First Page: The Belly Dancer and the Billionaire – Contemporary Romance
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Peony drew a breath and held it. The butterflies in her stomach grew more active as the elevator ascended closer and closer to the penthouse floor. Normally, she didn’t do private dances, but the amount of money she was promised was too much to pass up.
If she was anything, she was a girl with bills. She sighed.
Two more years. Only two more years of dancing at the Lebanese restaurant. Only two more years of office temp jobs, then she could start her career. Get a job that actually paid something. A job with benefits like healthcare and vacation days. She cheered herself with these thoughts.
It wasn’t that she disliked belly dancing–on the contrary, she loved it. What she didn’t love was spending every weekend shimmying her hips, trying to entice customers to tuck tips into her coin-scarf or worse, her bra-top. Which was why this party–this private performance–was so important. With the money she was promised, she could get completely caught up on her bills and even have a little left over as a cushion.
The elevator stopped, the doors opening directly into the penthouse, and she stepped out. She was in a foyer. It had dark wood floors, light walls and modern art. It seemed sparse, minimalist and to her, almost sterile. She took a sassier approach to decorating. She preferred warm textiles, playful colors, and whimsical objects that made her smile. And they had to be a great bargain.
Whoever decorated this penthouse was not on a budget or interested in eliciting smiles.
“Good. I hoped it was you.” Robert came around the corner. He was about thirty, tall and lean, with dark blond hair and devilishly handsome features. There was a wicked curl to his lips, a glint in his blue eyes that warned he was trouble for the fairer sex. She hadn’t known him before last night, but he had been outrageously flirtatious when he was trying to convince her to dance at this party; a birthday party for his older brother. She had been impervious to his charm–she had too much on her plate to waste her time with a playboy–and the only reason she agreed was the outrageous amount of money he offered her.
She glanced around the foyer once again and thought about the luxury building they were in–on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Well, it was an outrageous amount of money to her, but to him it was probably pocket change.
“Do you need to do anything to get ready? You can use the spare bedroom.” He smiled at her.
She shook her head and dug into her tote bag. “Just start the music whenever you want me to begin.” She handed him a small drive. “Is it okay if I leave my things here?” She slipped off her flats.
He took her tote bag and raincoat. His eyebrows raised appreciatively when he saw her outfit.
“I think I like this one more than the orange one you wore last night.” He flicked a coin that was dangling from her bra top. It clicked into others, creating a pretty, musical tone.
“Tangerine,” she corrected automatically. Tonight she was wearing a dark green top embellished with gold beads and coins. Her skirt was made of divided panels of dark green and pink fabric attached to a gold bead-and-coin belt and her beaded armbands had the same green and pink fabric panels. The colors complimented her warm skin tone and rich brown hair that tumbled in loose waves around her shoulders and down her back.
‘Pretty Woman’ at least gave the audience a half way believable initial scenario, but the latest host of billionaire romances are downright offensive in their lack of intelligence and at least cursory realism. Once, just once I’d love to read about a billionaire who doesn’t look like some movie star or model on top of fortune and youth. Just once.
This is so out there, that my suspension of disbelief got a terminal cramp. I wouldn’t read on.
I would read on. I’m not into billionaires at all, but I am interested in what happens next at the party.
Hi Author, and thanks for sharing.
There’s a cadence to your writing that’s going to wear thin, or already has for me. She’s in a foyer; description of foyer. She sees Robert: description of Robert. She’s wearing a costume: description of costume. Yes, we need to know some of these things, but I think you need to work a little harder at making those descriptions flow more naturally in the writing, of having them occur in a more organic fashion. (The following is not the greatest example either…)
“The elevator deposited her in the foyer. She stepped out, her flat skidding on the marble floor. Catching her balance, she jarred the Bauhaus side table. The Ming vase prominently displayed wobbled and she automatically reached out to steady it.
