Make or Break

FROM THE AUTHOR

"When I have an idea for a novel, the first thing I usually start with is: How do my leading ladies meet? Most of the time, I want an amusing situation that I can turn into a story, because if there’s one thing I love, it’s being amused. For Make or Break, I kind of robbed myself of that amusement, trading it in for two women who have been working together for a while, are comfortable with one another, and have been a lil (lot) bit flirty over the years. I consoled myself with the fact that I didn’t have to introduce my characters to each other, spend time with the getting-to-know-yous because they’re basically there—they just needed a kick in the pants to get beyond the “people who work together” to the “hey, I think you’re hot, wanna kiss?” And that’s where I came in. I’ve never considered myself a pants kicker for my characters, but it makes perfect sense and sounds far more fun than author."

—E. J. Noyes

Read more about E. J.'s thoughts on Make or Break at Author’s Corner Blog.

Chapter One

Steph

Laura settled carefully on top of me, holding herself up on her forearm. The fingers of her free hand worked at the buttons of my shirt, deftly undoing them one-handed. “I missed you today.”

I’d already pulled her tee off before we’d tumbled onto the bed, and her bra-encased breasts hovered above me. I ignored them to look into her eyes. Grinning lazily, I said, “It’s not like you couldn’t have found me to say hi.”

“That’s true,” she mused. Laura planted a quick kiss on each of my cheeks before finding my mouth for a slightly longer kiss before she pulled away again. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her nose wrinkled. She pouted. “But Halloran’s been riding my ass.”

“The only person who gets to do anything to your ass is me,” I said, a hint of seriousness in the teasing tone.

Laura smirked, and after kissing the tip of my nose, declared, “You know it, baby.” She lowered her weight fully onto me and we rolled and writhed, kissing and touching in perfect synchronicity. I shucked out of my shirt, and after maneuvering us so she was on top again, Laura helped me out of my bra, her hands covering my breasts as we kissed. I’d just slid my hands up her back when the silken strands of her perfectly coiffed hair brushed against my cheek and nose as she kissed my neck.

Oh no. No no, please no. Anything but tha—

I tried desperately to hold it back, to stay present, but my nasal passages had grabbed the tickling sensation and were running merrily toward a sneeze. For a brief, stupid second I considered hiding the sneeze in Laura’s neck so I wouldn’t ruin the moment. Another touch of her hair on my face meant game over. I only just managed to bring my hand up to block snot from spraying all over her before I sneezed a sneeze that would have been heard in Antarctica.

“Cut!” Monty yelled, packing both amusement and exasperation into that single, short word.

Laura burst out laughing. She wriggled up, still keeping her hands on my breasts, then quickly pulled the duvet free to shield me from the crew who, over the course of creating five and a bit seasons, had probably seen all there was to see.

I grabbed the duvet with my snot-free hand. “I’m so sorry,” I said. My sneeze had just cost us time, and when you already spent ten to twelve hours on set, added time was a problem.

Laura twisted to face me, artfully helping keep me covered. “I knew it was coming when you tensed,” she teased, playfully waving the ends of her long, dark hair at me, threatening my nose again. Smiling when I recoiled, she said, “I almost started laughing before you sneezed.”

“Oh great, so you let it be me who ruined the scene,” I said dryly.

Laura shrugged, smiling smugly. Luckily I was immune to her charm, otherwise work would be incredibly awkward. We both sat up. The set had come to life at the 1^st Assistant Director’s call of, “Reset. Back to one, everybody. Touch-ups please.” We waited for Wardrobe to collect our discarded clothing, so we could wait some more for Hair and Makeup to come over and fix whatever we might have smudged or mussed, and then wait for everything to be reset for the next take. I felt like shit for basically wasting everyone’s time, even though it was an involuntary sneeze.

Our intimacy coordinator, Meghan, came over to check we were both good and ask if we thought anything needed be done differently, confirm the placements of hands during the scene for our levels of comfort with the nudity and to ensure no accidental nipple exposure that would upset the censors. Our network was strictly no nips allowed. Side boob, and a little side butt was fine though.

