Free LEAP OF FAITH by Kimberley Reeves Page A

he gave her a soft smile. “This could really be big for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
    “Have you had anything published before?”
    Abby turned around and stared at him for a moment. “I’m sorry, Jack. I thought you knew. I guess I assumed my dad told you.” 
    “Told me what?”
    Turning the burner on low, she said, “Follow me.”  
    She went to the bookshelf in the living room and pointed to a display of books, all written by the same author. Not quite sure what he was looking for, Jack plucked one of the books from the shelf and turned it over. He glanced at the picture, an incredulous look on his face. 
    “ You’re Abigail Sweeney? But…you’re famous!”
    “Hardly that,” she said modestly. “Sweeney was my mother’s maiden name. I didn’t want my success or failure to ride on the Travis name. All of my books have done well, but none of them have ever made it past number five on the top seller list. I want more, Jack. I want to be number one and I think with your help I just might make it.”
    He put the book back and gathered her in his arms. “You are going to make it to number one. I’ll make sure of it.”
    Abby’s heart leapt in her chest. With Jack beside her, the words had come easily, the story line flowed, and she believed in what he was telling her. She smiled up at him. 
    “You know, I think my love scenes might get a little jazzing up because of you, too.”
    “Really? And why is that?”
    She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Because now I can write from experience. Of course, I may have to do extensive research on the subject.”
    Jack lowered his head, his lips lightly brushing hers. “Well, you know me; I’m always willing to jump right into a research project.” 
    As he tasted the sweetness of her mouth, he was beginning to think being with Abby just might jazz up his own love scenes as well.
    ***
    Jack finished typing the last sentence Abby had rattled off and waited for her to continue. Sometimes she sat beside him and stared off into space, lost in her own world as she composed, but he discovered that when dictating love scenes she closed her eyes. He frequently watched her face as he typed and was fascinated by the maelstrom of emotions she went through, as if she was really living it. When the lovers fought or the heroine’s feelings were hurt, Abby got choked up and her voice became strained. It was touching, and Jack began to realize he was getting far more out of it than simply helping type her manuscript.
    Abby opened her eyes. “That’s it, Jack. That’s all I have in me for today.”
    He set her laptop on the coffee table and leaned back. “Can I ask you something, Abby? How do you do the love scenes so well when I know you haven’t experienced it yourself?”
    “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Women don’t want to read about making love like it really is; they want to read about making love the way it could be if only they were the heroine.” Abby gave a short laugh at his puzzled expression. 
    “When a woman reads a romance book, she wants to feel something. She wants to relive the magic of her first kiss. She wants to laugh and cry and hurt along with the heroine. She wants to see the piercing blue eyes of her lover, feel his breath against her cheek. She wants her heart to race and she wants to squirm while she reads, to really experience the sensation of her lover’s light touch and the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.”
    “But what’s the difference if you say the heroine put her arms around the hero’s neck or she laced them around his neck? The point is, her arms are there. And who the hell cares if his lips brushed hers or you just say their lips met?”   
    Abby sighed. “I guess I should feel flattered that you at least paid attention to the way I structured the sentences, but you really have no understanding of it. Stand up,