By the time she’d crossed the small space, she was a sweaty, nervous wreck. Not the best state of mind or body to be in to make a great first impression. ‘Get a grip, Peony.’ ”
Beyond that, eh…I’m tepid if I’d read on. There’s really nothing here that’s caught my eye, other than a slightly off-beat MC with a different occupation. But it’s formulaic.
And if Robert is the romantic interest, ick. I don’t like him. I’m with Peony; I don’t want to waste my time with him either. If a customer flicked a thing on my bra, I’d probably slap his hand.
And there you have something else with the writing. Or more to the point, with showing depth in your MC. She detests men putting money in her bra-top. Robert however flicks a coin, sends it jangling…and you dive into a description of her costume.
I have an immediate reaction to Robert: dislike. What’s her reaction? With your MC, I have no attachment to her, no connection. You’ve buried her in a sea of descriptive sentences. Does she want to slap Robert too? Does she smile through gritted teeth, knowing she has to suck it up or she’ll lose the job? How does she feel?
If I connect with the hero, and don’t like him, but have no connection with your MC, there’s no reason for me to turn the page.
I was assuming that the love interest was the older brother…
The two bits where the writing slightly creaked for me were:
“…and she stepped out. She was in a foyer. It had…”
and the description of her costume.
The first is a bit Janet-and-John, and the second reads like an odd aside.
There, the important thing to me-as-reader is that he’s just invaded her space, and I want her reaction – flirtation, anger, resignation – and instead I get a paragraph about her clothing. Perhaps it’s meant to read that men touching her costume is such a regular occurrence that she doesn’t even register it but, if so, that could be clearer. OTOH, the paragraph allowed you to somewhat describe Peony without her looking in a mirror, happy times.
For the most part I liked the writing and I liked Peony. I’d read on.
Good luck.
Good point about wanting to see her reactions more than a description of her dress (although being a belly dancer myself, I always love jangly things and descriptions thereof). But more than the reader wanting a reaction, the billionaire wants a reaction. This is a missed opportunity to define their dynamic. Is she secretly charmed? Does it make her blush with shame that she’s selling her art to a cad? Will she hate him forever while she carries on a fiery romance with the brother, resulting in an family epic in which this moment defines the conflict for the next three generations? Or does she not care? It’s a pivotal moment…use it!
Tangerine is a shade of orange. At that point, I decided Peony was obnoxiously pedantic and would have closed the book.
The tangerine thing reminded me of my favorite Project Runway moment: Christopher Palu and the whol blood orange debacle. I also found it to be an unnecessary comment. Unless that is some aspect of her personality that must be introduced.
I also thought (and hoped) that the older brother would be the hero, not Robert. My best friend bellydances and I know she would be horribly offended if anyone flicked something on her bra top-especially when she was having a conversation with him. It’s weird that Peony has zero reaction.
The other thing that pinged me as weird was when she came in and he said “I hoped it was you”. At first I thought he had hired some random bellydancer and was glad she was the one who showed up, but not the case. Then I realized that (I think?) he was glad it was her who had just arrived. But surely if she’s the entertainment she’s either arrived early to set up and be there before the guests, or oartway through? I dunno, could be just me but that line struck me as odd.
In general, I hope this is going somewhere that I would read (although I am not a billionaire fan) because of the bellydancer aspect. I would read on to see where this goes, but due to my mama bear nature where my own bellydancer friend is concerned, there are a few plot lines I’m envisioning where I would have to stop. But yeah, I’d read on, especially if this was edited to cut out some of the description.
I’m your reader so of course I really, really like your premise. I’m also riding that Billionaire trope like a pony! And I have no problem with the OTT, fantastical nature of the trope- that’s the whole point! I mean, what would an HP be without a ridiculously handsome Billionaire from some tiny, made up European nation, or a Sheik who conveniently spends most of his time in England? I can never get enough.
A Billionaire obsessed with a Belly Dancer? I am all over that! If I saw that on Amz with a good blurb and a decent price I’d be one clicking that so fast I’d hurt myself.
