Page 1 of Protector Book Boyfriend

Prologue

Welcome to the Book Boyfriend Dating Agency

IN A WORLD WHERE REALITY often fails to live up to the fantasies we find between the pages of our favorite books, one company dared to ask: What if you could actually meet your dream book boyfriend?

Enter the Book Boyfriend Dating Agency, the brainchild of a group of hopeless romantics and tech geniuses who believed that everyone deserves a chance to live out their literary fantasies. With cutting edge technology and a vast database of eligible bachelors, the agency promises to match you with the book boyfriend of your dreams.

Imagine sipping coffee with Mr. Darcy, exploring the streets of Paris with a charming French aristocrat, or even spending an evening with a rugged, yet alluring mountain man. At the Book Boyfriend Dating Agency, the possibilities are endless.

But there’s a catch... The line between fiction and reality can blur when you least expect it.

So, if you’re ready to take a chance on love and embark on an adventure straight out of the pages of your favorite romance, look no further than the Book Boyfriend Dating Agency. Your dream date awaits.

Get ready to swoon, laugh, and maybe even find your own happily ever after. The Book Boyfriend Dating Agency is open for business, and your story is about to begin...

Chapter One

Asa

“PORSHA’S COMING HOME,” my mom says. I glance at her, amusement flickering in her dark brown eyes, her short graying bob tucked behind her ears as she stands in the middle of her and Dad’s backyard. Mom watches me, waiting for me to respond. Like suddenly, after eleven years, I’m gonna break and confess my undying love for our old neighbor and my brother, Dylan, and my “babysitter.” We were fourteen and twelve, so I don’t know how much babysitting Porsha did, but you get it.

I bend my knees, heaving a white painted wooden door over my shoulder, fighting to hold in my grin.

Truth be told—I’d heard the rumor of Porsha’s return to Trinity Falls weeks ago, but didn’t give it much weight. Rumors like that were common in small towns like this, and the servers working in my parent’s diner in downtown Trinity love to gossip. A fucking lot.

But, seeing as how this rumor has only grown more rampant over the last few weeks and the fact that my mother is now bringing it up, I believe it. Porsha is coming home. And I feel so many things about it.

As my dad rounds the corner of Mom’s freshly painted home away from home, away from home, I sit the door down, propping it against the frame. He hands me a cold beer while gripping another two between his rough knuckles.

“Where the hell is your brother?” he asks. I twist the cap off my bottle and down half of it in one swig.

“Beer run,” I say, sucking my teeth. The irony of it.

“My ass,” Dad grunts.

“Anyway,” mom chimes in as Dad turns and winks at her. She gives him a half-hearted yet playful grin. “As I was saying,” she continues. “Our little Porsha is headed back to our small town, pending her recent divorce.”

“Honey, how is any of this our business?” Dad chuckles. “I mean, Porsha was a wonderful young lady, but are we putting too much into this? Folks move back to their hometowns all the time.” Dad’s sitting on the front stoop of mom’s she-shed, leaning back on his forearms with two beers sitting next to him. He stares at his wife, the sun beaming hot and merciless against his naturally tanned skin as he wipes beads of sweat from his forehead. Mom crosses her arms over her chest, glancing at me before pinning my dad with a poignant stare.

“Porsha was there for our boys when we couldn’t be,” she says. “So, no—I’m not putting too much into her coming home. She’s important to our family.”

“And how do you know her coming back is a sure thing?” he asks.

She smiles coyly and Dad nods, an eyebrow raised as he cracks open his beer. “The diner,” Dad says easily before taking his first sip.

“You mean the rumor mill,” I say, sitting my empty bottle on the porch next to him.

“Lay off, you two,” Mom warns, pointing a finger between me and Dad. “That’s my diner—my rumor mill, and I will have no one talking crap about it.”

“Of course not. Talking crap about stuff’s reserved for your waitresses only,” I say.

“Asa...” she teases. I smirk.

“Sorry, Mom—what I meant to say was, yes ma’am.”

My parents, both hardworking entrepreneurs, have built a successful yet tiny little empire throughout southwest Texas and the Trinity Falls Community. Baxter’s Bistro has been owned and operated by my mother for twenty-one years, and it’s her pride and joy. Despite the long hours and physical demands, she still shows up at the ass-crack of dawn to run the restaurant herself. I can see her now, sitting inside her small office shed once it’s complete. A satisfied grin on her face as she reviews her staff’s schedule and plans for her next business takeover.

With Mom’s she-shed, Dad, Dylan, and I did all the heavy lifting, painting, and yard work to bring my mother’s vision to life. She had a clear idea of how she wanted everything to look - from the color of the paint to the furniture and fixtures. We followed Mom’s instructions without complaint (except for maybe Dylan and some occasional pushback from Dad), because we’re all a little afraid of her and know better than to go against the badass boss-lady known to our town as “Mama Baxter.”

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