Prologue

GEMMA

I slowly peel my eyes open and inwardly cheer that sunlight is not yet breaking through the tacky, floral hotel curtains. Phew, I don’t have to wake up just yet.

I try to move my arm, but my whole body is sore. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, I can’t drink quite like I used to. I hope my face isn’t puffy for today’s big event. Damn JoJo and her magical mango margaritas.

Despite the ache, the familiar sound of a toilet flushing forces me to roll over. In the darkness, I see Libby making her way out of the bathroom and crawling back into her bed. I grumble, “Fuck, Lib, you pee more often than my ninety-year-old grandfather used to.”

She sighs as her long blonde hair falls on the pillow. “Sometimes I wish I was a camel just so I could store it all to sleep through the night. It would be worth having a hairy hump.”

“You’d also have a thick, long tongue. I know plenty of men and women who would appreciate that, me included.”

She giggles. “You’re such a perv.”

I yawn and gingerly stretch my arms through a smile. “Proud of it. And who are you kidding? You’re a perv too. That’s what makes us good romance authors.”

Her hazel eyes sparkle, even in the darkness. “Hmm. Valid point.”

I pick up my phone, look at the time, and whine, “Ugh. It’s four in the morning. Do you realize there are crazy bitches who wake up at this hour to go workout? I won’t even get up to pee. I’d rather lay in pain for three more hours than move right now.”

She lets out a laugh. “That’s so true. Though I would argue that standing at a book signing for twelve hours in heels in an inadequately air-conditioned room is a workout. I certainly sweat like it’s one.”

I nod. “You’re not wrong. It’s a good thing we’ve got a big book signing today. I guess we’ll both look like Jane Fonda by dinnertime.”

“Isn’t it bizarre that she doesn’t age?”

I agree, “Best. Plastic. Surgeon. Ever.”

“Too bad she’s a communist. It kind of ruins it for me.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Meh. That was a long time ago.”

We hear JoJo’s voice from the other room. “Will you two shut the fuck up? Ava and I can’t sleep with you blabbering about camel-toed commies.”

We’re sharing a two-bedroom suite with our other author besties, Ava and JoJo.

I shout back. “Sorry. You two go back to cuddling in your bed. Just remember, eating a pussy is like being in the mafia. One slip of the tongue, and you’re in deep shit.”

Libby and I giggle. Somehow, we were assigned a suite where one bedroom has two queen-sized beds and one has a king. Libby and I won rock-paper-scissors, giving us the better bedroom.

Ava and JoJo both yell, “Fuck you,” at the same time.

Libby shakes her head. “You’re such an instigator. ”

I shrug. “I’m nearly thirty. Love me or hate me, I’m not changing at this point.”

“ I love you.”

I blow her a kiss. “Love you too, bestie.”

It’s silent for a moment before she whispers, “I hope I sell fifty books today. According to my financial spreadsheet, I need it to make this trip a success.”

I’m concerned for my friend. It isn’t the first time she’s mentioned money since we’ve been here. “Why? Is business not going well?”

She recently moved from Texas to Florida for her boyfriend, something I would never in a million years do, and is currently working for herself.

“It’s hard doing the freelance web design thing. No consistent paycheck.”

“At least you love it. So many people hate what they do. Hell, most lawyers hate their jobs. I’m the exception. I know I’m lucky that my boss is awesome and supportive of my writing side gig, but I wish being an author paid better so I could have more balance in my life. Maybe even find someone to share it with.”

She blows out a breath. “I guess writing is more of a labor of love for us.”

I nod. “It is. One day we’ll all be as big and awesome as TL Swan.”

“That’s the dream.”

“Speaking of which, we should get some more beauty sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“You’re right. Night, Gem.”

“Night, Lib.”

I wake to a sunlit room and the toilet flushing. I mumble, “Again, Lib?”

She shrugs. “Twenty-seven is the new eighty-seven. ”

“I think it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“It’s time to get up anyway. Will you…umm…do my makeup today?”

My eyebrows must shoot into my hairline. Libby rarely cares about that kind of stuff. “I’d be happy to. Any particular reason?”

“You’re so good at it, and you’re always perfectly put together.” She wiggles her tall, skinny frame. “I need a little of that sassy, classy lady energy today.”

I smile in realization. “Ahh. I forgot that Riggs Romero will be appearing at our signing.”

