Writer's Block Read online

  Writer’s Block

  Synopsis

  Author Wyatt Whitlock is one of the biggest names in action thrillers and writes for the largest publisher in the business. She’s extremely private and writes prolifically—well, until recently. Writer’s block may spell the end of her career if she can’t figure a way around it. A drastic change in scenery and a really old house in New Orleans could get her creativity going again, but renovating the house she bought on a whim might just kill her.

  Hayley Fox has put in her time as an assistant to an assistant in publishing, and it’s finally paid off. She’s been hired by a firm in New Orleans and she’s planning to use that as a springboard to the big leagues in New York, if only her sexy new neighbor—whose bare windows face Hayley’s—didn’t make staying put an oh-so-tempting option.

  Wyatt and Hayley might be made for each other if only they can get through nosy neighbors, the historical society, at-odds future plans, and all the secrets hidden in Wyatt’s walls.

  Praise for Ali Vali

  One More Chance

  “This was an amazing book by Vali…complex and multi-layered (both characters and plot).”—Danielle Kimerer, Librarian (Nevins Memorial Library, Massachusetts)

  Face the Music

  “This is a typical Ali Vali romance with strong characters, a beautiful setting (Nashville, Tennessee), and an enemies-to-lovers style tale. The two main characters are beautiful, strong-willed, and easy to fall in love with. The romance between them is steamy, and so are the sex scenes.”—Rainbow Reflections

  The Inheritance

  “I love a good story that makes me laugh and cry, and this one did that a lot for me. I would step back into this world any time.”—Kat Adams, Bookseller (QBD Books, Australia)

  Double-Crossed

  “[T]here aren’t too many lesfic books like Double-Crossed and it is refreshing to see an author like Vali continue to churn out books like these. Excellent crime thriller.”—Colleen Corgel, Librarian, Queens Borough Public Library

  “For all of us die-hard Ali Vali/Cain Casey fans, this is the beginning of a great new series…There is violence in this book, and lots of killing, but there is also romance, love, and the beginning of a great new reading adventure. I can’t wait to read more of this intriguing story.”—Rainbow Reflections

  Stormy Seas

  Stormy Seas “is one book that adventure lovers must read.”—Rainbow Reflections

  Answering the Call

  Answering the Call “is a brilliant cop-and-killer story…The crime story is tight and the love story is fantastic.”—Best Lesbian Erotica

  Lammy Finalist Calling the Dead

  “So many writers set stories in New Orleans, but Ali Vali’s mystery novels have the authenticity that only a real Big Easy resident could bring. Set six months after Hurricane Katrina has devastated the city, a lesbian detective is still battling demons when a body turns up behind one of the city’s famous eateries. What follows makes for a classic lesbian murder yarn.”—Curve Magazine

  Beauty and the Boss

  “The story gripped me from the first page…Vali’s writing style is lovely—it’s clean, sharp, no wasted words, and it flows beautifully as a result. Highly recommended!”—Rainbow Book Reviews

  Balance of Forces: Toujours Ici

  “A stunning addition to the vampire legend, Balance of Forces: Toujours Ici is one that stands apart from the rest.”—Bibliophilic Book Blog

  Beneath the Waves

  “The premise…was brilliantly constructed…skillfully written and the imagination that went into it was fantastic…A wonderful passionate love story with a great mystery.”—Inked Rainbow Reads

  Second Season

  “The issues are realistic and center around the universal factors of love, jealousy, betrayal, and doing the right thing and are constantly woven into the fabric of the story. We rated this well written social commentary through the use of fiction our max five hearts.”—Heartland Reviews

  Carly’s Sound

  “Carly’s Sound is a great romance, with some wonderfully hot sex, but it is more than that. It is also the tale of a woman rising from the ashes of grief and finding new love and a new life. Vali has surrounded Julia and Poppy with a cast of great supporting characters, making this an extremely satisfying read.”—Just About Write

  Praise for the Cain Casey Saga

  The Devil’s Due

  “A Night Owl Reviews Top Pick: Cain Casey is the kind of person you aspire to be even though some consider her a criminal. She’s loyal, very protective of those she loves, honorable, big on preserving her family legacy and loves her family greatly. The Devil’s Due is a book I highly recommend and well worth the wait we all suffered through. I cannot wait for the next book in the series to come out.”—Night Owl Reviews

  The Devil Be Damned

  “Ali Vali excels at creating strong, romantic characters along with her fast-paced, sophisticated plots. Her setting, New Orleans, provides just the right blend of immigrants from Mexico, South America, and Cuba, along with a city steeped in traditions.”—Just About Write

  Deal with the Devil

  “Ali Vali has given her fans another thick, rich thriller…Deal With the Devil has wonderful love stories, great sex, and an ample supply of humor. It is an exciting, page-turning read that leaves her readers eagerly awaiting the next book in the series.”—Just About Write

