Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“You call him Dracula?” Her face scrunches up with a smile. “Right on.”
“If the glove fits... Anyway, I think Cromwell wants us to focus on TikTok and Reels first. How’s the video coming?”
“I’ll check with Dave before I dive back in and let you know.” She holds up her phone sheepishly. “I got a few good shots of some drinks.”
I grab it for a closer look and nod.
Her casual photo set shows off glistening amber and moody dark beers mingling with classy cocktails. It’s not half-bad.
“Pretty decent. We can definitely use these on the website and foodie posts for the ’gram.” I smile and pass her phone back, loving how her face glows red. “Realistically, we probably won’t get great pics until more customers start coming in and ordering to make the tavern look busy. I want to go for a travel slash food mashup.”
“Mashup?”
“They’re all over TikTok. Can I show you?”
She nods and slides her laptop closer.
I pull up my account and show her my favorite travel shorts. They’re under thirty seconds, brief scenes with simple transitions showing heavenly scenery and drool-worthy food set to punchy background music.
“See? The destinations are breathtaking, but the grub steals the show. Together, they make you want to hop on a plane and bring your appetite. That’s the vibe we need.”
“Good thinking!” Sarah looks up with bright eyes like it all clicks in her head.
I’m suddenly excited to turn her loose with a camera later.
Then I feel eyes on my back.
I’m almost certain I know who’s ruining the mood even before I turn.
Holding in a sigh, I glance over my shoulder.
Sure enough, Dracula sits at a table tucked in the back corner, scowly as ever with a gaze razoring through me.
He takes a slow pull off a dark beer and sets it down, his eyes unwavering.
God.
Did he have to practice the whole intimidation look or was he born with it?
Before I can turn my head and pretend to ignore him, he’s up and stalking toward me.
He stops beside me without saying a word.
It takes every ounce of willpower to flash him a cheery smile.
“Right on time to micromanage me?”
“I just came for a beer, Miss Landers. Sampling the food for myself seems like the best way to make sure this marketing lives up to its hype. Managing you is Dave’s job.”
“Really?” My eyes flick to the other side of the bar where Smokey Dave leans against the counter, pounding back a craft beer between loud laughs with a waitress. I smile up at Cromwell. “You might want to rethink that. His videos are awesome, but I’m not sure he’s manager material.”
Dracula follows my gaze, his brow pulling down in grudging agreement.
“Also, if the goods don’t live up to their hype, that’s not on me. I don’t make the beer or the corned beef-cheddar ale tots.”
“No argument here. You can retract your claws,” he growls.
He’s still on that kitten thing?
Sigh.
And when did it get so hard to peel my gaze off him? There’s just something about him looking down at me like Zeus with lightning in his eyes.
For the faintest second, I have a terrible image of being on my knees.
“What argument? That’s against the rules at Murphy’s,” a happy male voice says behind me.
My eyes finally snap past the vampire.
Oh, no.
Ace steps forward and not so subtly tries to crowd out Cromwell. I turn toward him with my face on fire.
“Oh, hi! I was just telling him I don’t make the beer. I just have to make it look pretty for the tourists...”
Oh God. Oh God.
Oh God.
Of all the things I thought I was ready for today, facing down two handsome, built men who make me feel things was not in the plans.
“I’m obviously missing something, but if you want to make beer, I can teach you. They’ve got two of the craft beers I brew with my brother on the regular menu here,” Ace says proudly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an irresistible smile.
He’s so warm.
Nothing like the tall, domineering prince of pure ice and arctic frowns next to him, staring with an impudent look that’s asking Ace why he’s daring to run his mouth.
“You brew beer?” I ask, ignoring the bossman.
Ace nods. “In a town this size, everyone and their cat brews. Anyway, just wanted to let you know your roofing fix should be on for tomorrow like we talked about.”
“Oh, thanks! I’m down with anything that stops a leak before it starts.”
Cromwell clears his throat loudly, shoving Ace over a step with his shoulder.
“Can’t you see you’re interrupting a media shoot? She’s on the clock,” he growls.
Why the fuck are you encouraging him? his eyes ask.
I laugh. “Oh, leave him alone. We’re going for candid shots with the locals, remember? Ace lives here.”
“Nothing about social media is candid, Miss Landers. Eighty percent of it is staged. We want carefully planned shots that look natural. You know that much.” There’s an edge in his tone that makes me bristle.