Page 12 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

“But she’s no fun. Not like you. She wouldn’t drink margaritas and had a fit when I wanted to eat off paper plates. Then she started whining about your books.”

I sigh. Mom doesn’t support my writing like Grammy Jane does. “It’s okay. Not everyone understands this passion. A lot of my close friends don’t get it either.”

“She hasn’t even read them all. She calls themsex books. I told her how wonderful your stories are, but she worries that you spend your evenings writing when you should be spending them out socializing. She’s very focused on you finding a man, as if it should be your sole focus in life.”

“Honestly, she’s not wrong about my lack of socializing. Since I started writing, I don’t go out as much as I used to.”

I make a quick mental note to go out a little more than I have been for the past six months.

“Your happiness matters. Anyone with half a brain can see that writing makes you happy. And when it comes to matters of the heart, you can’t force these things. The right person will come along at the right time. I think it’s wonderful that you create love stories and put yourself out there like that. It takes courage, and I’m proud of you.”

My heart fills with warmth for my number one fan. “Thank you. I appreciate your support. Honestly, Mom’s comments don’t bother me anymore. Some people support my writing and some don’t. I like having this separate identity. I love the bookish community.”

“I know you do. How was the signing? Were there any sexy cover models there?”

“It went well. It was good to see my author friends. I sold a bunch of books. And yes, there were a few cover models. One of my author friends has a crush on Riggs Romero. He’s a hottie.”

Grammy Jane moans. “Umm hmm. He’s finger-licking yummy. Did you bed any of them?”

I let out a laugh. “No, none of them are my type.”

“Your type might require a makeover.”

I think of my last two boyfriends. “Hmm. You’re not wrong.”

“Don’t let your mother tell you what kind of man to date. You need a man without a pole up his ass like that last guy. What was his name?”

“Aiden.”

“Yes, there’s no way he did it for you. And who was the snooze fest before him? The man you were seeing while you were in law school.”

“Sterling.”

“Oh god, yes. What a pretentious name. That sounds like someone your mother would date. You weren’t…yourself with those guys. They both tried to make you someone you’re not.”

Leave it to Granny Jane to hit the nail on the head.

She continues, “I want you to find a man who will give you laugh lines when you’re as old as me, is proud of you, who values your happiness, who always takes your breath away, and you equally take his breath away. A man who loves you exactly as you are. It wouldn’t hurt if he was good in the sack too. Find someone who checksallthe boxes. Don’teversettle for less.”

“Like you and Grampy?”

She smiles as if she’s remembering my grandfather who died nearly two decades ago. “Yes. When the right man comes along, you won’t be able to fathom life without him. I promise.”

“Let’s hope he exists.”

“He does. When will I see your gorgeous face in person?”

“I’ll be down to visit in a few weeks. I’m so excited to spend Christmas with you. It’s already cold in Philly. I can’t wait to hang by the pool with you and your ladies.”

“Oh yes. They’ve all got ideas for your next book.”

“I bet they do.” Every time I visit, her friends pitch me ideas. It’s like they get off on their stories possibly appearing in my books.

“I’ll fire up the margarita machine.”

“Perfect. And you’ll be nice to Mom, right?”

“As long as she’s nice to you.”

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