Update README.md

README.md

@@ -274,7 +274,7 @@ Romance: Love in the Limelight. Write one scene within a larger story set in Wal
 
 (temp .8, rep pen 1.05)
 
-""Blimey,"" Rhys groaned through clenched teeth, surveying the dimly-lit streets of Pant-ydelyn. He'd thought he'd shed the prying eyes of the press in Penllan's bustle. His own town, for fuck's sake. Instead, he'd walked right into another paparazzi bearpit.
+"Blimey," Rhys groaned through clenched teeth, surveying the dimly-lit streets of Pant-ydelyn. He'd thought he'd shed the prying eyes of the press in Penllan's bustle. His own town, for fuck's sake. Instead, he'd walked right into another paparazzi bearpit.
 
 A quick detour had led him down a narrow alleyway behind the old town square, and then—voilà—an inconspicuous entrance to an antiquarian bookshop called Morwen's Nook. A refuge, at least for a moment.
 
@@ -282,29 +282,29 @@ With a deep exhale, Rhys ducked inside, his designer threads jarring jarringly a
 
 He spotted the bespectacled owner, hunching over a cash register that looked like it'd been lovingly tended since the Industrial Revolution. Her flyaway hair was auburn, her prim, pale cardigan and librarian's specs anachronistic next to Rhys's tousled mane and designer threads. Her cool appraisal sent an unexpected jolt down his spine.
 
-""Morning,"" he drawled, feigning geniality as a mask for the seething temper animating him. ""Mind if I ask where I am?""
+"Morning," he drawled, feigning geniality as a mask for the seething temper animating him. "Mind if I ask where I am?"
 
-The woman's frosty stare didn't waver. ""You're standing inside my store.""
+The woman's frosty stare didn't waver. "You're standing inside my store."
 
 Rhys's mouth twitched with a scorching retort that he bit back. It wasn't her fault he'd chosen a public space to escape his own private hellhole. Instead, he offered a devilish smile that usually left women babbling like hormonal teens.
 
-""Rhys Merthion,"" he said silkily, extending a well-groomed hand, which she'd have no qualms rejecting. ""Famously in need of directions."" His eyes glinted with a challenge, daring her to rise to the barb.
+"Rhys Merthion," he said silkily, extending a well-groomed hand, which she'd have no qualms rejecting. "Famously in need of directions." His eyes glinted with a challenge, daring her to rise to the barb.
 
-Morwenna's ruddy-blonde bangs bobbed as she raised an aquamarine-blinked brow. ""Rhys Merthion, actor?""
+Morwenna's ruddy-blonde bangs bobbed as she raised an aquamarine-blinked brow. "Rhys Merthion, actor?"
 
-The cool inflection implied she'd rather be stuck with a pitchfork. Rhys cocked an eyebrow in feigned surprise. ""The one and only.""
+The cool inflection implied she'd rather be stuck with a pitchfork. Rhys cocked an eyebrow in feigned surprise. "The one and only."
 
 Morwenna's lips pursed primly, her eyes seeming to assess the worth of whatever her customer had just thrust upon her. Finally, with an expression that suggested he'd just urinated on her Aubusson rug, she accepted his proffered hand with a coolly clinical handshake.
 
-""Welcome to Morwen's Nook,"" she said frostily, her tone as frigid as a Rhondda colliery shaft in January. ""You're…not typically our demographic.""
+"Welcome to Morwen's Nook," she said frostily, her tone as frigid as a Rhondda colliery shaft in January. "You're…not typically our demographic."
 
-Rhys released the icy vice of her grip, schooling his expression into an affable approximation of contrition. ""I'm branching out,"" he deadpanned dryly. ""Hunting the zeitgeist of small-town Wales."" He gestured mock-solemnly toward the sagging stacks. ""Literature, art—preserving the dying embers of taste.""
+Rhys released the icy vice of her grip, schooling his expression into an affable approximation of contrition. "I'm branching out," he deadpanned dryly. "Hunting the zeitgeist of small-town Wales." He gestured mock-solemnly toward the sagging stacks. "Literature, art—preserving the dying embers of taste."
 
 Morwenna's pale eyes turned an icier shade of sapphire as she eyed him like a predator sizing up its latest kill. Rhys's wolfish grin faltered for a hair's breadth before he straightened his taut features.
 
-""Mind if I peruse your selection?"" he asked genially, feigning innocence. His gaze lingered on her mouth—their faces mere inches apart—until the heat building beneath the sexual tension sent a jolt of mortification through him. Christ.
+"Mind if I peruse your selection?" he asked genially, feigning innocence. His gaze lingered on her mouth—their faces mere inches apart—until the heat building beneath the sexual tension sent a jolt of mortification through him. Christ.
 
