I’d been putting up with my ex’s mediocre bedroom skills for so long because he was incredible in every other sense of the word. While his love for cooking, cleaning, and matching Tupperware lids was more than a bonus, he was my best friend and biggest confidant. But his penchant for allowing me to soak in long bubble baths, never giving me flack for wanting to hang with my girlfriends, taking regular spa days with me, and not caring when I went shopping should have been a sign that I was his cover so his family didn’t know his true self.

And oddly enough, I’m okay with the breakup (for obvious reasons). After a rocky few weeks where I felt betrayed, I came to the realization that it’s a pretty awesome breakup. I still get to keep my best friend in my life since I have no real reason to hate him, and for the first time in his, he gets to be his true self since I sat with him, holding his hand, as he told his parents the truth.

Win-win all around.

The problem?

Now I’m stuck in a state of bleh.

The kind of bleh that leaves me unable to find my writing muse again. The writing muse I need to finish the manuscript due to my publisher over a month ago.

A dozen books on the New York Times bestseller’s list, and I’ve lost my mojo.

Well, not exactly my mojo. I sit down to write every day. A laptop in front of me, a complicated Starbucks order to my left, and a notebook and pen to the right . . . but hours later and the same blank screen with the same blinking cursor blurs before my eyes.

Sure, words have been written and deleted what feels like a hundred times, but at the end of the day, my word count is nonexistent.

How does a romance writer succeed and finish a book when she hasn’t been able to string coherent sentences together for weeks on end? How does she meet a deadline when typing every single word feels like she’s scraping it from the bottom of a cluttered barrel only to realize it doesn’t fit anywhere on the page?

Add to the misery that incredible tropical vacation said ex-boyfriend/best friend and I were going to take to shake the winter blues? Yep, he’s taking Gary instead of me.

Good for them.

Miserable for me.

The question is, how do I get rid of this feeling of bleh?

Sex.

And not just any sex, but rather some old-fashioned bed shaking where I don’t have to think or care, only feel.

Hell, it’s not like I’ve been serviced properly in the two years I’d been with my ex, so I feel like this is a needed thing. Doesn’t everybody deserve some incredible after breakup sex?