Laura and I both confirmed all was fine.

My PA, Kayla, appeared by the bed. “Steph, do you need a tissue?”

“Yes please.”

She offered me the box and I took a couple, delicately wiping my nose and my hand before dropping the dirty tissues into the trash bag she held. I patted the hand Laura had put back on the duvet to keep it over my breasts while I dealt with sneeze aftermath. “I know your hair won hottest hair of the summer last year, and it really is gorgeous hair. But if we could try to keep it out of my nose, that would be amazing.”

Laura held up her free hand, three fingers extended like Scout’s honor. “I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are.” There was something in her expression—unusually contemplative for Laura—that made me add, “You okay?” Normally I wouldn’t interrupt shooting to talk about something unrelated to the scene, even if we were technically just waiting for reset. But she looked so weird, and it was an intimate scene, that I was suddenly worried.

Her eyebrows bounced upward. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Totally. This”—she gestured vaguely around the bed—“just made me think.”

“About what?”

“I broke up with Chad.”

“Whaaat?” I’d really thought this was the one relationship of hers that might last at least four months. “When? Why?”

Harper, our Key Makeup, had been making a beeline for us, unzipping her red fanny pack holding Laura’s products. But at Laura’s declaration she’d paused a few steps away. I caught Harper’s eye and shrugged. Laura wasn’t shy about discussing her rotating collection of boyfriends, so I was sure she wouldn’t mind Harper being there. And if she did, she wouldn’t be shy about asking for privacy. Laura wasn’t shy about anything.

“Last night,” Laura said. “And I broke up with him because he’s a whiny moron who doesn’t like my job. Specifically, this part of my job.” She adopted a low dude-bro voice as she put her shirt back on. “It makes me feel weird seeing you so into it with her, babe, like…you know, that you want her more than you want me. I mean it’s hot but also she’s nowhere near as hot as me.” She sighed and went back to her regular voice. “It’s called acting, Chad. I explained, as I always do, how choreographed and mechanical intimate scenes are. No offense, Meghan!”

“None taken,” Meghan said.

Laura carefully pulled her best-of-list hair through the neck hole of her tee. “But he just couldn’t get past it. So, it had to be goodbye.”

I only just held my laugh on the able-to-speak side of hysterical. “Oh my godddd.” A snort fell out. “Did his penis shrivel and fall off because you kiss me at work?” I held out a hand for my bra—well, not my bra, but the black, lace-edged bra I was wearing for the scene—and mouthed my thanks to Susan from Wardrobe. “Also, I’ve never met this guy, but I’m pretty sure I’m hotter than him.”

Laura honked out a laugh (it always amazed me that that laugh came out of that body) while Harper’s was more of a chuckle. I grinned at her. As soon as she realized I was about to get dressed, Harper turned away. Nobody on set ever looked on purpose, but I kind of wished Harper would. Actually no, I wished I could show her, consensually of course, and have her show me in return.

I put the bra back on, hidden by the duvet Laura kept up as a screen. Warm fingers—thanks again, Susan—untwisted the bra straps before my shirt was returned. Now that I was suitably covered, Laura and I climbed off the bed so it could be remade. Everyone buzzed around us as the set, props, and equipment were reset for another take.

Laura blew a raspberry. “I mean, I don’t know what I expected. His name is Chad for fuck’s sake. Steph, why can’t I find men who aren’t jealous idiots?”

“Maybe you should think about dating other actors…” I almost choked, because hadn’t that worked out so well for me.

“There’s no room for another actor ego because my ego fills my house already, thankyouverymuch.” She forced a dry cough. “Anyways, Mami is thrilled about this breakup because she still thinks I’m going to marry Esteban. She forgets I was sixteen when I dated him. We are not going back there.”

“Shame. He’s cute.” Early in our friendship, we’d swapped yearbooks during a day-drinking session, bonding over braces and bad hair.

“He was cute,” she corrected me. “Fifteen years ago. Now he resembles a sleazy used car salesman, complete with chest rug.”