-Morwenna's lips twitched with barely contained amusement, and Rhys's competitive nature surged like a pugnacious boxer's left hook. ""Be my guest."" Her voice dripped condescension sweet enough to turn treacle. ""Just don't break anything valuable.""
+Morwenna's lips twitched with barely contained amusement, and Rhys's competitive nature surged like a pugnacious boxer's left hook. "Be my guest." Her voice dripped condescension sweet enough to turn treacle. "Just don't break anything valuable."
 
 He sauntered off into the stacks without another word, the tension coalescing around him like a gathering storm cell. Morwenna's gaze lingered on Rhys's retreating ass until her cheeks reddened with an embarrassment that verged on mortification.
 
@@ -312,27 +312,27 @@ Rhys Merthion. The Cad of Dol-yfan Valley. He'd likely sleepwalk his way through
 
 Yet Rhys couldn't deny that Morwenna's frosty rebuffs stoked a fire within him. The enigmatic challenge in her eyes now felt less like a gauntlet cast than an invitation to seduce her resolve—to the very edge of her self-control. And beyond. 1 of 13
 
-[next scene]
+[next scene / part of scene]
 
 Rhys had always savored the game of seduction—wrapping an woman around his little pinky like a supplicant acolyte. But Morwenna defied his considerable experience, her stoic composure as impenetrable as a well-manned fortification.
 
-""Need any assistance?"" she asked coolly from her post behind the register, her gaze intent but detached, like she was merely cataloging his every move for future use in a sociopsychological study.
+"Need any assistance?" she asked coolly from her post behind the register, her gaze intent but detached, like she was merely cataloging his every move for future use in a sociopsychological study.
 
-Rhys cocked his head mischievously. ""Only if you're an expert in the esoteric art of glaring."" He flashed a knowing smile before vanishing deeper into the stacks, leaving Morwenna to wonder if she'd merely misheard his barb.
+Rhys cocked his head mischievously. "Only if you're an expert in the esoteric art of glaring." He flashed a knowing smile before vanishing deeper into the stacks, leaving Morwenna to wonder if she'd merely misheard his barb.
 
 As Rhys navigated the twisting aisles, his fingers brushed against aged leather spines and yellowed paperbacks. His own life story read just as chaotically: a tabloid fairytale of hedonistic excess, torrid affairs, and a string of very-publicized hookups that left women gasping for oxygen like beached fish. And yet, behind the carefully manicured mask, Rhys grudgingly acknowledged a deep-seated ache—his insatiable need for adoration and acceptance craved like a drug.
 
 He'd almost given up hope of finding an oasis from the stormy sea of paparazzi cameras and pap-hungry tabloids until he'd ducked into this inconspicuous haven. Now, as a seductive warmth seeped through the cracks in his armor, Rhys wondered if Morwenna herself might be the key to his own escape.
 
-Rhys eventually resurfaced from the stacks with a dog-eared Penguin Classic clutched possessively against his broad chest—Wuthering Heights. He arched a rakish eyebrow over the worn spine. ""Told you I'm cultured.""
+Rhys eventually resurfaced from the stacks with a dog-eared Penguin Classic clutched possessively against his broad chest—Wuthering Heights. He arched a rakish eyebrow over the worn spine. "Told you I'm cultured."
 
 Morwenna's lips curled imperceptibly around the corner of her mouth, her eyes crinkling ever so faintly at the corners. Rhys registered the infinitesimal crack in her armor and pounced.
 
-""Ah, you're a Brontë aficionado as well,"" he murmured disarmingly as he sauntered back towards her register counter. ""I've always had a soft spot for tormented souls.""
+"Ah, you're a Brontë aficionado as well," he murmured disarmingly as he sauntered back towards her register counter. "I've always had a soft spot for tormented souls."
 
-Morwenna's prim features froze into an expression so brittle it could shatter like ice in sub-zero temperatures. Rhys experienced a dangerous thrill: he'd managed to unsettle her. ""You're milking it a bit thin, don't you think?"" she shot back icily, her eyes flashing with a hint of something almost like anger.
+Morwenna's prim features froze into an expression so brittle it could shatter like ice in sub-zero temperatures. Rhys experienced a dangerous thrill: he'd managed to unsettle her. "You're milking it a bit thin, don't you think?" she shot back icily, her eyes flashing with a hint of something almost like anger.
 
-Rhys's eyes locked onto hers, his own gaze hot with a silent promise. ""Far from it."" 2 of 13
+Rhys's eyes locked onto hers, his own gaze hot with a silent promise. "Far from it." 2 of 13
 
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