"Jack, please, Jack, please come back, Jack! Please." But Jack hasn't heard a word she's said, and before she can say another word, he has fled the room and all she hears are his feet sprinting down the hall.
Ronda blushed and Jesús bowed slightly. "I'm afraid I must go inside now. Otherwise, there is a bride who will have no music." He reached down and only then did she notice the black guitar case beside his feet.
She went up onto her elbows. Stared into his gray blue eyes. The salmon-colored curls ringing his sweaty forehead. She saw the earnest look in his face. "So I think I would like the same thing," she said, not knowing her own voice.
We went through numerous drafts, then began submitting to publishers. One editor offered to buy it--but only if I turned it into a chick lit novel and published it under a female pseudonym. I declined.