Page 38 of Broken Road

Jace placed his board gently back into the bag, stood, placed his arm over Minty’s shoulders, and lay his cheek on top of her head. Minty closed her eyes. Her mouth tightened as her brow knit for just a moment. When Jace lifted his head, her smile was firmly back in place.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she replied to his unspoken thanks, and he loped to the games’ room.

“Thank you, Minty. Thank you for giving them you,” I said softly.

Minty raised startled eyes to meet mine, and she laughed her tinkling laugh. “Thank you for sharing your boy.”

Amber stood and finished laying out the evening’s treats on the coffee table. We settled on the couch. Soft music played in the background, serving to help drown out our conversation, which Alex usually had covered all on his own.

“I’m dying to know. Who’s my book boyfriend this week?” I asked, pulling out my Kindle.

When it was my turn to pick, I always went for the Alpha take-charge type, the ones Kristen Ashley so perfectly depicted. Amber usually picked something paranormal, it didn’t matter if they were vamps, werewolves, shifters, so long as there was a fated mate, she loved it. Seeing as it was Amber’s pick, I expected something from Rebecca Zanetti.

“Ah, Minty will love him. He’s dominant and...” Amber paused and wagged her eyebrows, “kinky.”

“Mm, sounds good. What book is it?” I asked.

“The Naughty Pine. The author is Indie, Sibylla Matilde.”

“Ooh, I’ve seen graphics for that one.”

“Mm-hmm. I picked it special for you two. Dominant for you, kinky for Mint. I’m warning you, his name is Jace, but I’ve read the first few chapters, and we’re just going to have to get past it.”

I laughed. Minty smiled her enigmatic smile and opened her kindle to download the latest book boyfriend, when Amber pulled three paperbacks out of her bag.

“Paperbacks for this one, ladies. It’s a keeper.”

We had certain criteria we covered in our reviews for @aphroditesharem, including steam and heat. We did not like closed doors. We assessed the likeability and believability of the characters, as well as the plot. We rated it overall for the feels factor, and we rated the Hero as a book boyfriend. AKA, whether we would want him in real life. We only posted books we rated a four or five. We considered ourselves to be book recommenders, rather than book reviewers.

“We should see if there are romance novels written by men. Straight men,” I defined.

“Why? And why straight men?” Amber plucked another olive off the platter and popped it into her mouth.

“Your insides must be pickled after all these years,” I teased.

“She does seem to have a bit of a fetish,” Minty agreed.

Amber defiantly popped another olive into her mouth and smiled cheekily in response.

I continued, “Wouldn’t you like to meet a man who understood what women wanted?”

“So, what? You’re just going to find men that write romance novels and scope them out?” Amber asked.

“I mean, I’ve heard of worse plans,” I laughed.

“Well, of course we all want a man who understands what we want,” Minty said. “But wouldn’t it be easier to first find a man you like, and then simply tell him what you want?”

Amber and I stared at Minty for a moment, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. I couldn’t even find a man I liked enough to ask, and Amber couldn’t even tell her own husband what she wanted from him. My crazy chortling set Amber off further, and it took a moment before she could speak coherently.

“I mean, said that way, it seems so simple, but it’s so hard to explain,” Amber began, her hands folded under her chin as she thought about it. “And some of the things I want are not things I should have to ask for. If I have to ask for it, it’s probably not going to be genuine. I mean, I’m not a writer, it’s difficult for me to express what I want, what I need. I think, for me, it’s knowing he wants me and only me no matter what happens. That there can be no substitute.”

I looked at Amber sharply, wondering if this was the key to her issue with Angus.

Minty nodded. “For me,” she began, “it’s the focus, in and out of bed. The attention the heroes lavish on the heroine, how they know them, can read them, how they are driven to give them what they want, what they need.”

“Being his first choice and his number one priority,” I added. The thought made me sad. I’d never been that to anyone. Certainly not Vander, and not Drew either.

“We should write our own romance novel,” I grumbled.

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