by Suzanne Clarke, Editor

Following up our general Presents feedback, here are some further general comments for all you aspiring Modern Heat writers out there, based on what we saw among the entries.

The most important aspect for Modern Heat is definitely author voice - we’re looking for voices that are sparky, lively, young, contemporary. Voices that communicate the sexual tension between the characters in a sexy, natural way and that are also unique and original. We have authors from all around the world, and right now we are also looking specifically for American voices, so there’s plenty of opportunity to try again!

Modern Heat features young, contemporary characters in affluent urban settings.  Heroes are young alpha-males – confident and successful, in aspirational professions, but we did see a fair few heroes without a penny to their name. Career choices and the success your characters enjoy can say a lot about who they are - and a hot young millionaire tycoon will always have the edge over a paparazzi photographer or local shop owner! So think aspirational when it comes to your characters…

We saw many first chapters featuring the heroines talking to their best friend/work colleague in a bar, drinking Chardonnay – but is this the only way to create that city girl feel? Is there a stronger way to open your story? Remember, your opening chapter should have great impact – so think about how your hero and heroine can get together as soon as possible so the story can begin!

Secondary characters are part of the Modern Heat experience, but it is important that they do not overshadow the central relationship, as we found in some chapters. Your characters’ circle of contemporaries, friends, family and colleagues will all help to create a picture of who your characters are in the reader’s mind, and can also help to move the story along in places, but should not come into your story too much…

Sex – Modern Heat novels are very sexy, fun and flirty, but mind-blowing sex still needs the emotional context – just as for Presents, sex without emotion just leaves the reader cold! Again, some writers whisked their characters into bed so soon, we didn’t get the emotional development beforehand, or to enjoy the heady build of sensual anticipation that Heat readers love - before things get really hot!

Dialogue – always a potential stumbling block, but we are looking for sparkling, sophisticated dialogue that conveys the emotional conflict, and deepens as passions intensify! The writer’s voice really shines through when it comes to dialogue, so this is an area for some aspiring writers that may benefit from further work.

So we hope these further comments are helpful. Don’t forget to go back to the Presents post and read through the points on character and conflict development, as these still apply when it comes to creating a strong, character-driven story. As before, don’t beat yourself up about what you did or didn’t do, but think positively, focus on working on any identified problem areas and try again! With the workshop notes posted before the competition opened, there are excellent resources here to draw on, including a post dedicated to Modern Heat by our very own Modern Heat Senior Editor, Bryony Green - a must-read for all aspiring MH writers.

Good luck, and send your Modern Heat partials (three chapters and a synopsis) to Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR. Don’t forget to enclose a stamped addressed envelope!
 

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by Catherine Witmer, RT senior series reviewer 

Do YOU:
• Love Harlequin Presents Extra?
• Have a strong point of view?
• Possess the ability to write about both in a clear and concise manner?

Then you just might be the new Harlequin Presents Extra reviewer Romantic Times BOOKreviews is looking for!
 
Previous review experience isn’t necessary, but an ability to meet deadlines consistently is an absolute must! For further information, and/or to apply for the position, please contact Catherine Witmer, RT’s senior series reviewer, at CatWitmer@hotmail.com.

Tags:Presents Extra review Romantic Times Uncategorized

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by Harlequin Presents Editorial Team

There’s was a great deal about Eve’s first chapter that we loved:

 This story was dark, dark, dark! It threw you right into a sizzling opening scene with a gritty, edgy back-story with taut, intense tension building up to the moment that the hero and heroine first meet.
 There is a smouldering sexual connection between the hero and heroine – the chemistry is superb!
 Great characters: Loved the hero’s arrogant nonchalance – he came across as seriously sexy. Heroine was sympathetic, plucky and likable
 Fabulous, fresh spark to the author’s voice, with some great lines, such as ‘it’s one night, Virginia, not one time.’
 Gambling isn’t always an aspirational trait for a Presents hero, but we thought Marcos retained a sense of honour within this situation. 
 The main positive - we wanted to read on!

The full manuscript has been requested by Harlequin Mills & Boon, as we thought it showed great potential, we were desperate to find out what happened to Marcos and Virginia, we did have some revisions suggestions for Eve on her first chapter:

 While we want to know that he is certainly powerful, commanding and ruthless, but suggesting that he might be a killer or a drug lord. We need to be fully certain that he isn’t going to harm Virginia in any way.
 The main point for revision is Gregg. The intensity of this scene instantly drops as soon as we hear Virginia mention her boyfriend Gregg. We are left in little doubt that Virginia will sleep with Marcos here even though she is in a long-term relationship.
 Beyond the opening chapter, we’d be looking for the emotional conflicts of both Marcos and Eve to be deepened, darkened and fully explored. Currently it seems that the secondary character of Gregg plays a pivotal role – we’d want to flip the focus back on to the hero and heroine’s emotional conflicts.
 

