Page 1 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

Chapter 1

Georgia

Some people are extra with a capital E. Over the top. Flashy. Do the absolute most.

Hi. It’s me.

My best friend, Miles, however, is not extra. He’s subtle with a lowercase s.

“What do you think?” I nudge him with my elbow. We’ve been staring at Dogeared Bookshop’s front window for two whole minutes now, taking it in. Soaking it up. Reveling, if you will.

Or possibly hating it. He hasn’t given me an indication yet.

Three shallow shelves fill the lower half of the window, and I spent the morning putting all of our most fall-feeling books front and center. I strung ropes of fake leaves along the window border, scattered red and white felt mushrooms around the books, strategically placed real miniature pumpkins, and sprinkled in pinecones I collected throughout town. It’s a cornucopia of fall-themed goodness fit for a little woodland family of squirrels to make a home in.

“It’s autumn on steroids,” he finally says in his trademarked deadpan.

“So you love it?”

He turns to me and his mouth quirks into a smile. “I can smell the apple cider from here.”

I breathe a little easier. I’ve been told that I go overboard on occasion. Well…most occasions. I can’t remember him ever complaining, but I still like to have his approval. “You could have said that a minute and a half ago.”

“I needed to appreciate it first.”

I kind of like that about Miles. He doesn’t give knee-jerk praise or empty words. He takes his time to decide what he thinks and isn’t easily swayed by everyone else’s opinions.

Still. I didn’t want to stuff all of those fall decorations back into my car and come up with something less festive and more blah. Magnolia Ridge, Texas is big enough to have some nice variety downtown, but small enough to keep that cozy, everyone-knows-everyone feel. Most shops take holiday decorating seriously and go all-in with their windows, but there’s always an outlier that declines to join in the fun.

I refuse to let Dogeared go down the path of boring windows.

Miles leads us back into the bookshop, where the scent of coffee and brown sugar swirls through the air. Dogeared is one-third café and bakery, two-thirds bookstore. And I fully adore all the thirds of this little shop.

He brushes invisible crumbs from one of the café tables before moving behind the front counter. We’ve got a small glass display case full of pastries to round out our offerings, and although we don’t have much of a selection of food, it never goes to waste.

“I always love your windows,” he says. “You’ve got a real talent for them. Everyone walking by will be impressed.”

“Don’t just sweet talk me. Give me a raise already.”

“Done.”

Fun fact: MilesownsDogeared, but he’s never made it weird. After five years working together, our boss-employee dynamic has shifted into more of a co-parenting BFFs-type thing. The shop is our baby, and we spoil it rotten.

It’s stuffed with cozy reading chairs, quiet spots where visitors can play board games, and a bright eating area. Oh, and lots and lots of books. Curated, of course, but there’s a little bit of everything.

When I first moved back to my hometown after college, Dogeared was the only place I applied to work. It wasn’t much more than a few rows of books back then, but Miles and I transformed it into a place where people feel at home. More often than not, I do my freelance book cover design right here in one of the comfy chairs while Miles dreams up his next novel.

Oh, fun fact number two: he’s also a writer.

“You have a better eye for visuals than anyone. You’ve got…pizzazz.” He wiggles his fingers in a goofy attempt at jazz hands.

I snort. “I love everything about that exceptpizzazz.”

“You’re the most pizzazz-y person I know.”

While I like to wear the brightest colors thrift store aisles have to offer—case in point: the orange, red, and yellow-striped sweater I’ve got on now—Miles leans toward a more muted style. He tends to dress in sepia tones, like he’s stuck in an old-timey photograph. He makes it work, though.

Between his messy dark hair, clean-shaven face, and the subdued cardigans and sport coats he likes to wear, he’s got a real “Cute Adjunct Professor” vibe going on. Basically, he’s everything you could ever want in a bookstore owner.

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