you’ll have to work with what you’ve got. “ She stepped back and looked at Valerie’s brilliant green eyes, curling red hair and pale skin. “If you opened up, I’m pretty sure men would be falling over each other’s feet to try and get to you.”
Valerie grinned a little. “You’re so ridiculous, Nancy. But I guess it really doesn’t matter either way—I have to go through with this.” She would hold her head up high and act confident; whatever it took to impress Alex. “I want my books published, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
“Atta girl.” Nancy patted her on the back. “Now let’s get you dressed and out the door. We don’t want you to be late.”
~ * ~ * ~
Valerie paid the cab driver his fair and then stepped out onto the sidewalk, directly in front of The Mark—one of the most prestigious hotels on the Upper East Side. She’d never been before because on the rare trips to Manhattan she never visited the Upper East Side, but it seemed like a quaint, elegant building with its warm, brown bricks and inviting windows.
The outside was completely misleading though—on the inside everything was black and white. The floor was patterned in dizzying black
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