What happens when a romance author agrees to test romance tropes in virtual reality?
Following divorce number two, Zoe Woods is jaded, bitter, and unable to write her latest novel. For an author whose brand is all about finding true love, that’s kind of a problem.
Desperate to revive her romantic optimism, Zoe accepts an offer from an unlikely place to beta test virtual reality romance tropes. Unfortunately, Zoe jumps in too fast, and instead of a fun romp in virtual Romancelandia to rekindle her creativity, she finds one debacle after another.
Regretting her choices, Zoe realizes nothing is ever what it seems when it comes to love and romance and fantasy vs real world. The only thing she does know for sure is that virtual reality definitely bites.
“Xander?” I called. “Do I get any kind of directions or do I just go …” The rest of my sentence was swallowed as a man on a horse galloped up a nearby hill, heading straight for me. He wasn’t close enough that I could make out his expression yet, but I could see that he had long, dark hair that swept away from his face … and he was massive. Like Conan the Barbarian massive.
I gulped, my first instinct to run. As the horse’s hooves thundered closer, I could no longer sublimate my flight response, despite knowing I was in a fantasy world. Spinning on my heels, I took off at a dead sprint in the opposite direction. I made it only about a few yards when my feet tangled in my annoyingly cumbersome skirt, and I fell to my hands and knees.
“Shit,” I muttered, glancing frantically over my shoulder at my pursuer.
“Clara, lass, why are you runnin’ from me?” The man’s deep voice, dipped in a delightful Scottish brogue, washed over me as he pulled the horse to a halt, bewilderment playing across his chiseled features.
“Do I know you?” Hmmm … interesting. I also sound Scottish.
The man’s full lips turned down into a scowl as he dismounted and made his way to me. Before I could utter another word, he’d lifted me to my feet, resting his warm hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right, Clara? Did you hit your head?”
Nice touch. He sounded Scottish but not ridiculously so. It wasn’t historically accurate, but who needs perfection when it comes to fantasy? Besides, I hated when other authors wrote too much of an accent into their books, making it almost as difficult to decipher on the page as it would be out loud. Of course, I often got criticized for doing the opposite. To each their own, I supposed … Although, I probably should mention to Xander that it might be a good idea to let the client choose that particular detail. It isn’t one size fits all when it comes to fantasies. Or, maybe it already is a choice and this is just mine? Yeah, it would have been really helpful if I had more information going into this. Thanks a lot, Xander.
“Clara? Tell me what’s goin’ on with you, lass. You have me worried.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to play this one. “Umm … maybe I hit my head? I can’t be sure.”
The man blinked a few times as if processing my response. “What do you mean by you can’t be sure? Do you not remember?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “No?” Now that I was no longer being motivated by fear, all I could do was stare at the perfection of man-candy being offered up to me. Where had the image for him come from? My mind? Algorithms? Bah. Guess it doesn’t matter. He’s here, and he’s beautiful.
Scooping me up in his arms, the man hopped back onto his horse with no effort, as if I weighed less than nothing. “I told you not to go wanderin’ off by yourself. Now you’ve gone and hit yer head, knocking Lord knows what out of it. What am I gonna do with you, Clara? You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“What’s your name?”
“Och, I have a full day of training, but I can see yer goona be needin’ a doctor immediately.” He swept some of my hair off my forehead, gazing down at me tenderly as he cradled me closer. “Don’t worry, Clara, I’ll take care of you.” Butterflies divebombed my stomach. “Okay,” I managed on a breathy sigh, much to my horror. Oh, get a hold of yourself. This guy doesn’t actually exist. He’s made up of pixels and … other techy stuff. Whatever.
Ava Wixx escaped into books at a young age and decided to stay there. It was only a matter of time before she was driven to create her own fantasy worlds from fear of running out of places to explore. Reader, writer, dreamer … Ava only toils in reality when absolutely necessary. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, and spoiled mini-poodle.
Join Master Kingsley and his pet Tate at rock bottom, where their true love story can finally begin. The beautiful and the ugly, the tears and the laughter…and the introduction of a man’s first foray into kink as a submissive Daddy.
