Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod. It’s … an interesting dream.
He sits up straight and chuckles. “I’m just kidding.”
I roll my eyes and smirk before sipping my coffee and returning my focus to the street.
“Thanks to successful parents,” he runs his hand through his hair, “I’ve had the luxury of exploring my options in life without feeling a financial burden. They’re waiting for me to sow my wild oats and return home to take over the family business. So this store adventure is nothing more than my love of T-shirts with crazy sayings. I have the rare and much-appreciated luxury of opening a business without worrying about its success.”
“I see. You’re just a spoiled rich kid.”
“Guilty.” He grins. “But the good kind. What about you? Are you a professional rock climber?”
“No. Not even close. I’m in charge of marketing. That’s my degree. I like it here, and it’s affordable city living. My parents live in West Des Moines, so I’m an Iowa girl.”
“Who loves reading?”
“Yes. Books are life,” I declare with a sharp nod.
“Books aren’t life. People use them to escape life, learn things that will help them achieve success, or find new ways to cope with life. Life is what happens outside the bound story. Life isn’t the letters on the page; it’s what inspires those words.”
Damn! A well-spoken, probably well-read man. I’m a little turned on. This crush I have on him is going to the next level. “See! If you could bring this level of insight to the book club, I wouldn’t have had to kick you out.” I laugh, giving his arm another playful nudge. Maybe I’m in heat. What else explains my need to rub up against him?
Eric angles his body toward mine. “I didn’t realize someone had officially removed me from the club.”
“Uh … yeah. You’re out.” I hide my grin behind my coffee cup.
“For being honest? Is honesty not the best policy?”
Staring out the window to keep him from seeing the pleasure I’m getting from our conversation—from him—I sigh. “Compassion should trump honesty when supposed honesty is an opinion and not a fact, like a doctor delivering a cancer diagnosis. They can infuse as much compassion as possible, but the truth will hurt, and it’s also necessary. Book club should not feel like a cancer diagnosis.”
“What happened to the art of debating a good book? Isn’t that part of the discussion?”
“Fine.” I set my cup aside and kick my leg over to straddle the display while I cross my arms. “Let’s discuss the things you said. It’s not repetitive and redundant. And it’s definitely not sophomoric.”
A growing smile takes over his face just before he throws his leg over the display to mirror me. “The dialogue is above average.” He reaches for my shirt, and I stiffen while he pulls a hair from it. “But the narration is clumsy and disconnected,” he says while releasing the hair to the floor.
“There’s a ton of description.”
He shakes his head. “Purple prose and too much showing instead of telling. The book could double in dialogue and cut out half of the filler shit, and it would be a better story.”
“Seriously? What makes you such an expert?”
That stupid smirk. Gah! I hate it and love it in equal parts. I love a good debate about anything except my favorite book.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I’ve just read many books.”
I blow out another breath, sending my sun-bleached, partially grown-out bangs away from my face.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.” He taps the toe of my sneaker with his before sipping his coffee.
I glare at him, unsure if I’m angry because he doesn’t like my book or because I’m attracted to him despite his terrible taste in books. “I’m not cute when I’m mad.”
“Fine. Let’s go with fuckable again. You look fuckable when you’re mad.”
I will not smile. Nope. There’s no way I’m taking the bait. He’s insulted my favorite book. And books are my friends, so I must defend my friend. “You’re crude and … and …” Dammit! I’ve got nothing! “A real chivalrous gentleman would have offered to pay for my coffee. And stop looking at me like that!” He’s snake-charming my nipples. This shit needs to stop. I’m losing my mind.
“You’re beautiful too.”
I roll my eyes. “I have to get to work,” I say, while grabbing my coffee and my last resolve before leaving.
Everyone crawls under my skin the rest of the day until I’m forced to apologize to my coworkers before leaving work. Freya greets me with a huge grin when I walk into our two-bedroom apartment, tossing my keys on the gray quartz island.
“Why the look?” I mumble.
She sets her phone on the sofa and sashays to the island's opposite end, eyeing me with a suspicious smirk the whole way. “Look what our new neighbor dropped off.”