Chapter 1: The Collaboration From Hell

by Roxanne Rene

Jewel Marino had been cursed.

Not the supernatural kind that Griffin Royce wrote about in his broody, darkly poetic paranormal romances—no, her curse was far worse.

She had to work with him.

Griffin Royce. Bestselling author. Romance world royalty. The Prince of Paranormal Romance. A man whose books sold in the millions, whose name alone sent fans into a breathless, swooning frenzy.

And now, her co-author.

Jewel slumped lower in her chair at Lucian Cyril’s office, her editor and longtime friend perched across from her, looking far too amused for someone delivering devastating news.

“This is a career-changing opportunity,” Lucian said, flipping through a file. “You and Royce are both rising stars. Together? Publishing gold.”

Jewel scowled. “He writes dark, gothic love stories about vampires and tortured demons. I write realistic contemporary romances. How is that a match?”

Lucian smirked. “Opposites attract.”

Jewel let out a groan and rubbed her temples. “We’re not characters in a romance novel, Lucian.”

“Tell that to your readers when they start shipping you two.”

Jewel choked on air. “What?! That’s—no. That’s insane.”

Lucian leaned back, tossing a glossy black-and-white photo onto his desk—Griffin Royce, caught in a candid shot at some fancy book event, all sharp cheekbones, tousled dark hair, and brooding intensity. He looked like he belonged on a windswept Gothic cliffside, not co-writing a novel with her in a cramped New York office.

“Come on, Mari,” Lucian coaxed, using his nickname for her. “I know you. You love a challenge. Besides, I hear Royce is a fan of your work.”

Jewel snorted. “Yeah? Did he say that before or after calling my last book ‘charming but painfully predictable’ in an interview?”

Lucian winced. “Ah. So, you saw that?”

“Oh, I saw it,” she said darkly.

Before she could wallow in her wounded pride, a knock sounded at the door.

Lucian brightened. “That’s probably him now—”

Jewel shot out of her chair. “Nope. Absolutely not. I need at least fifteen minutes to mentally prepare for this—”

Too late.

The door swung open, and in strode Griffin Royce himself.

Jewel had never met him in person, but that annoyingly perfect press photo didn’t do him justice.

He was taller than she expected, easily over six feet, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black Henley that did sinful things to his broad shoulders. His dark blue-gray eyes—cool, assessing, unfairly attractive—landed on her immediately.

Jewel felt a little betrayed by her own pulse.

“Marino,” Griffin greeted, his voice low, rough, and annoyingly smooth at the same time.

“Royce,” she returned stiffly.

A slow smirk curved his mouth, like he already knew he was getting under her skin.

Lucian clapped his hands together. “Great! Now that you two have met, let’s talk plot—”

Griffin pulled out a chair, settling in too comfortably. “I already have a few ideas,” he said, voice all confidence.

Jewel folded her arms. “Let me guess. Gothic castles? Werewolf princes? Star-crossed lovers doomed by a curse?”

Griffin tilted his head, watching her a little too closely. “You think that’s all I write?”

She held his gaze. “Am I wrong?”

His smirk deepened.

Damn it.

Lucian leaned forward. “Actually, the publisher is hoping for something different—something fresh. A hybrid of both your styles. Jewel’s modern, witty romance meets Griffin’s dark, atmospheric world-building.”

Jewel and Griffin both stared at Lucian.

He grinned. “Think Pride and Prejudice meets Crimson Peak.”

Jewel turned back to Griffin. “This is never going to work.”

Griffin just shrugged, eyes gleaming with challenge. “We’ll see.”

She was going to lose her mind.

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—> Continue to Chapter 2