Anyway, I liked the title and I was immediately interested and excited to read. But then, to be truthful I could see that the writing needs some fine tuning. Carol explains this beautifully, and everyone else is giving great suggestions for bringing out the emo and characterization here. Remember, in a Billionaire romance, we want the sexual tension and it must be dripping with all the feels. ALL THE FEELS!
And here’s a thought, I’m not certain if you’re starting this couple’s story in the right place. Because there’s this:
“Good. I hoped it was you.” Robert came around the corner. He was about thirty, tall and lean, with dark blond hair and devilishly handsome features. There was a wicked curl to his lips, a glint in his blue eyes that warned he was trouble for the fairer sex. She hadn’t known him before last night, but he had been outrageously flirtatious when he was trying to convince her to dance at this party; a birthday party for his older brother. She had been impervious to his charm–she had too much on her plate to waste her time with a playboy–and the only reason she agreed was the outrageous amount of money he offered her.
I need to see that above scene. Without it, what is happening in the hallway between them is falling flat. Why does he think he can play with the bangles on her bra and she lets him? Why does he want her there? What happened when they first met? I bet it was juicy…I must know!
Good luck with this. Keep going, I’m eagerly awaiting my opportunity to one click. :)
I’m stumped by the beginning. Why does she have to work two more years as a temp and a bellydancer before she can start her career? Is she going to school at nights or something else? This just left me so stumped that I had trouble moving on.
Hi author!
Your premise would totally have me hooked, and I would love to read about a belly-dancing heroine. I really liked the comment about whoever decorated the place not being interested in eliciting smiles — heh. Mostly because it likely wasn’t the person who owns the place. They have people for that. And their people have people for that. It really is another world.
I think the advice above is pretty spot on, especially with giving me more to empathize with your heroine (how does she feel about correcting this guy? How is he going to react? How does she feel about him touching her chest? How does she feel about a square foot of flooring likely costing more than her take-home pay for a month?). I think the only other thing I had trouble with was that “private dance” does not mean dancing, necessarily, to me — and that I would be impossibly suspicious of going somewhere alone in case the people involved did not, in fact, have dancing in mind. Especially if they’d been flirting with me the night before.
Also, having been in the bizarro-land of obscenely expensive city buildings, you’d have to get past a fair amount of security (I mean not only do penthouses not have buttons in the elevators, but you need a key pass to even make the elevator move, or an attendant). I get that some of this might feel detail-heavy, but it’s part of the song and dance and the lack of it made it feel much less real to me. I’m totally willing to suspend disbelief, but for the big details, which makes the smaller ones need to ring true all that much more.
I worked in one of these places, and it is WEIRD when everything is oozing money while trying to still scream taste, and people ask you really strange questions like which box of $500 chocolates you would buy if you were them, when you are thinking “that’s half my rent right there are you seriously asking me this”. I love the dichotomy of it (although it grated at the time — the correct answer was whichever one they seemed to be leaning toward because you’re paid to validate their choices, it is ridiculous), it’s one of the reasons I like billionaire books, but this opening has about the same emotional impact as going to visit an uncle you don’t see very often. I want to feel her butterflies!
I liked it. I liked the rhythm of your writing and I liked your heroine. I did not like the protaganist. I don”t understand the “he flicked a coin on my bra top.” I was offended, anyone who did that to me would pull back a nub. The sentence felt disrespectful of the hroine after bulding her up to be someone who was only dancing as a means to a better life. A person with goals and aspirations has a sense of self and would not allow such behavior.
By the way, why so many descriptive sentences; the foyer, the costume, etc ad nauseum?
The Billionaire and the Belly Dancer is pretty intriguing, but this fell flat. You have too much description not enough impact. Give Peony a goal, (other than making money, which she is already has a contract to do.) What does she want out of the party?
What does Robert want?