Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 28810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
My heart swelled at the sight of it, memories of summer nights with Jenny rushing back to me. We used to read these books beneath our pillow forts and dream about starting a babysitting club of our own.
As I was flipping through the pages, Veronica returned with a suited man at her side.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Connors.” He extended his hand. “I’m Mr. Tatum.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, sir.”
“Veronica here said you’re worried about falling asleep on the job?”
What? “No, I wasn’t saying that at all,” I said. “I was just trying to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”
“You’re not. So you can definitely start tonight?” He arched his brow.
“Yes…” I was more confused than ever.
“Perfect!” He clapped. “See you at eleven o’clock on the dot. Looking forward to having you on the night shift, Miss Connors.”
“Me too!” Veronica high-fived herself before handing me a folder. “Fill everything in there out and scan it back to me by four, okay?”
“Okay, um, wait,” I said. “What are the chances of Adrian Sinclair ever stopping by here?”
“Zero.” They laughed in unison.
“He just bought us out to be greedy.” She shrugged. “He just wants to own everything that has anything to do with books, you know?”
Unfortunately. I nodded.
They both disappeared before I could ask another question, and it took me fifteen minutes to realize they weren’t coming back.
I took the emergency stairwell out to the street and hoped like hell I'd finally found my answer.
Six months.
If I could survive six months of sleepless nights, I'd make enough to keep Slow Burn afloat, and no one would ever have to know just how far I'd fallen.
Especially not Mr. A.S.S…
THE CEO
ADRIAN
Summer Connors has been passionate about reading romance since she was twelve years old. Shortly after being accepted to Yale University to study business and creative writing, Summer began laying the foundation for what would become the love of her life—Slow Burn Books.
She hopes that you find a new book boyfriend every time you walk through the doors, and that you discover never-ending happily ever afters.
It was charming and her education was impressive, but I refused to admit that.
I read it again, searching for something objectionable.
There it was.
“What type of parents let their daughter read romance novels at twelve?” I asked Tyson. “Isn't that a little young?”
“Maybe they let her read the sweet, non-spicy versions, sir.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “My daughter is thirteen and she devours those.”
“I need you to be one hundred percent on my side about this,” I said. “We hate Summer Connors. We hate Slow Burn. We hate the silly little heart-shaped flames on the sign.”
“Her store is pretty cute on the inside.” He steered the car in front of my Brooklyn location. “My wife used to go there all the time when we lived in this neighborhood.”
“You know I have the power to fire you at any moment, right?”
“I do.” He smiled, shifting the gear into park. “But you’ve been threatening me for almost eight years now. I have more than enough saved up if you ever act on it.”
I blinked.
He stepped out of the car and held the back door open for me.
“Thank you, Tyson,” I said.
“Always, sir.” He nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave, or if you’d like me to have one of your personal cars delivered for solo driving.”
He returned to the driver’s seat, speeding away and leaving me in perfect view of the enemy.
From here, the soft pink and orange flames on Slow Burn's sign shone brightly, and I could almost—almost—see why it attracted romance readers.
The heart flames were still silly, though…
Turning around, I swiped my key against the security pad and stepped into a world of construction.
Despite the dust and unfinished walls, the floor-to-ceiling shelves were already standing tall. The curved staircase that would connect the first three floors was nearly finished, and the massive space I'd reserved for the book-stone waterfall was roped off for this week's delivery.
Even unfinished, it was already better than every bookstore within ten miles.
Especially the one across the street.
In the corner, the sign that was set to go up this week gave me a rush of nostalgia.
“Turning the Page in the Neighborhood Soon…
Welcome to Sinclair Street Books.”
I'd hung a cheap cardboard version of the same sign outside my first location years ago, and I never could've imagined this.
Ping! Ping! Ping!
I looked to my left and realized one of the elevators was already installed.
“Hmmm.” I walked over and hit the top-floor button, wanting to see the view.
“Hold on, hold on!” Mariah stuck her hand in the door, getting on with me. “I have something for you.”
“A positive quote?”
“You don’t deserve one today.” She handed me a tablet. “Here’s that thing you asked Benjamin to do. He got it done early.”
I squinted at the screen, seeing a still frame of me and a redhead who was dressed like Belle from Beauty & the Beast.