We screwed up, Master.
It wasn’t until I stood there alone in the ashes, raw, naked, enraged, and in more pain than I could handle that I realized we’d been wrong from the beginning. I saw our history in the rubble—all our memories, the pictures filled with devotion and laughter, my wholehearted submission to him. And we had to rewrite the ending. We had to. Kingsley and I couldn’t be over. I missed him so much that it hurt to breathe. But we had burned out.
We will burn again, baby.
Our biggest mistake had been to put an expiration date on a love destined for eternity. We’d been blinded by our kinks not lining up perfectly. We’d let fears and insecurities rule in silence, and it was time to confront them head on. We were going to expose ourselves, push every limit, and reignite. Because Tate and I belonged in the fire. We played hard and loved even harder. I wouldn’t allow the unknown to terrify us, to restrict us, even if our new path was…unconventional. Even if we brought in someone else to light the match for us.
By the time pizza got here, I was painfully aware of Lee’s presence. I’d heard his low chuckle a couple times from where he sat on Lucian and KC’s porch. The cabins were maybe twenty or thirty feet away from the edge of the patio, yet it felt like Lee was standing right behind me.
It was a good thing I had my back to them. Otherwise, I would’ve glued my stare to him.
The one glimpse I’d gotten wasn’t nearly enough. Shay had been right. Lee did look as bad as me, which gave me conflicting emotions. It hurt me to see him hurt, at the same time as I found comfort in that he was struggling too. Did that make me a bad person?
I wanted to see him again. Unlike me, he’d never given much thought to what he wore; he was a jeans and T-shirt guy. Or a hoodie now that the weather was turning for the colder. And I kinda loved that about him. His style, or lack of it, represented comfort and familiarity to me. I didn’t know how many times I’d put on one of his hoodies when I had to spend an evening without him, if he was on call or something. He was wearing one of his old Navy hoodies right now, one of my favorites.
I could just picture him sitting over there, casually, one foot resting on his knee, the foot always bouncing a little, probably a smoke between his fingers… And he often ran a hand through his hair. Hair that tended to fall into his eyes. Hair that I’d always liked to tuck behind his ear. Which sometimes annoyed him in a cute way. Like, “Get your paws outta my face, pet.” And he’d narrow his eyes at me before he nipped at my cheek and—
Oh my God. I couldn’t go on like this. I couldn’t keep playing these scenarios in my head; I got so swept away by them, to the point where I could almost smell his hoodie, feel his lips on my neck, hear his warm voice…
A rushing sound invaded my ears. My heart started pounding, and my vision blurred and became unfocused. The grief gripped me so tightly that I didn’t know what to do with myself, but a second later, my flight instincts kicked in. I shot up from my seat and sent the chair flying backward, and then I was running inside. Jesus fuck, my chest hurt. It felt like it was about to cave in.
I heard both Ivy and Shay call my name, but I kept running. Through the club area, out into the lobby, where I took the stairs. I was just fucking done. Done with the depression, done with the pain, done with feeling like my future had just been stolen from me.
I made it to the third floor, and I was a goddamn mess. Fingers trembling, breathing erratic, I unlocked the door to my guest room and all but stumbled inside. A beat later, panic swallowed me whole.
Shit. I couldn’t breathe. I bent over and planted my hands on my knees, and I choked for air. My skin prickled and went numb in waves, my heart wouldn’t stop slamming against my ribcage, and then dizziness washed over me.
I can’t deal anymore. I give up. Send me to the fucking psych ward.
I heard a strangled groan, or maybe a gasp, and knew it came from within. Black spots filled my vision.
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.
There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
Gwen Parks writes compelling romance stories that make the hero and heroine a little desperate. She enjoys reading angsty romances in her spare time and listening to her carefully curated playlists. Second chance romance is her favorite trope to read. She loves when the hero fights for his leading lady and having the heroine a little headstrong. She loves spending her summers in the sun and out playing with her three dogs.