 

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by Eve Powers

THE GAMBLER, SYNOPSIS:

Marcos Allende is a millionaire, a gambler, and a mystery. From the first moment Virginia sets eyes on him, she feels an intimate pull to the dangerous Latin businessman. Until she finds herself gambled off by her father. The winner isn’t Marcos, but Marcos isn’t about to let anyone touch Virginia but himself. He buys the prize and gets her for himself for one night.

Virginia is angry, frightened, and more than that, she’s eager. For years she’s been waiting for her longtime boyfriend Gregg to return to marry her as he promised and yet all this time, Marcos’s presensce has made her want other things. She wants to be with Marcos, but is determined not to let that night change her.
 
But as with all plans, not everything was taken into consideration. She never considered how tender he would be, how his seduction would affect more than her body. One night with Marcos ends up changing everything.

She focuses on her candle business and struggles to deny Marcos once he starts pursuing her. When Gregg returns, Virginia is torn between choosing a man who makes her feel safe, and one who makes her burn.
 
Marcos will never have enough of Virginia. One night taught him that. Now he will do anything in his power to prove to her he’s a worthy man, and his last gamble with be on her. He’s returning everything her father ever lost—the house, the cars, her mother’s jewels. When Virginia accuses him of attempting to buy her, they make a bet. One more night. If he can’t change her opinion of him then, he will leave her alone forever. But if he can…then she will stay with him forever.
 

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The Gambler by Eve Powers
Chapter One

How could he?

She wasn’t currency, or a car, a house, a necklace. She was flesh and blood. His flesh and blood. Bartered off like a…

Virginia Hollis shuddered. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the back window of the sleek black Lincoln as it wound its way along the darkened streets of Chicago. People strolled down the block; hands in their pockets, chins neatly tucked to their chests no doubt in an attempt to shield their faces from the biting slap of the wind outside. Some men held cell phones to their ears, women struggled with their shopping bags. One glance made it seem like such a regular evening. An ordinary day.

But it wasn’t ordinary. It couldn’t be.

Because Virginia’s world had stopped turning.

Her life—everything she had been working for—had been put on pause for tonight. Her evening with Marcos Allende.

She inhaled a deep breath and glanced down at her simple black dress and the delicate strappy heels on her pink-toed feet. Why had she bothered to dress prettily? Why had she taken a bath, spread moisturizing cream up her legs, painted her toe nails? Why had she used her prized bottle of perfume—the one she couldn’t afford to replace and had been saving the last of it for Gregg’s return?
Wondering, she fleetingly tugged on the pearl strand draped around her neck and tried to focus on the city again. The pearls were smooth under her fingers, genuine and old, and the only thing Virginia had been able to salvage from her mother’s belongings.

Her father had lost it all.

Bet by bet, he’d lost the cars, the antiques, the house. Virginia had watched with a combination of helplessness and rage. She’d threatened, screamed, pleaded with the quickly aging man, all to no avail.

There was no stopping him. No stopping the drinking, the gambling, the whores.

There was nothing left now.

Nothing but her.

His only daughter—bartered to a man nobody knew much of. A man so enigmatic even the press couldn’t dish out the exact source of his unsurpassable amount of money. He was a mystery to one and all. He could be a killer, a drug lord, probably both.

And her father had surrendered her to him over a hand at cards.

Virginia didn’t know how much he owed. She’d rather not know. Whether he’d traded her off for a penny or a thousand, it made no difference. He’d sold her. Gambled her.

To the first unscrupulous bastard who took him up on the bet.

Marcos Allende. Whose very name sent the little hairs on her arms to rise.

Every time she’d seen the quiet, devastatingly handsome man, he would study her with that dark, compelling gaze and disturb every inch and atom of her body with the look of intimacy in his eyes. She would always try to avoid him, look away when he stared. His eyes had a way of undressing her, of speaking in silence, of summoning visions in her mind about him and her and skin and sweat.
But tonight she was on her way to him for one purpose only, and she knew not only his eyes would be on her. He could touch her, do whatever he wanted to her.

How could she stand it?