Riggs is a famous romance novel cover model. Libby has had a crush on him for as long as I can remember.

She blushes.

I don’t want to embarrass her further. I’m happy she asked for my help. “I’d love to do your makeup.”

I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. She yells from the bedroom, “That buzzing noise better be an electric toothbrush, not a vibrator. You have forty color-coded bottles in there and I’m afraid to ask what half of them are. And straighten them up. You know I hate disorder.”

She’s a neat freak.

With a mouth full of toothpaste, I mumble, “It’s a toothbrush. I only use my vibrator in bed after you fall asleep—while I gaze at you.”

She starts laughing. “You’re such a degenerate.”

I smile. I adore Libby and treasure the once or twice a year we get to hang out together. With me living in Philadelphia and her now in Florida, we only see each other at book signings that we both attend.

After I finish in the bathroom, I start her makeup. Letting out a moan, I declare, “Your cheekbones are model-like. I barely need to use any blush.”

She bats her eyelashes. “That’s me. Famous supermodel. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.” She shimmies a bit. “ Speaking of bringing boys to the yard, any worthwhile dates lately?”

I sigh. “Not really. I was on one last week where the guy talked about his car for sixty straight minutes. I couldn’t get a single word in. He didn’t ask me any questions about my life. Some guys are such boneheads. They don’t know how to behave on dates. They have no clue what women want.”

“Why didn’t you get up and leave?”

I’ve been known to do that if a date is going poorly. Why waste anyone’s time when you know nothing will progress?

I scrunch my nose. “Aiden was at the same restaurant.”

She nods in understanding. Aiden is my ex-boyfriend. We broke up about six months ago, and he loves parading his new assortment of women in front of me all the time.

“I didn’t want him to see me on a bad date, so I laughed and pretended to be interested in car mechanics. It might actually be the most boring topic on the planet. The more I laughed about things that weren’t funny, the more my date droned on and on about them.”

Just then, JoJo and Ava walk into our room. I let out a whistle. “Wow. You two look gorgeous.”

JoJo is a little younger than me. Her dirty blond hair is straightened, and her trademark black outfit doesn’t mask her gorgeous curves.

Ava is the oldest of all of us, with brown hair, blue eyes, and curves that match JoJo’s. She’s a stunner.

Ava gives us a bashful smile, but JoJo sucks in her cheeks. “I do look like Giselle, don’t I? I hope my karate instructor wants to bang me like hers did.”

Libby channels her best Marilyn Monroe voice, and breathes, “Yes, sensei. Your wood is so big and hard, sensei. You bring me to my knees, sensei. How about I show you how far I can spread my legs, sensei?”

We all burst out laughing as JoJo places a coffee carrier with four cups on the desk .

Libby looks at it. “Did you get any cream and sugar?”

JoJo lifts an eyebrow. “They’re already in your coffees. You like one cream and two-and-a-half sugars. Two isn’t enough and three is too many. Ava likes it black. Gemma likes a splash of skim milk. Not a full pour because then it makes her coffee cold.”

I love that she knows all that.

She hands me mine and I take a sip. “Yum. This is good. Where’s it from?”

JoJo is a coffee snob. She refuses to drink hotel lobby coffee and always brings her own coffee grounds to brew when she travels.

“This little gourmet shop near my house. Fucking TSA always thinks I’m trafficking drugs when I fly with my coffee grounds. I usually get pulled to the side and they check it. That’s not even why I got pulled aside before a flight a few weeks ago though. Note to self, don’t travel through airport metal detectors in a bodysuit that has a metal clasp at the crotch. I think Vernon from TSA is the most action I’ve gotten in months.”

Libby quips, “That sounds like a reason you should wear a bodysuit through the airport. Was Vernon hot?”

JoJo shakes her head. “Vernon was so ugly he could scare the crap out of a toilet. When he looks in the mirror, the reflection walks away.”

Ava spits out her coffee in laughter. “Oh my god. That’s horrible…and hysterical.”

I nod in agreement as I quickly type away on my phone. “I agree that it’s horrible and hysterical. It’s now going in my next book. Thanks, JoJo.”

She sarcastically responds, “Nothing says rom-com like a good old-fashioned airport near-fingerfucking incident.”

I smile as I turn Libby toward the mirror to show her my finished product. “Liberty Hill, meet your alter ego, Libby Cocks in your mouth , banter queen of the south. ”

She rolls her eyes. “My pen name is Libby Cox with an x , not Cocks as in dicks.”

