"Hi, my name's Basil Olivier. My mom named me after the herb because she's kind of a psycho botanist-slash-cook. Olivier is French. My dad is French-Canadian and loves for me to tell people that, even though he was raised in Vancouver. I lived there for a while when I was little, but we moved to Washington when I was a three and I've lived here in Cobalt Bay ever since." He glances up at the tall pine trees surrounding us in admiration, then turns to me, the smile never leaving his face. "So now that I am no longer a stranger to you, tell me about yourself. What's your name, to begin with?" I squint my eyes at him for a couple of moments, then mumble, "Beverly." He nods. "Hi, Beverly." "Hi."

Five-time New York Times #1 bestseller, Adelaide Maddox, is not like normal 21 year-olds for many reasons. Not only is she one of the most popular romance novelists, she's hiding something from her readers. She's never been in love, never even been kissed. And when Addy's faithful editor retires and a newer, hotter replacement comes in, how far will she go to make Mr. Elliot Hayes hers? It's battle royale at the office, and maybe with the help of her best friend Bria, Addy can be victorious. And through all of this, can Addy escape her writer's block and finish her sixth novel? Read as Addy acquires her battle scars, goes through lessons in flirting, and struggles to live out her own romance, in I Write Romances, Not Live Them.