Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Axel holds out his arms, like I told you so.
Drew smiles wickedly. “This was officially worth flying across the country to hear.”
I spend the next day riding my ass off and figuring out how to fix my mistake.
31
A Busy Beaver
Veronica
* * *
I am the busiest beaver in New York City on Sunday night. I’m having drinks with the women from Just for Her at The Lucky Spot.
I contacted Angelica, Lark, and Christine the second I left the café with Amelia this morning. They’re local, so they offered to meet right away.
“We would love to help you put the gift bag together with some of our gifties,” Lark says as our drinks arrive, and she thanks the server.
“Now, what are your faves?” Angelica asks, lifting her martini for a sip.
I reach for my iced tea and drink too, then rattle off some of my favorites. “The Butterfly of course. That’s just so . . .” I wriggle a little bit in my chair. “Cha cha cha,” I say in a sultry tone.
Lark laughs, a smoky, sexy sound. “It makes me want to do the samba too.”
“But I also love The Wave, and for women who’ve struggled to orgasm, it’s life-changing,” I say.
“Everyone should have orgasms,” Angelica says plainly.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say, and we chat further about the life-changing magic of regular climaxes.
Yes, I am with my people, just like I am when I talk to readers at The Dating Pool.
We wrap the meeting, and as soon as I leave the bar, I call Bellamy and tell her I’d love to make the Q and A into a regular thing and use it to launch my new business idea. She says yes immediately, and I am bouncing.
There’s only one more person I need to talk to.
Early Monday morning, I race to Midtown at eight-thirty and pop into Doctor Insomnia’s Tea and Coffee Emporium to grab coffee with my former boss. “So this might sound wild,” I say, diving into the deep end. “I want to start a date-night subscription box. and I think I could be really good at it. But, here’s the twist.”
Blanche’s eyebrows lift in anticipation. “I love a good twist.”
“I want to call it Date Night for One. Have a date night with yourself. Curated by me—the erstwhile friendly neighborhood virgin turned sex-for-one expert. It’ll include my favorite picks for sex toys, little write-ups about each one, and how and why they work best, as well as cute little notebooks and pens for writing down your fantasies. It’ll be all about self-care. But the best kind of self-care there is,” I say with a naughty grin.
“Orgasm care,” Blanche supplies. “I love it. How can I help?”
“I would love your advice on how to grow this new business. I have a chance to launch it at a Ten-Speed Rabbit concert, and I want to go bigger. You said you have a mentorship group, so I would be grateful for any insight on finding loans and so on to get started.”
Blanche’s bright blue eyes twinkle. “I could definitely give you some advice. And . . .” She taps her nails on the table, like she’s thinking. “I could also provide the initial funding. I’d like to.”
My. Head. Explodes.
My former boss wants to invest in my new business?
“You would?” I ask, stammering.
“Actually, let me revise that. I’d love to invest,” she says. “This is women helping women. It’s all about female desire. You made me a brand-new sexual person, and I’d like to help you become an entrepreneur.”
I sit back in my chair, soaking in her offer. “You’re a fairy godmother.”
She mimes waving a magic wand. “You get an O, and you get an O, and you get an O.”
“Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo.”
That evening, I’m pacing my balcony, debating ideas for my next column. But I’m stuck.
And I think I know why. I’ve always been honest with my readers about my desires. Hell, I encourage them to be honest about theirs. Trouble is, I can’t be honest with my readers until I’m honest with one person—the guy I fell in love with.
I need to turn down his job offer. But even if Milo’s not ready for romance again, I still want him to know he did more than please my body. He won my heart.
I head inside, scoop up my pup, and park myself at the kitchen table with my best buddy sitting in my lap. I scratch his chin. “You’re my man,” I tell StudMuffin, even as I long for what could have been.
I flip open my laptop and start a new document.
I have a new top-five list. It’s all about how to fulfill your romantic fantasies, and it starts with this simple plan.
Find the person who will encourage your dreams. The one who’ll believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself.