Love Never Chose Me - Sample

Chapter One

"Emily, your next book needs to be a romance," my agent exclaims, staring straight into my eyes.

I immediately let out a loud groan and roll my eyes in irritation. I came to this meeting ready to hear those words from Mara, but even so, I can't help but feel extremely annoyed once she actually says them.

"You know I need at least one romance from you, Emily. I believe it's time to give psychological horror a break and focus on something new, like romance," she adds without taking her scrutinizing gaze off me.

"You know that I can't write romance, Mara. I've told you that dozens of times before," I hiss while trying to control my tone. Even though my agent is used to my short temper and sporadic rudeness, I always do my best to respect her as much as possible because she is the woman who sells my books to the publishing houses.

"You don't want to write romance because you don't believe in love, but that doesn't mean you can't write about it," Mara says, her voice soft. "Besides, you have been in love before, haven't you?"

I keep staring at the beautiful woman sitting across from me at the table as I try to come up with a plausible lie—I mean, answer.

Yes, I have been in love before, unfortunately.

"You can't fool me, Mily. You don't talk to me about your private life, but I can see in your eyes that you have been in love before and know what it feels like to look at someone and have your breath taken away," she continues, smiling.

"I really don't want to write a romance, Mara. Please, let me write something else, like a fantasy or sci-fi," I plead.

"Romance it is, then," she smirks and stands up from her chair, heading to the door. "Send me the first ten pages as soon as possible, please."

I roll my eyes again and leave her office without uttering a word.

"You need to work on your manners as well, Mily. You're too stubborn," she adds, laughing out loud.

I step into the elevator and let the door close without bothering to reply to my agent's comment, mainly because it's true—I do need to work on my manners.

* * *

One hour later, I am finally parking my red Audi TT inside my apartment's garage, thanks to Manhattan's stupid traffic.

Jeez, why does everyone need to ride their cars? Why don't they ride bicycles and shit? Argh, who am I to talk? It's been years since the last time I've walked from point A to point B, and don't even ask when I last rode a two-wheeler.

"What took you so long?" Hansel, my roommate and best friend, asks as soon as I enter our apartment. "You're late for our dinner with Charlie and Faith." He glares.

"Don't blame me. You can blame the stupid traffic," I retort, heading straight to my bedroom. I need to take a shower to ease the tension on my shoulders; otherwise, I won't be able to enjoy dinner with my childhood friends.

"How was the meeting with your agent?" Hansel follows me closely.

"Why did I choose to become a writer again?" I huff while fishing clean panties, jeans, and a basic shirt out of my wardrobe.

"Why? Did Mara ask you to write a romance again?" He laughs.

"She didn't ask me; she practically forced me to write a romance, and this time, I couldn't even say no."

"Do you know what you're going to write about?"

"Love and shit." I shrug and step into the bathroom.