I laughed. “Okay, I see your point.” Gently, I touched her shoulder. “Are you okay about the breakup?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Laura didn’t let having her lipstick touched up divert her, and Harper pulled her hand back as Laura ranted, “I mean, yeah, I’ll miss him in bed. And on the couch, the kitchen table, bathroom counter, car—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” I interrupted good-naturedly as I put my button-down back on.

Harper shot me a grateful look before resuming Laura’s touch-up. I winked at her, and the grateful look turned to a smile that made my stomach do flip-flops.

While Laura’s face was redone, I was checked by an adult to make sure I hadn’t buttoned my shirt wrongly. Once I was deemed dressed, I turned to Harper, smiled, then bent my knees to bring my face down so she didn’t have to reach up as much. She pulled lipstick and a brush from my fanny pack—green—for a quick reapplication, her top teeth pressed into her lower lip the way she always did while she concentrated. I made sure to keep my gaze away from her face, not wanting her to feel weird about being stared at, even though I really wanted to stare.

Harper’s delicate heart-shaped face, kind, warm brown eyes under arching eyebrows, and sensual mouth with full lower lip was surrounded by rich, thick reddish-brunette hair she usually wore loose, which meant I often smelled her hair product. The soft apple scent always made me want to close my eyes, bury my nose in her hair, and inhale deeply.

When Harper was done with my lips and touching up my cheeks, Laura and I sat and waited for Monty. She nudged me gently. “Sorry. TL;DR on Chad. I’ll miss the sex. Maybe the way he made coffee. But that’s it.”

“So, situation normal then?”

Laura laughed. “Yeah. Situation normal.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Hopefully his crap is out of my place by the time I get home tonight. Otherwise I’m dumping it on the curb.” She blew out a loud breath. “Sorry to just go all out on my shit in the middle of shooting.”

“It’s fine. I asked.”

“Do you need some time to focus? I’ll tell Monty it’s my fault you need a few minutes.”

“Nah, I’m good, but thanks.” This was my sixth season playing this role, and by now I found it easy to slip into.

Monty rushed over. He was one of my favorite regulars on North Precinct, and we had him on board for a three-episode arc. “That was looking good, you guys. Steph, are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yep, sorry sorry. I’m fine. It was just a sneeze.”

He gave me an attagirl smile. “Great. Let’s go again, don’t change a thing.” He glanced at Meghan, who nodded that she’d checked in with us. “And, Steph, just…maybe less sneezing this time?”

I should have won a fucking award for the self-control I exerted over my eyeballs, which were begging to do a full spin-on-all-axles roll. It was a sneeze! An involuntary sneeze! I hadn’t flubbed a line or dropped a prop or missed a mark.

“Do you want us to change positions so my hair isn’t on Steph’s face?” Laura asked. She shot a look at me and I caught the ghost of a smirk.

Monty shook his head emphatically and answered the way everyone knew he would. “No, we’ve already blocked it. And Steph finished without sneezing the first take,” he said diplomatically, with the quickest glance in my direction.

Yeah yeah, I got it. No sneezing. It wasn’t like I’d done it on purpose. But instead of saying that, I smiled and nodded.

That earned me a double thumbs-up.

It took another ten minutes or so before everything was ready for another take, and Laura and I went back to our first marks.

Our 1^st AD, Zoe, called for, “Last looks!”

Our Key Hairstylist, Chrissy, moved Laura’s hair to where she wanted it—hopefully where it wouldn’t attach itself to my nose—then finger-combed my short hair back into place. Susan twitched bits of Laura’s and my clothing into place. Harper studied both our faces, nodding to herself. I winked when she caught my eye, eliciting a smile that came with a dimple peeking through on Harper’s left cheek.

I made it through the next take without hair tickles, and Monty’s relieved, “Cut” echoed through the set. We did another few takes for coverage, but even if it’d needed fifty takes, I would never complain. The relationship between Amy Spicer (me) and Valentina Lazaro (Laura) was given the same screen and sexy time as the heterosexual relationships, which was nice for a mainstream network show.

