I have just begun the final edit on one of my novels, which began its life as an erotic romance. I am re-working it as women’s fiction with erotic elements, and some of the scenes need to be cut or heavily edited, like the one below (with an added embellishment at the end).

The novel is set in Paris. Henri is a French businessman; Lilianne is a suburban divorcée, visiting from Melbourne, Australia in search of her mother.

“I hope you don’t mind ma chérie, Maree is on her way up.” Disappointment at the idea of company was evident in Henri’s voice.

He’d been a perfect gentleman during dinner, charming and attentive, but the thrill when our gazes met was less than civilized.

Henri’s privileged background was so different to my own suburban upbringing, but the chemistry between us was indiscriminate. The lightest touch of his fingertips on my lower back as he pulled out my chair at the beginning of the meal had me yearning for more contact. The heated lust in his eyes whenever he found an excuse to brush my skin proved him a conspirator in our attraction.

Was I hoping this gorgeous man would seduce me? Could I protect my barely healed heart if I ended up in his bed?

It would be all too easy to follow wherever the night led: I was already in his home, an apartment that reflected the sleek, understated charm of its owner. Continue reading →