Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“Premium package, from the looks of it,” Vicki hummed lasciviously. “Not that I was staring at his junk, but I’d have been hard-pressed not to notice the man is hung like a horse.”
I lost the battle, promptly sputtering and snorting coffee through my nose. “Geesh, Vicki! That’s…rude.”
“Very,” she agreed with a wink. “So what? I’m stating facts, honey. And I’m only sharing my thoughts with you.”
“And your soup-meliers?” That was what Vicki called her cooks, by the way. Sommelier, soup-melier…it sort of made sense.
“Okay, you got me. I have a big mouth, but don’t you worry, I’m not interested in wrangling a man. I had the best. No one can take your dad’s place.”
“Vicki…”
She held up her hand like a stop sign. “Try your soup while I bore you with town gossip. You’ll never guess who’s pregnant. Tiff Bautista. I called it, did I not?”
Vicki launched into storyteller mode and somehow managed to make the impending arrival of our local florist’s third child with her high-school-sweetheart-slash-husband-of-ten-years sound like front-page news. I oohed and ahhed while inwardly battling an unexpected bout of…let’s call it discombobulated duress—for no discernible reason.
I owned a dreamy bookstore and a cute cottage in a town that no doubt had inspired more than one Hallmark holiday movie. I had good friends, an interesting hobby, and I had Vicki. I had so much to be grateful for and yet, I was acutely aware of what was missing…and who was missing.
Ugh, I’d been afraid of this. My holiday blues were creeping up earlier than ever. It was a cycle, and I couldn’t seem to shake the blahs once they hit. First came sadness, then anger, followed by rueful acceptance, and finally…peace.
I could use a nice fantasy diversion in the form of a cowboy with calloused hands and a big dick and—
Oh, boy.
I lifted the lid off the container and picked up the spoon Vicki always included, hiding my face in my soupy morning snack while silently cursing whatever impetuous force in the universe had encouraged me to give a complete stranger a saucy gay romance book. And him for taking it!
Add “horny” to my list of woes.
3
MOODY
The day started out slower than normal. I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to catch up on display design for the upcoming Haunted Hollows Book Fair. Doc Montez bought a few coloring books for his grandkids who were visiting over the weekend, and Gail Jensen bought three historical romances to take with her to Portugal. That was it.
Until the bell above the door chimed at one p.m.
“Hiya, Moody.”
I froze on the third step of my ladder, blinking like a vampire awakened in a new time zone as I cradled volumes one through four of a popular paranormal series in my arms. “You’re back.”
Hudson chuckled softly and tipped his hat in greeting. And darn it, he was more handsome than yesterday. Was that possible? I wasn’t sure why a different color of plaid flannel would make a difference. Or maybe it was the cut of his dark jeans. These were a tad more snug in the crotch area and—
Oh, no. No lecherous longing looks.
“I am and I—hey, let me help you with that.” Hudson hurried to the ladder and held it still while I slid the books onto the shelf.
I thanked him, dusting my hands off as I climbed down. “What can I do for you? Wait. Don’t tell me you stayed up all night reading and finished every book you bought yesterday.”
He gave a roguish smile. “Just the gay romance.”
My jaw hit the floor and stayed there for an embarrassingly long duration.
“The cowboy romance,” I squeaked.
“That’s the one.” He moved to the register and casually leaned against the counter. “It was good. The characters definitely had chemistry, and those steamy scenes were scorching hot. But I have a few gripes.”
“I see.” I cleared my throat. “I’m not the author, but feel free to share said gripes with me. If you’d like.”
“That’s why I’m here. I don’t know anyone else who’s read that particular book, and I have a little time to spare before I head over to Oak Ridge. I thought I’d get your thoughts on the matter and pick up the second book in the series…if you happen to have it.”
“The second book. Uh, yes, I do, and um…I shall return momentarily.” I was grateful for the minor chore and the chance to realign my wavelengths and remind myself that this man was a customer…nothing more, nothing less. Deep breaths, Moody. Deep breaths. “Here you go.”
Hudson straightened from his rodeo hero pose—minus the chaps and ropes and the fragrant odor of livestock—and studied the cover. “Ahh, two burly-chested hotties. Another couple, or is this a continuation?”
“New couple. This one is Maverick and Ted’s story,” I replied like a real know-it-all. “So…gripes? Lay them upon me.”