It was totally possible I’d been cast as Detective Amy Spicer to tick a diversity box—an out lesbian actor in a queer role—but I honestly didn’t care. I had bills to pay, a niece and nephew to buy gifts for, and my cat, Asimov, had allergies that required a special, ridiculously expensive diet and semiregular veterinary attention.

When I was cast, they told me my soft butch look paired well with Laura’s femme exterior which, in code, meant if I looked butch-butch, I probably wouldn’t be on the show. “Aggressive masculinity” in a same-sex relationship on television made some viewers uncomfortable. Apparently. According to some think-tank. Some possibly homophobic think-tank. Mmph.

By the time Monty was satisfied, we were due for our meal break. And not a moment too soon. As I was putting my bra back on for the zillionth, and thankfully final, time, my stomach growled loudly.

Dave, our boom operator, laughed. “I don’t need a mic to hear that.”

“It’s all for you, Dave. I know how much you love hearing things with your actual ears instead of through headphones.”

“You’re so thoughtful.”

“I know.”

“Except for that sneeze,” he added, “which nearly blew my eardrums out.”

“Sorry.” I patted him on the back.

Kayla silently handed me my phone, my script, and a bottle of water.

Harper, Chrissy, and Susan were deep in discussion as I slipped past. I smiled and murmured my thanks to the group. Susan’s and Chrissy’s return smiles were warm, but Harper’s was both warm and inviting. Her light-brown eyes crinkled at the edges with her smile. But she didn’t say anything. A pity. Harper’s voice gave me some serious ASMR vibes. I didn’t know if it was the tone—soft and calm—or the accent—a hint of Southern—but whenever she spoke, a pleasant tingle built at the base of my spine. If I had to allocate a voice to personify sweetness, it would be Harper’s—it was honey trickling from a spoon.

I rushed through the maze of sets toward the Catering tables, knowing everyone would be hungry and waiting for Laura and me to get our food first. Laura was already settled at the far end of the dining area, so I nabbed another bottle of water, a chicken and salad wrap, and a fruit salad and went to sit with her. If we were at work together, we always ate together. In the almost six years we’d been coworkers, we’d grown fond of each other and I counted her among my closest friends. Probably my only close friend if I were honest.

Being close made things at work easier, because kissing someone you didn’t like or trust was pretty unfun. Of course, our friendship meant we had excellent chemistry on-screen, which led to the constant less-cool speculation about us secretly fucking.

Laura squashed the rumors by dating every hot guy she could get her hands on, and doing it very publicly. I’d squashed the rumors by being in a relationship with another actor, Jordan Leclerc. Until about six months ago, that is.

My breakup had unfortunately been very public, thanks to Jordan’s drunk make-out session with the lead singer of the Grammy-winning band Squad Queens, and then her abuse of the paparazzi who filmed it. My favorite bit of irony about the whole thing was how she cheated on me with the woman I’d introduced her to after I’d been in the music video for Squad Queens’s multiplatinum single, “Purr.”

It was a pretty good “I want to break up” message, but I wished she’d just come to me quietly and told me it wasn’t working for her. I wouldn’t have been upset, honestly—even after eight months I hadn’t reached the I Love You stage, and clearly neither had she. I’d spent a lot of time and money in therapy processing the breakup and had settled comfortably into some sort of acceptance and realization that there was nothing I could have done; Jordan and I just weren’t compatible. The problem was I’d then spent even more time and money to realize I’d never been compatible with anyone I’d dated.

As if she’d also been thinking about my failed relationships, Laura dove right in as soon as I sat down across from her. “So, now that I’m single again, when are you going to get back out there? I think I need a break from dating. I need to pass the baton to you for a bit, please.”

Frowning, I asked, “What baton?”

“The baton of being out in public with a romantic partner to stop people speculating about you and me.” The words dripped with “duh, you know this.”

