Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 31149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
I don’t even think. I just react. Kip is at my heels as I jump over the counter and rush out the door by Tenille’s desk to get to the teenager. I look the girl over and ask, “Where? Are you okay?”
“Not me. Come on!”
She takes my hand, and I look back to find Tenille with my emergency backpack. I take it from her as she grabs hold of Kip’s collar. I call out a thanks before the girl drags me out the door and down the sidewalk. It’s covered in ice and snow. The January sun is bright in the sky, but it’s still colder than hell, so nothing will melt. I try to be cautious, not wanting to bust my ass, but the girl won’t let up. Before I can even ask where we’re going, she drags me into Promise Pond Books, and the air is knocked from my lungs as I take in the scene.
A woman lies on the floor, her peachy-pink hair dark with blood. A stone dick is next to her head, and her mom is trying to wake her up. My stomach flips as I take in her porcelain skin, the pink in her cheeks, and her parted mouth. My eyes fall to her chest to make sure she’s breathing, and she is, thank God.
I’ve never been this close to her.
Maeve Lane.
Multiple best-selling novels, movie deals, and a Netflix series. My favorite author.
Or, as the town knows her, Maggie Welch.
Daughter of hockey legend and mayor, Alex Welch.
Also known as the woman I have had the biggest crush on since I first saw her laughing in a paddleboat in the middle of Promise Pond.
A crush that only grew when I learned she was the author of my favorite romances.
Someone I can’t seem to string together more than two words around.
Which are usually “Hi” or “See ya.” Or my favorites…ugh.…ugh…um.
Insert facepalm emoji here.
But none of that matters. I have to help her.
Not because of the oath, but because…I need to.
three
. . .
Maggie
“Owwww.”
My head is pounding, and why is it so bright in here? I blink once, twice, and then a third time before the light moves, and I figure I must be in heaven.
Because an angel is before me.
The most striking man, with deep brown eyes, dark curls falling into his eyes, and the most intriguing nose, is the only thing I can see. His brows are pulled in tight, worry creasing his beautiful face. I am not proud of this, but my last main male character’s nose was based on this nose. It’s narrow, but it’s rounded at the tip, like a little teddy bear nose on a massive hunk of a man’s body.
“Holy shit, Dr. Do-My-Body-Good?”
His eyes widen just a fraction before the most devastating smirk pulls at his full lips.
I hear coughing before my mom tries to save me. “Dr. Aldridge, love.”
“What did I say?” I ask, unable to pull my gaze from his. Everything feels like it’s moving at half speed, but I have a feeling that’s not from the head injury. You know that giddy feeling you get when you see a hot guy? The little wiggle you do before you blush as red as a fire hydrant?
Yeah, that’s how this man makes me feel.
Dr. Aldridge is still grinning. “Not that, but we’ll chalk that moment of confusion up to one heck of a head injury.”
I’m sure I’m supposed to agree—hell, I’m supposed to say something—but all I can do is stare. He has such soul-deep brown eyes, thick black lashes, and that damn nose that I can fully admit I’m obsessed with. My eyes trail along the sharp lines of his face. He is always so clean-shaven and put together. I’ve only admired him from afar, but this close, I can see the indent in his cheek. An old injury? He doesn’t seem like the type to play hockey or even any sports. Not that I would know. He is a very private man.
Dr. Aldridge is my neighbor. Our storefronts share a wall, as do our living rooms, but that doesn’t mean we speak. He waves but then heads the other way very quickly. He doesn’t go to the bar or even the town events, which is unheard of since Holiday Ridge is known for our town festivals that celebrate every single holiday. He’s been here a year, and I only get to enjoy him by watching him walk away.
Not that I’m complaining. He fills out his slacks very nicely.
But this close…this face?
I died, right? I’m in heaven?
He runs a damp cloth along my temple and tsks. “That sculpture got you good.”
I smile. “I don’t have the best track record with cocks.”
“Jesus, Mags,” my mother groans.
But Dr. Aldridge’s grin grows more. Lines appear by his eyes, and a little wrinkle appears on his nose as his teeth blind me, they’re so white. Or maybe I’m super concussed.