I wink. “Potato, pat ah to.”

She takes in her full reflection and gasps. “Oh, Gem, even with only one eye I can see what a great job you did.” Libby is blind in her left eye and always makes jokes about it.

After everyone agrees, Libby and I finish getting dressed and meet JoJo and Ava in the living room of our suite.

Ava sighs. “Let’s rock this and sell some books. I didn’t fly all the way to Colorado with this shit just to have to take it all home with me.”

We all grab our oversized trunks of books that we travel with and then make our way to the convention hall for the giant book signing.

FOURTEEN HOURS LATER

We’re all lounging in our pajamas in the living room of our suite, braless, makeup-less, and in a Chinese food coma. We’re drinking some weird JoJo-produced wine and vodka concoction that I know will lead us in a bad direction, but I love these girls and we’re having too much fun to let a little thing like the promise of a bad hangover deter us from a good time.

Our normal silliness is broken up by Libby admitting that she and her boyfriend, Logan, broke up. I feel so bad for her. She moved halfway across the country for that dickhead.

And then Ava admits that her man-child ex-husband, Zach, still calls her because he doesn’t know how to manage his own life.

I sigh. “What does it say about us that we write romance yet can’t seem to find men who come close to the ones we write about? Do you think our standards are too high?”

Ava shakes her head. “Absolutely not. We just haven’t found the right guys yet. They’re out there. Don’t give up on finding your Mr. Perfect.”

“Ahhh, Mr. Perfect. What does he look like?”

Libby smirks. “He’s tall, tattooed, has bulging muscles, a six-pack, and a dick so big, when he’s hard, it causes a solar eclipse.”

We all laugh as I shake my head. “I didn’t mean that question literally. I meant it more figuratively. How does he treat us? How do we want him to treat us? Isn’t it more about how he makes you feel? If he makes you feel like his queen, that’s a Mr. Perfect. ”

Ava, always the retrospective one, says, “I hear what you’re saying. I loved Zach, but being married to him didn’t make me feel good.”

Libby quips, “Because you were more like a babysitter, not a wife.”

I nod. “Exactly. There’s some woman out there who has an over-the-top maternal urge. She wants a man like Zach to depend on her. He will make her feel good, he just didn’t make you feel good, Ava.”

JoJo scoffs. “I feel like Zach is one of those weird fuckers who likes to wear diapers and be mommied as a kink.”

Ava’s mouth widens. “Is that a thing?”

Libby answers, “It sure is. I was in the rabbit hole of googling kinks the other day to see if there are any I haven’t used yet, and that one came up. It’s not sexy. At. All.”

I remark, “But some kinky bitch out there is into it. That makes Zach her Mr. Perfect.”

We all yap about weird kinks for a while. You can have frank conversations like this with your author friends that you can’t always have with your real-life friends. It’s bizarre. We talk about the finer intricacies of anal sex like we’re discussing our grocery lists.

I love these ladies. We only met a few years ago online, but they’ve become so damn special to me. We text in our group chat every single day. Some bookish topics, and some not-so-bookish topics. We’d probably be arrested in a few states if those text chains ever saw the light of day.

After a few more rounds of drinks and a hilarious incident where Libby accidentally used my lube as hand lotion, we somehow get back to talking about Mr. Perfect. A thought occurs to me. “There needs to be some kind of boot camp for guys where they’re trained to be book boyfriends.”

Libby, being the jokester, starts on about what the boot camp would entail. Teaching hopeless men things like the art of sexy doorframe leans, telling us we’re good girls, proper growling technique, and my personal favorite, which I’ve never admitted to anyone, possessiveness. Some people are turned off by it, but there’s a reason I write about possessive men. I’ve never truly had one, and I know, deep down inside, I want one.

They’re joking about boot camp shenanigans and calling Libby a drill sergeant, but I think there’s something to it. I’m quiet for a bit, not listening to whatever it is they’re saying before I chime in, “Ya know, it’s not that bad of an idea.”

Libby appears confused. “What’s not a bad idea?”

I take a long sip of the weird shit we’re drinking that I can no longer taste, before answering, “Training men to become book boyfriends.”

JoJo says, “Well, yeah. That would be nice. Someone needs to do something with the current dating pool. It’s abysmal.”