I did know that, I just didn’t know that’s what we were calling it now, but whatever. I used my foot to nudge her under the table. “You mean you don’t like people making assumptions about your personal life?” I gasped dramatically. “No way.”

Laura pointed her salad-laden fork at me. “Regular speculation is fine. Creepy speculation that requires my attention and takes my focus away from my nice little life is fucked up.”

I knew what she meant, and she was right—since my breakup I’d let all the attention fall on Laura, and that wasn’t fair. We were friends, and friends shared. Even if that meant sharing public attention and scrutiny. I suppressed a sigh at the thought of having to Do Something about this bullshit. “Okay. Could you call Mia for me, please? She’s always happy to pretend to fawn all over me for a free dinner or two and a couple drinks ‘dates.’” Laura’s cousin had been my decoy a few times during single spells, to do exactly what Laura was suggesting.

Laura nodded slowly. “I could,” she mused. She glanced at something over my shoulder. “Or you could look…closer to home.”

Wrinkling my nose, I tried to decipher what she meant. I couldn’t, so I just asked, “What do you mean?”

She leaned in, and lowered her voice to a whisper I had to strain to hear. “This thing you have with Harper. You should see if you can turn years of flirting into years of…fucking.” She all but mouthed the last word, it was so quiet.

Laura had barely finished speaking before my skin erupted into goose bumps. If I hadn’t had years of practice mastering emotions, I would have embarrassed myself with a reaction akin to a cartoon dog panting.

Harper Bell.

Flirting with Harper Bell.

Fucking Harper Bell.

The thought was undeniably attractive. And undeniably terrifying. Because at the moment, there was no expectation, no seriousness—just flirtatious fun. And if I tried to take things further, then I risked ruining what had become an important part of my workday. And I risked ruining the relationship with one of the people who made me look good for my job.

Not ideal.

But…if I took things further and it worked out, then I’d have both work and home fun.

Nope. Nope-ity nope. The chances I’d fuck it up and lose the fun flirty work vibes and trusted work relationship were too high. I hadn’t been able to be the partner Jordan wanted. I hadn’t been able to be the partner any of the women I’d dated before Jordan wanted. So what made me think I’d be a good enough partner for Harper, who was ten times the woman all my exes were?

I fought down the urge to utter a disgusted-in-myself, “Ugh,” and instead picked up some red cabbage that had jettisoned itself from the wrap, and popped it into my mouth.

Laura wrinkled her nose. “Is that onion?” She was smart enough to know when to drop a topic.

“No. But we’re done kissing for today.” She couldn’t stand onion. I hated tuna with every fiber in my body. We thoughtfully abstained if there was kissing.

“Oh yeah. I swear the days are just one great big blur at the moment. I don’t know if I’m old, or tired. Or both.” She shook her head theatrically, like either thought was horrible. “You know, speaking of kissing, I wish I was a lesbian. It’d be so much easier if we were just dating.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, licking mayo from the corner of my mouth. “Except we’d probably kill each other in the first month.”

“That’s true.”

“Also, I’m probably the only person on the planet who doesn’t want to fuck Laura Allende. Sorry. I love you, but…” She was gorgeous, but thankfully there was not an ounce of sexual spark there for me, because that would have made our work life weird.

She batted her mascara-laden eyelashes. “I love you too, but I don’t want to fuck you either.”

“Also again, can you imagine dating a colleague? Like…they’re there at home and then they’re there at work. And let’s not get into what happens when you break up.” Okay, so maybe I was projecting a little after Laura had sprung the Harper Idea on me, and desperately looking for reasons to not go for it so I wouldn’t screw it up.

“If you break up,” Laura corrected me.

Thankfully I didn’t have a mouthful of food, because I probably would have choked on it. “You, saying if not when for a breakup? You’re killing me.”

“Hey, just because I can’t stay in a relationship doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love. I’m an idealist. Do I need to list people in our industry who work together and are married or dating?”

I’d just put a forkful of fruit salad into my mouth and couldn’t answer, which seemed to give Laura permission to start giving her examples.

