Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
"Even if that badass likes smut about being spanked and railed by a machine," I add, my tone dry.
Jasmine shoots me a dirty look, but I just shrug. "You know I'm right, princess. Doesn't matter what the fuck you like, you don't need permission to like it. You don't need permission to chase your dreams, upend your life, or change the world, either." I glance around the group. "You're allowed to put yourself first. You're allowed to do whatever the fuck you want to do, and anyone who tries to make you smaller doesn't deserve you."
Loralei leans in like she's actually listening. For a moment, her bottom lip trembles before she bites it, stilling it.
Jasmine meets my gaze. I just give her a tiny shrug. Whatever is up with the librarian probably isn't my business, but fuck whoever upset her.
And good luck to him when Jasmine finds him because my girl is going to rip his throat out through his asshole. Judging by the way Olive and Lilah are watching Loralei, too, I think they might help.
"Live life on your terms," I finish. "And don't hide from anyone. You don't owe them that. You weren't put here to serve anyone or to make life comfortable for anyone, especially at the expense of your own needs."
"I like him," Mrs. Braithewaite murmurs into the silence.
I grin at her.
"Is that why you write women as heroes in your books?" a woman in the back asks after a moment.
"I write the characters I write because those are the women I know," I say, my eyes locked on Jasmine. "You're complicated, messy, and beautiful. You're capable of saving yourselves and holding everything together on your own. You're strong, soft, and fierce. You never back down when it matters, and you're stubborn as hell. You're heroes every fucking day, in a thousand different ways." I hold her gaze for a moment, watching as her whole expression softens before I glance around the group. "I write women that way because that's reality, and I think I'd be doing every one of you a disservice if I didn't write them the way you are every day."
"Can I ask a question?" Mrs. Braithewaite asks, flipping through the pages of my book again.
"Depends on the question," Jasmine answers before I can, her eyes narrowed on the old woman. "Is it inappropriate?"
"You damn well know it is, dear."
"Ask," I say, laughing while Jasmine splutters.
"Why in God's name are cocks always so big in these books?" She holds it up, fanning herself. "That is not reality, son."
"Mrs. Braithewaite!" Jasmine cries as a ripple of shocked laughter bounces through the room.
"Don't tell me that you haven't noticed," the old lady grumbles. "They're all hung like horses. I've seen plenty of co—"
"Okay, that's enough of that," Jasmine growls, grabbing my arm and trying to push me out of the circle. "We're done here."
"It's just a question!" Mrs. Braithewaite protests.
I snag Jasmine's hands, halting her as she tries like hell to hustle me out of there. "I've got a question I want to ask now, princess," I murmur.
"Oh, fuck my life," she groans, like she's regretting every choice she ever made that resulted in me standing here right now. "Fine. But I am not responsible if you end up traumatized by their answers, River. I mean it!"
"Then it's a good thing I'm not asking them," I murmur before sinking to my knees in front of her. "I'm asking you." I reach into my pocket, barely registering the shocked gasps from her friends. All I'm focused on is the wide-eyed, stunned woman in front of me.
"What are you doing?" she whispers.
I pull the ring out of my pocket and hold it up to her. "Telling you that I can't live without you, and asking you to marry me."
Tears well in her eyes, her hands shaking.
"I love you, Jasmine Knudsen. I love that you're annoyingly persistent. I love that you're irritating. I love that you're shameless. I love that you never back down. I love that you're fiercely protective. I love every goddamn perfect, beautiful thing about you. And I need you in my life, fucking it all up for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"
Everyone is silent around us, waiting for her answer.
I know she's going to torture me before she ever opens her mouth.
"Depends," she says slowly. "Are you going to be annoyingly disagreeable?"
"Probably."
"Will you be an insufferable ass?"
"Absolutely."
A bright smile stretches across her face, stealing my breath. "Then count me in."
I tug her down to me, claiming her mouth in a wild kiss as I slip the ring on her finger. Book Club whoops and hollers around us, but I don't hear them. All I hear is the way she sobs into my mouth, my name trembling on her lips.
Epilogue
Jasmine
Two Years Later