You haven’t lived until you’ve written a sex scene in a Starbucks. Especially an awkward, tangled, emotionally charged sex scene involving a telepath.
Maybe there’s a reason that the guy in the corner keeps giving me funny looks when I take a break to play peek-a-boo with his daughter. I mean, I’m not wearing my “I’m writing the Naughty Parts!” t-shirt today, but perhaps he just knows.
Maybe he’s a telepath.
I’ve been working up to using this song as a soundtrack for weeks, and the time has finally come. Heh. Yeah. You see what I did there.