Page 6 of The Good Girl

My mom used to love 80s music. I remember dancing around the kitchen with her and my sister with wooden spoons in our hands, using them as microphones as we sang along to Cyndi Lauper and Bonnie Tyler. I’m tempted to change thestation, but when “Papa Don’t Preach” comes on, I can’t help but belt out the lyrics with Madonna.

I slow down when I see the sign for Raven’s Nest and turn off the radio as a wave of nerves washes over me. I don’t know why—I’ve been here before, and everyone was friendly to me.

Still, I pull over and sit for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking in the rearview mirror. “Think of all the material you can get for your next book,” I tell myself, trying to calm my nerves.

To distract myself, I dig around in my bag and pull out my cell phone to let Amity know I’m just pulling in when I get a notification from SmutFest—the book signing event I told Amity about that tours around the UK. I frown, knowing I didn’t sign up for it, even though I would’ve loved to.

I open the email and start reading, my eyes widening until my eyebrows practically touch my hairline.

Dear Celeste Sky,

I hope this message finds you well. I am reaching out on behalf of SmutFest with an invitation that I hope you’ll consider.

Due to an unexpected scheduling conflict, a few of our originally planned authors can no longer attend our upcoming book signing event taking place in London next week. We asked our Facebook followers who they would most like to see instead,and your name came out on top. Given this response, we would be thrilled to invite you to the UK to be a signing author and guest speaker.

We would love to have you,butweunderstand that this is incredibly late notice. We would, however, be more than willing to cover flights, hotels, and any other related expenses if you’d be interested in joining us.

I shake my head in shock as I continue reading…

The event will provide an opportunity for you to meet your readers, sign copies of your book, and share your inspirations as an author.

Please let me know if this invitation fits with your schedule. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

Thank you for considering this opportunity on such short notice. I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,

Gemma Taylor-Smith

I sit there with my mouth hanging open for a moment before giddiness takes over, making me want to jump out of the car and do a little dance. I hold back, though; the MC probably has cameras out here.

I shove my phone back into my bag and drive carefully down the dirt road until I get to the gate, my excitement over the email overshadowing my nerves. I recognize the prospect at the gate from the last time I was here, but I can’t remember his name. He recognizes me too, nodding before opening the gate and waving me through. I park where G had me park before so I don’t block anyone’s way and turn off the engine.

I grab my bag and climb out, holding my skirt down so I don’t flash anyone. I close the door and slide my bag over my shoulder before turning to the prospect.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, darlin’,” he replies, his eyes taking me in from head to toe. “You trying to cause a riot?”

“Huh?”

“Doesn’t matter. Go on up. G and Amity are waiting for you.”

“Aye-aye, captain!” I salute him, making his lips twitch as I turn and make my way over to the giant warehouse filled with bikes. I pull the door open and step inside.

“Welcome to Harley Heaven,” I mutter to myself, jumping when I hear someone laugh.

“Harley Heaven, huh? I like it.” I turn, looking around until I spot the biker crouched near his bike.

“You must be Tinkerbell. I’m Capone,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag as he stands to his full height.

“Nice to meet you, Capone.” I give him a small wave before pointing to his bike. “Is your bike alright?”

“She is now.”

“She?”

“Esmeralda, my favorite girl,” he says, patting the bike's seat.

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