“Anna Paquin and Stephen Moyer, Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach, Samira Wiley and Lauren Morelli.” She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to continue listing.

I chewed and swallowed just so I could cut her off. “I get it, Entertainment Industry Trivia Machine.”

She spread her hands in an “I rest my case” gesture. “All I’m saying is that people who are married or dating are working together all over the world, right now. It’s a thing. Why is our job any different?”

“I know it’s a thing, but this point is moot. I’m not even sure how we got to this point. Listen, I’m going to take a nap and meditate before I’m due back on set.” We still had a couple scenes to shoot together and it would take the rest of the workday. A solid nap would give me the energy I needed to power through. And…I freely admit that I was running the hell away from this conversation.

“I hate you and your napping ability.”

“You too could master the art of the micro-nap if you really wanted to.” I stood. “See you in a bit.”

Laura, mouth full, nodded.

I dumped my dirty plate and fruit salad bowl in the dish bin and beelined for the sweet-stuff section. The line had dwindled, and I slipped in beside Harper who was adding a brownie to her plate.

I plucked one from the pile and put it in a napkin to eat on my way back to my trailer. Leaning down to speak close to Harper’s ear, I murmured, “Great minds…”

She startled, then immediately apologized. “Sorry. In my own little world there.” Her nose wrinkled adorably. “What was that you said?”

“I said great minds.” Pointing at her brownie, I elaborated, “Great minds who both want a brownie.”

She laughed. “Oh. Yes, ma’am.” I’d only ever heard her direct a yes, ma’am or no, ma’am at me, no one else, and I fucking loved it. There was never a hint of subservience in it; it was more like a light, almost teasing response. Harper stared longingly at the pile of desserts. “Sometimes sugar is the only thing that gets me through the afternoon.”

“Not the caffeine in those twenty-four ounce iced coffees you devour most afternoons?” As soon as I’d said it, I wished I hadn’t. I spent a lot of time sitting around waiting, and my phone was only so good at holding my attention. I did a lot of people-watching, and noticing her beverage choice wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was amazing how good I was at rationalizing things, like an attraction I’d been ignoring for years.

Harper’s eyebrows shot up, which made me think she’d noticed my noticing. “It’s decaf. No caffeine after two p.m. or I don’t sleep.” Her eyebrows settled back down over her eyes, which had creased with her smile. “And I really like sleep.”

I grinned. “Me too. And that’s exactly where I’m headed now. See you soon.”

Harper nodded seriously. “Nap well.”

I saluted and skulked off before someone nabbed me and stole precious minutes from my nap. I was exhausted and still had to make it through the rest of today and then another three days of work before I had two days off over the weekend.

Aside from a few smiles or “heys” as I slunk away, nobody bothered me. A gift from the universe. I let myself into my trailer, took off my shoes, and fell back onto the twin bed. After checking my messages and emails—nothing important—I set an alarm and closed my eyes. As I drifted to sleep, all I could think of was how nice it would be if I could hold the baton with someone I liked, someone I wanted to spend time with, someone I wanted to kiss, someone I wanted to sleep with.

Laura was right.

I wanted that someone to be Harper.

Women Using Words
For readers who appreciate romances that are driven by dialogue, grounded in character, and infused with humor and heart, Make or Break is an excellent choice. It’s charming without being shallow, playful without being frivolous, and vulnerable without being heavy. Noyes proves that Hollywood romances don’t need spectacle; they can thrive on sincerity.

TheLesbianReview.com
If you want a gentle romance that’s grounded in the real world and excellent chemistry, you should definitely check out Make or Break.

Tempe Luvs Books
What sets E.J. Noyes’ writing apart for me is how she so masterfully sets the scenes and moods with her ability to weave in both clever humor and steamy love into a story. It is always a joy to read her books.

goodreads
Henriette's Reviews - A perfect beach read: heartwarming romance with a lot of spice.

Sophie
Noyes is one of those authors that I always keep an eye out for a new book because you know it’s going to be well written, have beautifully rounded characters, amusing banter and a entertaining storyline.