Page 2 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

“At least you love it. So many people hate what they do. Hell, most lawyers hate their jobs. I’m the exception. I know I’m lucky that my boss is awesome and supportive of my writing side gig, but I wish being an author paid better so I could have more balance in my life. Maybe even find someone to share it with.”

She blows out a breath. “I guess writing is more of a labor of love for us.”

I nod. “It is. One day we’ll all be as big and awesome as TL Swan.”

“That’s the dream.”

“Speaking of which, we should get some more beauty sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“You’re right. Night, Gem.”

“Night, Lib.”

I waketo a sunlit room and the toilet flushing. I mumble, “Again, Lib?”

She shrugs. “Twenty-seven is the new eighty-seven.”

“I think it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“It’s time to get up anyway. Will you…umm…do my makeup today?”

My eyebrows must shoot into my hairline. Libby rarely cares about that kind of stuff. “I’d be happy to. Any particular reason?”

“You’re so good at it, and you’re always perfectly put together.” She wiggles her tall, skinny frame. “I need a little of that sassy, classy lady energy today.”

I smile in realization. “Ahh. I forgot that Riggs Romero will be appearing at our signing.”

Riggs is a famous romance novel cover model. Libby has had a crush on him for as long as I can remember.

She blushes.

I don’t want to embarrass her further. I’m happy she asked for my help. “I’d love to do your makeup.”

I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. She yells from the bedroom, “That buzzing noise better be an electric toothbrush, not a vibrator. You have forty color-coded bottles in there and I’m afraid to ask what half of them are. And straighten them up. You know I hate disorder.”

She’s a neat freak.

With a mouth full of toothpaste, I mumble, “It’s a toothbrush. I only use my vibrator in bed after you fall asleep—while I gaze at you.”

She starts laughing. “You’re such a degenerate.”

I smile. I adore Libby and treasure the once or twice a year we get to hang out together. With me living in Philadelphia and her now in Florida, we only see each other at book signings that we both attend.

After I finish in the bathroom, I start her makeup. Letting out a moan, I declare, “Your cheekbones are model-like. I barely need to use any blush.”

She bats her eyelashes. “That’s me. Famous supermodel. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.” She shimmies a bit. “Speaking of bringing boys to the yard, any worthwhile dates lately?”

I sigh. “Not really. I was on one last week where the guy talked about his car for sixty straight minutes. I couldn’t get a single word in. He didn’t ask me any questions about my life. Some guys are such boneheads. They don’t know how to behave on dates. They have no clue what women want.”

“Why didn’t you get up and leave?”

I’ve been known to do that if a date is going poorly. Why waste anyone’s time when you know nothing will progress?

I scrunch my nose. “Aiden was at the same restaurant.”

She nods in understanding. Aiden is my ex-boyfriend. We broke up about six months ago, and he loves parading his new assortment of women in front of me all the time.

“I didn’t want him to see me on a bad date, so I laughed and pretended to be interested in car mechanics. It might actually be the most boring topic on the planet. The more I laughed about things that weren’t funny, the more my date droned on and on about them.”

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