Page 1 of Awakening Anna

Chapter One

“I likedit when he took her against the wall.”

No one in the book group batted an eye at this declaration made by their oldest member, Verna Wolinski, least of all the group moderator, Anna. As head librarian, avid romance reader, and moderator of the Happy Hearts Book Club, Anna did her best to get the group talking about strong female characters and relationship development, but in the end, the topic inevitably returned to sex.

Which Anna didn’t mind. Sex was great.

In books.

Romance novels were fantasy, after all. The heroine on the page was always naturally skilled in the bedroom and never received a single complaint. Whether against a wall, on her knees, or slicked up in the shower, she satisfied her hero and left him wanting more.

Not the case for Anna.

Nothing about sex came naturally for her. Instead of sexy and purring, Anna was awkward and silent. And based on her past encounters, men preferred the former over the latter.

To cut to the chase, she’d only had two boyfriends—but lots of complaints.

“If Fred were still alive,” Verna added with a smile, “I’d have tapped him on the shoulder and told him to pop one of those blue pills because it was going to be a good night.”

The circle of ladies nodded agreement, several with a giggle, while Anna sighed. Maybe there was a pill she could take. A sex-kitten pill would be nice.

“Thank you for sharing, Verna. That seems to be a popular one with the group. Does anyone else want to share their favorite reader moment?”

Betsy Langford raised her hand. The tiny woman with wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her button nose almost never spoke up during their meetings. Anna wasn’t even sure if she read the books, thinking maybe she attended only for the company.

“Yes, Betsy. What was your favorite?”

Blue eyes darted around the circle before the quiet woman said, “When he went. . .” she hesitated, sending another shy glance at the others, “down there.”

“I knew you had it in you, Bets,” said Verna, smacking her neighbor on the knee.

Betsy blushed, while Deloris said, “As soon as these six weeks are up, that’s the first thing I’m having Jimmy do.” The new mother patted her month-old baby on the back as she spoke. “We’ve never gone this long without sex. I’m about to crack.”

A quick calculation ran through Anna’s brain. She hadn’t had sex in. . . The number was too depressing to think about.

“Just remember to use protection,” Gina said, “or you’ll end up right back where you are now in no time.” The tall brunette had three children under the age of five at home. That made Gina an expert on the subject of contraception and, presumably, sex, too.

Just as the group nodded in unison again, the lights went out in the library.

“What in the world?” Anna said, rising from her chair. “Nobody move. It must be that darn fuse again.” Though it was late afternoon outside, their small meeting room lacked any windows, throwing them into pitch darkness.

The library fuse box was located in the back of the janitor’s closet, but finding it would require locating the small flashlight in her desk. To that end, Anna marched out of the tiny room and straight into the chest of a man. A very solid man who smelled like pine and something else Anna couldn’t quite place but was oddly familiar.

“Excuse me,” she gasped. Strong hands clamped around her upper arms, keeping her upright.

“Easy now,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but as soon as she heard his voice, Anna knew who he was.

Max Marshall, the hottest new hit in young adult literature, second only to John Green. His arrival in their small California town nearly six weeks ago had been the most exciting thing to happen in years. That he’d landed in the apartment above hers had certainly been a new twist for Anna.

As a librarian, she was fascinated by authors. She’d read Max’s two bestsellers and become an instant fan. Meeting him in person had only increased her fascination. He was, as her sister would say, sex on a stick.

Well over six feet tall, with thick hair the color of dark chocolate and eyes like brushed nickel, Max Marshall put most male models to shame. Strong jaw, patrician nose, and shoulders that made a woman’s mouth water combined into the perfect package of virile man.

“My fault,” she said, stepping back reluctantly as the urge to stay close nearly won out. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said with a deep chuckle. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

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