  The Devil Unleashed

  “Fast-paced action scenes, intriguing character revelations, and a refreshing approach to the romance thriller genre all make for an enjoyable reading experience in the Big Easy…The Devil Unleashed is an engrossing reading experience.”—Midwest Book Review

  The Devil Inside

  “The Devil Inside is the first of what promises to be a very exciting series…While telling an exciting story that grips the reader, Vali has also fully fleshed out her heroes and villains. The Devil Inside is that rarity: a fascinating crime novel which includes a tender love story and leaves the reader with a cliffhanger ending.”—MegaScene

  Writer’s Block

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  By the Author

  Carly’s Sound

  Second Season

  Love Match

  The Dragon Tree Legacy

  The Romance Vote

  Hell Fire Club in Girls with Guns

  Beauty and the Boss

  Blue Skies

  Stormy Seas

  The Inheritance

  Face the Music

  On the Rocks in Still Not Over You

  One More Chance

  A Woman to Treasure

  Calumet

  Writer’s Block

  The Cain Casey Saga

  The Devil Inside

  The Devil Unleashed

  Deal with the Devil

  The Devil Be Damned

  The Devil’s Orchard

  The Devil’s Due

  Heart of the Devil

  The Devil Incarnate

  Call Series

  Calling the Dead

  Answering the Call

  Waves Series

  Beneath the Waves

  Turbulent Waves

  Forces Series

  Balance of Forces: Toujours Ici

  Battle of Forces: Sera
Toujours

  Force of Fire: Toujours a Vous

  Vegas Nights

  Double-Crossed

  Writer’s Block

  © 2022 By Ali Vali. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63679-022-0

  This Electronic Original Is Published By

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: May 2022

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Victoria Villaseñor and Ruth Sternglantz

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design by Jeanine Henning

  eBook Design by Toni Whitaker

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you, Radclyffe, for your support and friendship—I treasure both. Thank you, Sandy, for all you do. You’re the best at titles and blurbs and I really do appreciate you and your friendship. As for my BSB family, there are no words adequate enough to let you know how much I care for every single one of you. It’s a blessing to go through life knowing there are so many great people who have my back no matter what. Thank you all for your friendship and support in tough times.

  Thank you to my awesome editors, Victoria Villaseñor and Ruth Sternglantz. Vic, thank you for all your lessons, and for making me laugh when I explained the premise of this book. I like that you understand me no matter what leaps we’re about to take. You and Ruth have taught me so much and given me the courage to try new things. I appreciate both of you. I’d like to thank Jeanine Henning for the awesome cover that sums up this book in one picture.

  Thank you to my first readers Lenore Beniot, Cris Perez-Soria, and Kim Rieff. You guys are the best and I appreciate all the help.

  A huge thank you to every reader who writes always wanting more. You guys send the best emails, so every word is written with you in mind. This one is a little off my usual path, so I hope you enjoy it. Sometimes all we need is to laugh and forget everything that’s happening in the world, and that’s what Writer’s Block is meant to deliver. Another big thank you to all of you for reaching out after the storm. The support, prayers, and good wishes were humbling.

  I’m ready to get back to new adventures, so my wish is that we’re that much closer to seeing each other in person, telling stories, and sharing a drink or two—an old-fashioned with friends sounds like something to look forward to. For now, I’ll lift a glass at home with C. Verdad!

  For My Muse

  and

  To My Fellow Authors and Readers

  Chapter One

  Phoned it in and the connection was bad! That’s the best way to describe Wyatt Whitlock’s latest thriller. Believe me, using the word thriller for this latest work is like trying to squeeze a forty-inch waist into thirty-inch jeans. You can try it, but it’s an exercise in futility. Take my advice—skip this one, and try the Yellow Pages instead. It’ll be a much more riveting read than Clifton Heights.

  Wyatt Whitlock read the review, syndicated in dozens of newspapers across the United States, for the fifth time, waiting for the urge to strangle Antonio Skuller with a typewriter ribbon to pass, but no such luck. The slimy asshole took pleasure in other people’s pain, especially if they wrote books. The truth, though, was that she couldn’t find fault with his review. Clifton Heights had started off fine, but then writing it had become like pulling words out of her ass. The problem with pulling anything out of your ass was that it stunk. No matter how fond you were of your crap, it was still crap. You could dress it up, and you could title it, but your shit still stunk. Or was it stank?

  “Are you blaming your shit on us?” Her mother’s voice popped into her head like it’d been doing for the last three months, as always, uninvited. “I don’t need an invitation—I’m your mother. As for the other thing, it’s not our fault the gas line in the house shot us into oblivion at two thirty in the morning. Maybe write about that. The unfairness of life? That you can complain about, but it’s still no one’s fault.”

