Page 1 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

Prologue

GEMMA

I slowly peelmy eyes open and inwardly cheer that sunlight is not yet breaking through the tacky, floral hotel curtains. Phew, I don’t have to wake up just yet.

I try to move my arm, but my whole body is sore. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, I can’t drink quite like I used to. I hope my face isn’t puffy for today’s big event. Damn JoJo and her magical mango margaritas.

Despite the ache, the familiar sound of a toilet flushing forces me to roll over. In the darkness, I see Libby making her way out of the bathroom and crawling back into her bed. I grumble, “Fuck, Lib, you pee more often than my ninety-year-old grandfather used to.”

She sighs as her long blonde hair falls on the pillow. “Sometimes I wish I was a camel just so I could store it all to sleep through the night. It would be worth having a hairy hump.”

“You’d also have a thick, long tongue. I know plenty of men and women who would appreciate that, me included.”

She giggles. “You’re such a perv.”

I yawn and gingerly stretch my arms through asmile. “Proud of it. And who are you kidding? You’re a perv too. That’s what makes us good romance authors.”

Her hazel eyes sparkle, even in the darkness. “Hmm. Valid point.”

I pick up my phone, look at the time, and whine, “Ugh. It’s four in the morning. Do you realize there are crazy bitches who wake up at this hour to go workout? I won’t even get up to pee. I’d rather lay in pain for three more hours than move right now.”

She lets out a laugh. “That’s so true. Though I would argue that standing at a book signing for twelve hours in heels in an inadequately air-conditioned room is a workout. I certainly sweat like it’s one.”

I nod. “You’re not wrong. It’s a good thing we’ve got a big book signing today. I guess we’ll both look like Jane Fonda by dinnertime.”

“Isn’t it bizarre that she doesn’t age?”

I agree, “Best. Plastic. Surgeon. Ever.”

“Too bad she’s a communist. It kind of ruins it for me.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Meh. That was a long time ago.”

We hear JoJo’s voice from the other room. “Will you two shut the fuck up? Ava and I can’t sleep with you blabbering about camel-toed commies.”

We’re sharing a two-bedroom suite with our other author besties, Ava and JoJo.

I shout back. “Sorry. You two go back to cuddling in your bed. Just remember, eating a pussy is like being in the mafia. One slip of the tongue, and you’re in deep shit.”

Libby and I giggle. Somehow, we were assigned a suite where one bedroom has two queen-sized beds and one has a king. Libby and I won rock-paper-scissors, giving us the better bedroom.

Ava and JoJo both yell, “Fuck you,” at the same time.

Libby shakes her head. “You’re such an instigator.”

I shrug. “I’m nearly thirty. Love me or hate me, I’m not changing at this point.”

“Ilove you.”

I blow her a kiss. “Love you too, bestie.”

It’s silent for a moment before she whispers, “I hope I sell fifty books today. According to my financial spreadsheet, I need it to make this trip a success.”

I’m concerned for my friend. It isn’t the first time she’s mentioned money since we’ve been here. “Why? Is business not going well?”

She recently moved from Texas to Florida for her boyfriend, something I would never in a million years do, and is currently working for herself.

“It’s hard doing the freelance web design thing. No consistent paycheck.”

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