In Love With the Writer

By Dana Terry

Lindsay loves reading and writing romances. She's falling for her handsome writing instructor, Ryan, but a past hurt is holding her back.

Ryan is a successful author, older and more experienced. He lives alone in a beautiful home that's way too big for one person. The only thing missing in his life is love. He needs to break through to Lindsay, but a secret from his past could hurt her again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dana Terry
• Release date: Apr 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386134060

Dana Terry

Thank you for reading Miriam - Chapter 5. This means a lot to me, really. You are already on my mailing list, so I promise to keep in touch with new books and free stuff. You can also send me an email whenever you like, at [e-mail]. I would love to hear from you.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sitting here on the beach with Blake, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The breeze runs past his body and I catch the scent of coconut suntan lotion mixed with the familiar scent of his skin.

I should be relaxed. It’s so easy to be with him. We’re like two friends who’ve known each other forever. Oh my god, like two friends. I’m falling for this guy so hard, I hope it’s not just a friendship to him.

Don't be silly, how can it be? What about that kiss last night after he walked me home? What about it—I wanted it to last longer, but he pulled away so quickly, and he hasn’t brought it up this whole day.

I watch him staring at the ocean. He seems lost in thought. He doesn’t notice as I linger on his deep blue eyes, his sandy blonde hair, those beautiful lips I’m longing to taste again. Does he even know how he makes me feel?

As Lindsay Shannon read, she felt like she was on the beach with Jennifer, watching Blake watch the ocean, smelling him, falling for him. The door to the classroom opened, and the instructor, Ryan Colby, walked in. He had sandy brown hair like Blake, ocean blue eyes, and a rugged, stubble beard. Lindsay traced the outline of it with her eyes.

Ryan looked to be around thirty, about six years older than her. It felt a little like this might be a schoolgirl crush, but she wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore, right? She was a year out of college, working as a manager at a bookstore in town. Her passion was to write a romance novel, so she signed up for this writing class. She started writing as a junior in college as a way to deal with her breakup with Adam. Stories of tragedy, innocence lost, and revenge lay buried on her hard drive, unable to mend her broken heart. She hadn’t been with another guy since him. Yeah, he had done that much damage.

This class was exactly what she had hoped for.  Ryan was a great teacher. When he talked about writing love and romance, it felt like he was speaking only to her, and she could feel her heart race. If she could risk falling for another man, it might be him. And the way he looked at her sometimes and then looked away when she caught his eyes—maybe he was interested too.

Ryan leaned back against his desk like he did every time he was about to start class, and his eyes landed on Lindsay. She shoved the book in her bag and shook herself from her reverie, embarrassed. This time, he held his gaze and smiled at her, and then began class.

Usually she hung on every word, but today she was distracted. This was the last class of the semester, and she didn’t want it to end. She would love to learn more writing secrets from Ryan, and she wanted to see more of him, a lot more.

She gathered her courage as the class ended, and walked to the front of the room. Ryan was talking to some of the other students. She waited until he talked to everyone, so she’d have time for him alone. She noticed some of the other women take him in with their eyes—he’s mine, ladies.

He turned to Lindsay and smiled.

Ryan, she said, loving the warm sound of his name, I just wanted to say that your class was great—I learned so much.

Thank you, Lindsay. You were one of my most attractive students.

Lindsay raised an eyebrow.

Ryan looked at her like he wasn’t sure why she was staring at him, and then realized what he’d just said. "Oh my god, I’m sorry. I meant to say ‘creative.’ You were one of my most creative students."

She couldn’t even pretend to be upset. He was cute when he was flustered. Thank you. I get the creativity from my Dad. He had to come up with new names and backstories for our family every time we were forced to leave town.

He laughed. Joke, right?

Yeah, joke . . . and my looks are from my mom, she said, not letting him off the hook.

He smiled and his eyes lingered on hers for an extra moment.

So I was wondering if you have any other classes I could take, she said.

"I