I look at all of them. “Just hear me out. What if we started a business to do that?”

Ava laughs. “You want to turn Drill Sergeant Libby loose on the men of America? Ooh! Can we get her a whip?”

They’re all laughing, but I’m dead serious. At least I think I am. “Maybe not boot camp style—though I would love to see Libs wield a whip on some clueless sap—but why couldn’t we be consultants? We write the kind of men women want, so why couldn’t we be hired to… educate guys?”

Libby responds, “But then some poor girl gets stuck with a man who’s just pretending. ”

I emphatically shake my head. “No, not like that. We’d want them to be their authentic selves but simply a better version. Teach them how to be more thoughtful. How to cater to their woman’s needs.” I look at JoJo. “Like when you knew our coffee preferences this morning. I dated Aiden for years, and he was still clueless about how I take my coffee. And I order the same damn thing every time.”

Libby pinches her eyebrows together. “Sooo, you want to help men learn their woman’s coffee orders?”

I sigh. They’re not taking me seriously. “Among other things. I think there are a lot of good men out there, but some are clueless about a lot of things. But they wouldn’t be if they would just pay attention to their woman’s needs. We could give them the tools they need to do that. To read verbal and non-verbal clues.”

JoJo’s entire face lights up. “You know, that might actually work. It’s definitely an untapped market with lots of potential.”

I see Ava deep in thought before something occurs to her. “Ooh, I have a friend who reads my books with her boyfriend. She said their relationship has really improved a lot since they started, and not just in the bedroom. She thinks it inspired him or something.”

Libby suggests using our romance books as marketing manuals, but I shake my head. “Not exactly what I was thinking. We should provide an actual service to clients who are interested.”

She asks, “And charge people for it?”

I see in JoJo’s face that she now understands what I’m getting at. “Yeah, I imagine a lot of women would enroll their boyfriends in the…what would it be? An online course?”

Ava shakes her head. “It would be more personal if we met the clients face-to-face.”

Libby toggles her head and finger around at all of us. “Y’all are talking like we’re actually going to do this.”

JoJo challenges, “Why shouldn’t we? Who better to help men become book boyfriends than romance authors? We know all the tricks. And just think about how many women it would help. They could turn their man into their dream man with a little advice from four authors who know a thing or two about what women want.”

Libby considers it for a moment. “True. We all get tons of messages and reviews from readers saying they wish they could find a man like the ones in our books.”

I nod. “And though we write our men as uber attractive, I guarantee ninety percent of those women are more interested in how the book boyfriends act than their physical appearance.” I feel tears welling in my eyes as it becomes a bit more personal for me. “Every woman wants to be treated with the respect she deserves.”

Something Aiden never truly gave me. Libby knows this and offers me a hug before asking, “You really think we can do it?”

I swallow back my tears and smile. “Fuck yeah we can. I think it could be something really great. We all bring unique talents to the table. Lib, you can whip us up a website in minutes.” I look at Ava. “You’re a marketing genius. You and JoJo,” who’s in PR, “can get our business seen on every cell phone in this country. In the world!”

I see the corners of JoJo’s lips raise. “Gem, you can make sure everything is legal. This is fucking brilliant. I’m all in. Let’s do this.”

Ava blows out a breath. “Are you guys cool showing your faces?”

We all nod that we are.

“Good. Cause, TBH, we’re kinda hotties, and I think we should record a few videos about this new endeavor. We’ll spread them around on social media. I have a few tricks up my sleeve to get them seen right away. And JoJo makes amazing videos. We’ll both make a few.”

I mumble, “Then make my fucking books hit on TikTok, dammit.”

Ava giggles. “Not even Einstein could crack the BookTok code. But this? This is right in my wheelhouse. ”

We scramble for a long while, each working copiously on our respective roles. I look around at my friends and smile. They’re so into it.

At some point, we’re ready to go live. JoJo looks at Libby and nods her head. “Activate the website.”

Libby makes a slow show of pressing the button on her laptop.

We all immediately share our various creations across our social media accounts. I can’t believe we actually did this. “That may have been the most idiotic thing we’ve ever done.”

Libby scowls at me. “It was your idea.”

She does make a good point.

We continue to laugh about the advice we’d give men and drink until we can’t see straight. The last thing I remember before passing out is us all clinking glasses and yelling, “To the Book Boyfriend Builders!”