Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
That's the second time in ten minutes that I've heard similar.
"Oh, but it is." I bat my lashes at him. "I'm counting to three, and then I'm setting them loose." I lean forward like I have to tell him a secret. "And just so you know, they read cowboy romance. They could probably MacGyver a lasso out of a bra, a shoestring, and a hair tie. In fact…" I reach behind me like I'm going to slip my bra off.
"I will be back," he growls, making a beeline for the door so fast he nearly trips over his own feet. And damn, watching him go is something. That ass is a work of art. Too bad it's attached to a man with no soul.
"Are you kidding me?" I growl three hours later, coming to a dead stop in the parking lot when I spot Lincoln leaning against a dark SUV pulled up beside my car. He was supposed to be long gone already!
"Uh-oh," Jazz sing-songs beside me. "Looks like he's back for another round."
"Whose side are you on here?" I mutter, crossing my arms to glare at Lincoln as he pushes away from the SUV and strides toward us.
"I'm on the side of you getting laid by that fine specimen of a man," my best friend says, earning a high five from Olive. "We can go back to hating him afterward."
Loralei just laughs and then slaps a hand over her mouth like she didn't mean to do it.
"You're all dead to me," I sniff.
"My feet hurt enough for me to be okay with that right now," Loralei mutters, earning a nod of agreement from Olive.
Jazz just shrugs like she's fine with being disowned.
Cassia Murphy's quiet laugh spills out around us. "Do you want me to send Cord to deal with him?" she asks.
I glance at her husband, briefly considering it. He has muscles for days, and he wrestles bulls for a living. I bet he can take one real estate demon in a suit. And then I sigh. "No, thanks. I'll deal with him."
"Cool. See you tomorrow." Jazz blows me a kiss, linking her arms through Loralei and Olive's to practically haul them away. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Like there's anything you wouldn't do," I grumble.
"Exactly. Have fun!" she says with a wicked cackle.
Ugh. I need a new best friend. Mine is evil.
Cassia and Cord trail after them a little more slowly, his arm around her waist. They look cute together, not at all like they fit. Maybe that's why they do. They're polar opposites.
As Lincoln closes the distance between us, I seriously contemplate ducking back into the store and locking the door. But I decide not to do it, mostly because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I prefer being the one who sent him running for the hills, thank you very much. Besides, whatever he came to say can't be worse than what he already said, right? Right.
I stand my ground, waiting for him to reach me.
"No need to bribe anyone into chasing me off this time. I come in peace," he says, waving a white pocket square like it's a flag.
I roll my eyes, biting my lip to fight the smile trying to form. I do not need to soften right now. He's the enemy, even if he is one not above resorting to humor.
"They could have taken you," I say. "It's a pity you didn't stick around."
"Are you kidding me?" He quirks a brow at me, a smile tugging at his lips. "I know when I'm beaten, sweetness. Two hundred intoxicated women eyeing me like I'm the key to their next shopping spree is fucking terrifying."
I laugh despite myself. "They wouldn't have hurt you. Much. Just played with you a little."
"Says you. They were ready to fuck me up on your command."
"And yet, you're still here."
"I'm persistent."
"That's one word for it. What do you want now?" I ask.
"To talk," he murmurs, his voice whispering across my skin like a kiss as he tucks the pocket square away. "I'm not here to give you high blood pressure."
"Too late for that."
"You usually have that many people show up for readings?" he asks, leaning against the side of the building with his arms crossed.
"Depends on the author."
"Your store is popular."
"Romance is the best-selling genre in the United States. It brings in over a billion dollars in revenue every year. At any given time, the bestseller lists are stacked with books written by and for women. And yet, most stores don't cater to romance or women. The genre is still seen as the redheaded stepchild of the book world. Would you like to know why?" I ask and then wait for him to nod. "Because the industry is still dominated by men who think their opinions and books are superior to those written and read by women. So yes, my store does well. It's probably one of the few places in Santa Maria where women are allowed to like exactly what they like without being judged for it."