  “Listen to your mother, kid.” Her father’s voice hadn’t been left out during her slide into a quite humorous but pronounced insanity. She blamed it on the fact that she’d spoken to her parents at least once a day all her life, and in an instant, her sounding boards full of advice and ideas went silent. The quiet some people craved was grating on her nerves and blowing out the creative streak she’d had from age five when she’d written her first two-page book.

  She balled up the review and threw it into the fire. The intense but brief fireball gave her a bit of satisfaction. Antonio deserved to get hit, but not necessarily killed, by a city bus. Maybe one of those double-decker numbers always going to Times Square, so the tourists could get pictures and videos of the fucker, moaning as he got gum in his hair. Once the accident made the news, she could write a review about Antonio’s pathetic namby-pamby performance.

  The white screen with a blinking cursor from hell said otherwise. Her brain had run as dry as the Sahara when it came to the written word. Who would’ve guessed her creative muses were a contractor and housewife from Brooklyn? Well, that wasn’t strictly true—she knew, had always known, her parents’ influence. They’d been her biggest cheerleaders and had filled her with the confidence to pursue her passions. That unending support had landed her here.

  The brownstone off Central Park was beautiful, according to her mom, and had good bones, according to her father. Now it felt more like a cell than a home, and she had to get out of here or suffocate. She hadn’t left it since the funeral, not in the mood to deal with people and their false sympathy. Those insincere voices full of pity were enough to drive her over a cliff. She’d finally ripped the phone out of the wall after some people didn’t get the hint when she didn’t answer the door. People meant well, but pain was hard to work through. Someone telling her they were sorry didn’t mean shit.

  Her thoughts ran amok like a mouse who ran a maze in search of cheese but only slammed into wall after wall. She kept slamming into memories of all the opportunities to spend time with her parents she’d missed, times she’d blown them off to work or whatever. Knowing that she’d never have that chance again made her want to go to bed for the next year.

  “What the hell are you saying? Are you an idiot?” Her brain had gotten her mother’s inflection and word choice down perfectly. “Do you think we want you moping around forever? You spent more than enough time with us. Any more and the world would’ve demanded you go to therapy for your codependence issues. And you look horrible in sweatpants.”

  She glanced down at the sweatpants she’d been wearing for five days straight and grimaced at the jelly stain on her knee. Then again, who the hell was going to see her, aside from her dead parents? They dropped in more now than when they were alive.

  “We visited plenty despite the crippling traffic into the city. Now, do me a favor, and take those clothes off, take a shower, and go to bed. You’re stinking up the place.” Her mom would call often with that advice whenever she was battling a deadline. “You’re never going to find a wife if you keep acting like personal hygiene is something I never taught you.”

  One more glance at the laptop confirmed that the screen still hadn’t miraculously changed from the blank page, so she slammed it shut and stripped for the shower. The hot water did make her feel more human, and the sheets felt better against her skin as she fell into a dreamless sleep. It was a godsend of oblivion where she didn’t have to think about her life and everything that had gone wrong.

  As she slept, the blank spaces in her brain started filling with rather vivid pictures, which cam
e with interesting narration by her parents. They supplied a roadmap of what her next steps should be, and their strange plan had nothing to do with writing anything. She woke a few hours later, and the notepad next to her bed held some scribbles, but at the center in her handwriting was: New Orleans.

  Her dreams came back to her, and she groaned. There had to be some other way to get out of the slump she was in, but her destination was there in big letters. Granted, it appeared like she’d written the words while she was drunk, high, and being chased by killer zombies, yet this wasn’t the craziest thing she’d thought about in the last few months.

  She opened her laptop, exited the blank page that had mocked her more than Antonio Skuller, and opened Zillow. Scrolling through the houses gave her a sense of purpose, until she stopped her search when her hand momentarily froze, and she shook her head when she glanced at the property. “No. For the love of God and little baby goats, no.”

  The place didn’t look horrible, but she wasn’t interested in any real estate in New Orleans. There was a perfectly great luxury hotel downtown. The Piquant had been wonderful the last time she’d been in the city for a book signing. She had no need for an old house that was big enough for a brood of twenty she had no interest in having. Children were like golf and macramé—perfectly lovely pursuits for other people who possessed more patience than she’d have in this lifetime.

  That was all true, and yet, she emailed the agent in charge of the property, using more words than she had in weeks. For some ungodly reason, she even made a lowball offer on the place, which for all she knew might just be a pile of rotting boards at this point. According to the listing, the house was last sold in 1913, which seemed strange. Either the owners were a hundred and fifty years old, or the house had been uninhabited for ages.