Page 16 of Savage Devotion
My dream, my heart. My reason for breathing. And the reason I haven’t slept in forever. The dark-haired, green-eyed beauty who left my bed months ago has moved into my little corner of the world. Why that is, I’ve yet to find out. I know the second I put eyes on her, I might do what I promised and take her home and tie her up. Now that I’ve taken over my father’s crew, I don't have much time for a love life.
I see movement through the window and my heart does exactly what I thought it would do when my eyes land on her.
6
ARABELLE
Harlon, Louisiana is the last place on Earth I ever thought I would find smut-loving readers like myself, but I’ve been proven wrong. This quiet, unsuspecting, small parish tucked away out of sight among vast expanses of trees and some surrounding marshlands thrives on the dirty stuff. When I arrived, I half thought I’d be run out of town.
I’m happy that hasn’t been the case yet.
I laugh softly. “You need any help?”
I hear a muffled laugh from a newly made friend before a stack of books is plopped down on the freshly polished wood countertop of my brand-new bookstore.
“No, honey. This is nothing. I’ll be right back. There’s more.”
My mouth gapes open a little considering there must be fifteen books in this pile.
“Damn. How many more can you read in a weekend?”
I watch as Charli disappears into the multiple rows of shelves probably to help her friend get the dirtiest ofmybooks.
Yep. Broken Chapter Asylum is one hundred percent all mine.
I smile fondly at the name, which is a little dark but no less true. It seemed perfect when Adora and I thought it up on our road trip south. We were both broken in our own ways and this bookstore was our new chapter. Something our addict mother could never sully and was all ours. But we didn’t always think like that. Growing up we saw her as our tree of life in our tiny little world. When my dad split and she met my stepdad, one by one her leaves fell off. She turned into a husk of a woman, ruined by the crimes of her new criminal husband. She became a dead tree, inside and out, by the time he went to prison the first time.
After that, I saw books as my escape, my shelter. My asylum.
And here it is in brick and mortar. A dream turned into reality and it belongs to me. Every dirty, smutty corner of it. No leeching stepdad nor an alcoholic mother here to ruin it for me. I only wish Adora could see it.
My heart hurts at the pain I hold inside toward and for my family, but the truth is a coldhearted bitch sometimes.
It took me a long time to realize I needed to go after my dreams if I wanted them to be more than just ideas.
And it’s just like I pictured. Non-fiction and horror dominate the far-left corner complete with a sitting area with lamps and free coffee. If you are a regular, you know I keep some bourbon on hand too.
Shelves of romantasy take up the front to center rows for those who like bite with their dirty sex scenes. And in the frontwindows, everyone walking down the street gets a nice eyeful of some collectible Edgar Allan Poe alongside some V. C. Andrews.
But the middle to back rows are where my heart lies in spicy romance—kinky reverse harems and mafia bad boy book boyfriends. Yes. Please! I have plenty of those from some of my favorite authors and others I can’t wait to try.
Much to the disdain of the local parish pastor, let me tell you.
A wolfish grin pulls over my lips at how many of those spicy tales his wife took home with her last Monday.
He can thank me later.
A tiny bell over the door jingles as the mailman wheels in a fresh load of boxes. I sign for them and start unpacking the first of about fifteen just as Charli pokes her dark head around the corner.
“Holy crap! Come to momma! Did my order just come in?”
Hopeful eyes swing to me, and I reach out to hug my friend. A couple of weeks back she came in with a list as long as my leg. I’m still in shock. Some women buy fancy coffee, but not Charli. At least for the time I’ve known her. I barely opened Broken Chapter Asylum before she was through the door telling me it was about time someone with good taste came to their small parish.
She’s been here almost every day since.
I laugh loving how excited she is over books. “I think so. Let’s see.”
Charli is a biker chick for decades through and through, sweet to a point, a bourbon lover, and someone you would never suspect of being a serial smut binge reader.
