Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
I open the door and she looks up. “You read it?”
“Yeah. Watch Ares for a bit, will you?” I eye the bottle in her hands. “I figure you were planning on staying here tonight, anyway.”
“I was, but… what are you going to do?” She tries to catch my arm as I pass, but I dodge her. “Ethan, talk to me. Where are you going?”
“Need to pay a couple people a visit.”
“Whoa, wait, slow down! Stop and think this through.” She runs after me, Ares reluctantly tugging behind her on the leash. “Wait for morning at least? Please don’t do anything stupid.”
Fair request.
Ignoring her, I open the car door and shut it in her face.
“It’ll be okay,” I say from behind the glass, locking the door so she can’t wrench it open. I know my sister.
She stamps her foot and sceams, “It’s the middle of the night, Ethan! What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Exactly what I told you.” I brace one hand on the headrest of the passenger seat and reverse. “I’m going to set this right.”
25
ALL WIRES CROSSED (HATTIE)
Ican’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have too many books.
Boxes are scattered across my living room floor, taped and labeled. Some filled to bursting, many way too heavy for one average girl to lift.
My mistake for buying up a heap of used romance books online plus some fancy new hardback special editions and having them shipped to my place for sorting before they go to the store.
Unfortunately, one average girl is in charge of hauling them right now.
Mom should drop by later to help load them into her more spacious SUV, but right now it’s just me finishing up the packing process.
Fine.
Obviously.
I definitely do not miss a certain mountain of a man with biceps for days. There’s nothing I want less than for him to turn up with an apology and a lot of muscle.
Sigh.
The acid vat is still my best option.
And yes, I’m aware I deserve better treatment than what Ethan Blackthorn delivered. I have to own it.
Mom might not be right about Ethan being a total piece of work, but I know I’m worth more than being chucked aside like an expired banana gone mushy.
Unforgivable, no matter his reasons.
I’m not even sure he can grovel his way back.
I legit want a man who loves me harder when times get rough. Somehow, I deluded myself into thinking Ethan might be him.
Now, all I have to do is figure out how to stop wishing he’ll ever fill that hole.
Margot recommends revenge. Pretty intense, coming from his own sister.
She’s probably thinking glitter bombs or pies to the face, but while that would be hilarious, my plan is a little different.
Living well.
Quietly and peacefully.
Never having to lay eyes on his smug, selfish face again.
The best kind of revenge served cold is showing the other person you don’t need them. Showing them exactly what they’re missing.
Right now, Ethan is missing out on not having to wrestle a few hundred pounds of books and ferry them to the store. But when Hat Trick Books reopens and becomes the best niche bookshop in Maine, then he’ll notice, and he’ll be miserable.
Wishful thinking.
I even have a revenge dress in my so-we-meet-again fantasies.
It’s red, backless, and there’s a slit up to my hip.
Margot called it devastating spy chick wear when I told her, and I’m inclined to agree. If Margot ever brings us together at some social event, you’d better believe I’m going to wear it like armor.
Eat your heart out, Mr. Jackwagon.
I am thriving.
At least, I will be once I’ve pushed through this hollow feeling and come out the other side. Preferably without blowing my back out today moving this much inventory.
Maybe someday I’ll buckle down and write my own book.
A life story about a shy girl who used to wear glasses and have frizzy hair, and her journey to single Cinderellahood. And, naturally, the idiot prince who threw away his chance to be with her.
But daydreams won’t help me get this done faster.
Sighing, I set down another box and grab a Sharpie, scribbling Romantic Suspense on the side.
Hat Trick Books is going to be dreamy as hell, a haven for the dark and stormy stuff alongside the lighter slapstick rom-coms. The best dreams come from the pages of brilliant writers who capture love and heartbreak like a fisherman trawling the waters for lobster.
As I box the books by category and seal them up, I dream about what I would do if I was a struggling writer. The greats never quit when they hit a wall.
They always find a way to reignite their creativity and punch right through it, charging back better than ever.
And rave success usually means you fall in love.
Jane Austen never married and look at her.
Absolute powerhouse.
She made history say ‘daddy’ and carved her name on its skin, even if she never enjoyed much fame while she was alive.