Her stomach clenched when the car pulled into the ample driveway of one of the Windy City’s most luxurious skyscrapers. A uniformed valet stepped forward to open the door.

She mumbled a thank you and stepped out of the car, walking into the sumptuous apartment building with an eerie calm that belied every one of the roiling emotions inside her.

She made no eye contact with the people milling around the area and focused all of her attention on the bronze doors at the far end of the lobby.

“Mr. Allende is expecting you.”

An elevatorist waited for her, slipped a card into the top slot inside the confined elevator space and ignited the top P. He stepped out with a bow. “Good evening, madam.”

She nodded as the doors closed and stared at her blurry reflection.

Who was that woman? Dressed in her finest clothes, who’s erected wall of fortitude felt near crumpling?

What did she want?

Long seconds later, the doors rolled open to reveal the Penthouse—a vast room covered in black granite floor, dimly lit and lavishly furnished. The walls could’ve been covered in crisp green bills and screamed his net-worth just as loudly. To a mortal, his place seemed as inaccessible in price as the owner was claimed to be in character.
 
Virginia stepped inside, for a moment distracted by the willowy bronzes that flanked the entry, and then by some unknown force of nature, her gaze was drawn to him. He stood at the far end of the living room and bar area, as elegant and unmoving as the designer furniture behind him. Dark, tall, detached. He faced the window, his broad back filling the shoulders of his jacket. Her heart thumped as she took a step forward, the clink of her heels over granite magnified in the silence.

“I trust you had a fine ride.”

Her flesh pebbled at the hum of his voice. So husky. So mellow. As though he were no threat to anyone.

The crackling energy around him dispelled the notion fast.

“I did. Thank you.”

Starting to shake inside, she advanced toward the living room, stepping lightly over a plush Persian carpet. He didn’t turn. She wasn’t certain she even wanted him to. The last time she’d seen him, there had been enough devilment in his gaze to steal her sleep for days. He’d sat at a poker table across her father, his ebony hair tumbling recklessly atop his head, a pair of sleek dark sunglasses curving wantonly around his face. He’d paused when she entered, looked up, and just like that lowered the sunglasses to the tip of his finely sculpted nose. His eyes were a dark cacao, and the effect of them was immediate.

Her knees had started to shake as she set her hands on her father’s frail shoulders.

“Come on, father, time to go.”

“Hello, Virginia.”

The word came out with a slight accent and in a husky, mellow tone that made Virginia’s blood thicken. He loved to roll the r in his tongue and it never failed to unsettle her.

“Hello,” she said, trying to ignore his formidable presence as she bent to her father and whispered, “Dad, I thought we talked about this.”

Her father waved her off. “Not now, Virginia.”

“Father, please—”

“Listen to Virginia, Hank,” Marcos threw his cards on the table, “You don’t want to play with the likes of us.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she said stiffly, grateful he’d pushed his sunglasses back up.

But then he smiled.

A slow curve of his lips, full of wicked intent.  “Who knows what he’ll end up loosing next time. Maybe he’ll loose you?”

Delivered with such promise, the words haunted her for weeks. The eyes, the lips, the name.

It had all haunted her.

And now here she was, facing that bold, virile man in his apartment, on his terms.

Never mind Virginia had her own life, which she’d tried to live by the book. Never mind she’d paid her bills on time and tried first and foremost to stay out of trouble. Never mind she had a man who loved her, was busily working so he could finally marry her. Never mind anything but the payment.

Her.

She could’ve sworn he read her thoughts.

“He lost you,” he whispered, still gazing out the window as though mesmerized by the tiny flicker of lights out in the city.

She swallowed, eyeing his back as warily and ready to leap as a doe would near a predator. “So I’ve been told.”

“I’d never thought you’d cooperate, Virginia. I commend you for that.”

She glowered at his back, considering murder. “Do I have a choice?”

He whirled around and pinned her motionless with the heat of his stare. “There’s always a choice. Your father made it for you.”

Her heart pounded faster. His face was so exquisitely masculine, and there was something so vulgarly bad about him—his attitude, his dark good looks, his accent—that a dormant part of her found thrilling and frightening at once. Every inch of his Latin blood showed in his bronzed skin, the very masculinity oozing off his pores.

His inquisitive gaze traveled in interest down the length of her body until she could bear it no more and lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance. “Where do you want to do this, the bedroom, the couch?”

“All of the above.”

He said it so calmly, so decidedly, she couldn’t help but gasp. “All of the—”

“It’s one night, Virginia, not one time.”

The low seduction in his words made her heart clench in a fist of thrill and dread. She fought the thrill and held onto the dread, telling herself she was here by obligation, and there was nothing this unscrupulous man could say or do to make it otherwise.

“Don’t expect me to enjoy it,” she said bitterly.

He laughed, the sound resembling the roll of distant thunder. “Oh, you will. I’ll make sure you do.” He set his glass down on the nearby bar and signaled to the twin leather couches.

“Sit.”

She grudgingly sat with her back straight and tracked his lithe moves around the room. How could a big man move with such grace?
How could—

“Wine?”

“No.”

He poured two glasses anyway and brought one to her.

“Drink.”

She grasped the fluted glass and stared at a faraway bronze sculpture, trying not to breathe for fear of actually liking his scent. She drew in a shaky breath until he dropped on the couch across hers and leaned back to study her like a Tsar eyeing a banquet.
Surely she must look the part of the trapped captive about to be…ravished.

Did Virginia want to be ravished? Why was there a sense of expectancy in the air? Why did she fear herself as much as him?

Aware of his scrutiny, she set the glass on the side table and gave him an icy smile. “So this is what you’ve lowered yourself to, Marcos. I admit it’s a new low, even for you.”

When he stretched his arms out behind him, he made the couch look smaller, his lean frame overwhelming the bone-color leather designer piece. Under his jacket, the dress shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the top, gifting her with a view of smooth, bronzed skin and a glinting golden cross.

“I didn’t make that bet, your father did.”

One of her eyebrows rose as she forcibly lifted her gaze.  “It was you who took him up on it.”

“I didn’t.” His gaze was unwavering on hers while a muscle ticked in the back of his jaw.  “Lucas Hilton did.”

She stared, paralyzed, and watched him slowly nod. “I bought the bet from him.”

“You what?”

“I bought the bet from Lucas when he won you.”

Rage filled her until she felt infested with it, her hands balling at her sides. “How much?”

“Virginia—”

“How much, Marcos?”

“One.”

“One what?”

“One million.”

She gasped. “One million dollars?”

His smile stretched slowly. “British pounds, actually.”

Outrage robbed her of her breath, and she was flushing so hard her skin felt on fire. “Then I guess that puts me at the very top of the Most Expensive Whore’s list?”

He clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees. “You’re not a whore.”

“You just made me one.”

His eyebrows drew low across his eyes, his complexion darkening.  “Over my dead body was I letting him touch you.”

“And why would you even think I prefer you touching me over him?”

“Why do I think? Let’s see now. You cringe when he speaks, and when I speak you rub the little bumps that rise on your arms. You squeeze your lips tight and white when you see him, and flush a pretty pink all over when you see me. I see the disgust in your eyes when you look at him, and by God I tremble with the starved looks you keep giving me.”

“Starved?” she gasped.

“Yess, starved!”

Their gazes held, clashing like two opposite storms. Virginia searched her mind to contradict him, wanted to tell him she was, in fact, disgusted by him and his sneaky ways to bring her here. But she was so rattled she had only strength to sit very still, keep breathing, and struggle to slow down her heartbeat.

He relaxed his posture and leaned back again, resting one ankle atop the opposite knee. “They’re setting dinner up on the terrace for us. I hope you like salmon?”

She pursed her lips very tight and white as he said she did, determined not to like anything he offered.

He surveyed her in silence. “So are you always paying your father’s debts, Virginia?” His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled, almost—almost—managing to make him less threatening. “I wonder how many others bargained for you before me?”

She struggled to erect an icy wall of fortitude, determined not to let any more of his words penetrate no matter how offensive she found them. “He had other things to gamble with before.”

“Like the Porsche in my garage? The house on Hill street?”

She stifled a wince and tugged the hem of her dress down to her knees when his gaze ventured there. “Yes.”

In silence, he twirled the crimson liquid in his glass. “What will he do now that he has only you left, have you considered that?”

Virginia looked away. Based on her last conversation with her father, she didn’t think he could count her as family anymore. She’d vowed to never talk to him again, and yet out of pity, duty, a morbid curiosity, whatever reason it may be, she was here. For the first and last time, paying his debt. Facing Marcos Allende, a man no one knew whether he was devil or god, man or beast.

“What kind of man gambles with his only child?” he asked her softly.

There was a tinge of tenderness in his voice, maybe pity, which she didn’t want or care for. She shot him a glare and rose to her feet.
“The same kind who takes him up on the offer or outright buys the prize!”

On his feet with her, he covered the space between them and curled a hand around her arm. “Ahh, yes, I know that kind.” He ran a hand up her throat, a caress that was bold and filled with familiarity—as though he’d touched her before. “The desperate kind, the kind who can think of nothing else but the prize, all day, every day, thinks only. Of. The. Prize.”

He curved his hand around her nape and wound his fingers into the raven curls of her hair. “You think I haven’t thought of this, Virginia?” He massaged her scalp. “I’m not as cold as you think I am. I can burn, and by tonight you’ll know just how much you make me burn.”

Her breath came in little gasps, his sensuous words exhilarating and frightening at once. She was torn between latching onto those lips so close to hers and pushing him away.

“Marcos…”

“Marcos what, hmm?” His arms went around her, holding her firmly against every steely inch of him. “Marcos what, chiquita?”

She had never been so swamped with adrenaline. Desire.

She was an independent woman, focused on her career, who’d never gloried so much in the simple sensation of loosening, of letting go of her will, succumbing to the male who by nature was harder, stronger, rougher than she. Honestly. Did wanting or not wanting this matter? Did her life matter? Her virginity? Her hopes for the future? Years waiting for Gregg to come back and finally be married to him and live the life she always wanted? Did anything matter right now but the man looming before her, dark and threatening and irresistible?

God, he smelled so good she felt lightheaded, and so very confused.

“W-why me?” she whispered up at him, unsure whether she should be grateful for the experience of sharing such an enigmatic man’s bed, or pity herself for what was to come. Surely it was something she was unprepared for.

Would anything in her life have prepared her for a man like him?

Only her dreams. Nightmares. Both.

“You can have any woman you want,” she whispered, hating how pleading her words sounded, “and I doubt you’d have to pay for her.”

“Why you, hermosa?” His eyes smoldered to a dark, melted chocolate as his thumb lightly traced her lower lip. “Because I want you, Virginia. And for tonight, all night, I’ll have you.”

His breath was hot and fragrant on her face, eliciting a little moan she couldn’t contain. How would he feel against her? He felt so hard all over, so unlike Gregg. When Gregg held her she felt safe and warm while now she burned, now she felt scared and she needed something more than she could possibly bear or understand.

His voice gentled as he tipped her chin up higher. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

She hissed out a breath. “Stop torturing me!”

“I don’t intend to torture you.” The path of his eyes felt like the caress of a feather brushing her forehead, her nose, her jaw. “I intend to please you. I’ve thought of nothing else. Tell me,” he urged, “Tell me why.”

Why did he ask why when not even Virginia herself knew? She was here, his to do with as he pleased, why should it matter why?
Her chest heaved and she found herself gripping his arms as her legs grew weaker. “I am honoring my father’s debt, nothing more.”

He chuckled softly, tormenting her, melting her with his nearness. “I don’t think so.” He stared deep into her eyes as though searching for secrets, fears. “I’m a gambler, preciosa. I know when to call a bluff.”

He lowered his head and brushed her lips lightly, enough to tease and make her long for more when he retracted. “We’ve wanted each other. We’ve been hungry, desperate to touch.”

“No,” she breathed.

“Yes. Say it out loud, admit it, give us this chance, Virginia.”

She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. She would not risk it all. Marcos Allende might be a gambler, but Virginia wasn’t. She would safeguard herself, do what she must, but by all means she would protect the one and only thing her father hadn’t bargained.

His lips grazed hers end to end, the contact making her gasp with shock and delight. “Say you want me.”

“I can’t.”

His hands lowered to the small of her back, pressing her closer. “You can. Your body speaks to me. It feels soft against mine, it molds to me. Say it in words.”

She closed her eyes, escaping his stare but unable to escape what raged inside her. She sank her nails into his shoulders and sobbed. 
“I want you.”

 
The synopsis will be posted on Wednesday and the editorial critique on Friday — Malle
 

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by Malle

As I have been posting the winning chapters, sysnopses and critiques on the site I realize I have been posting them in the order an editor reads a partial or manuscipt. We (I’m a former editor) always read the  chapters first to delve into the writing and see whether we are swept away and believe in this world and the characters. Then we read the synopsis.

I know this is something aspiring writers wonder about, especially when they are sweating blood over the synopsis. Both chapters and synopsis are important but the chapters are more important.

Eve’s chapter will be live on Monday!

One of the Modern Heat editors will be visiting soon to share what she saw in the contest entries that were targeting Modern Heat.

And last, I am adding another plus for the 100,000 Book Challenge. We are still looking for more readers!

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