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CHAPTER ONE – SAYLOR
RULE ONE: YOU’RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO USE ONE EYE WHEN YOU WINK.
Let me tell you how freaking over love triangles I am: completely, utterly, so-fucking-over-it-I’m-never-reading-one-again.
At least that was what I told myself last week.
Do you know how long it lasted?
I don’t want to answer that, if I’m honest.
“Ugh! You dumb bitch!” I yelled at the book, my eyes still scanning the page in the desperate hope this was all a ploy, a bit like the time I watched the last Twilight movie in the cinema and that big war scene with Carlisle’s head happened.
Yeah.
Pinch a bitch, this had to be a dream.
I flipped the page.
This was not a dream. Not even close. This stupid idiot in the book was picking the wrong guy. I mean, sure, the other guy was a little bit of a bad boy and was kind of part of the mafia, but that was all the more reason to choose him!
Not that I was in the habit of dating someone in the mafia. No, thank you. Too much blood and blackmail and money laundering for my liking. But I’m just saying that if a hot, tattooed mafia leader was all over me calling me princesa, you bet your left tit I was going to choose him.
But no.
This bitch, Callie, was choosing Mr. Safe.
Literally Mr. Safe. He owned a bank.
I would put my life savings on the mafia dude having more money than this guy who seemed like a rip-off of the Rothschilds or something.
Don’t worry. It was fine. I didn’t have a lot of life savings. Any I did have were already in my share of Bookworm’s Books… And apparently a new line of travel mugs.
It was one I approved of. Everyone needed more mugs in their life.
Everyone especially needed a travel mug that said, ‘MY BOOKS ARE HOTTER THAN THIS COFFEE.’
I’d wanted to make one that said ‘I LIKE MY PORN ON THE PAGE,’ but Holley had vetoed it.
Kinsley had abstained from voting, so the idea was shelved.
Temporarily. I was going to find a way to make that happen. Even if I just made it for myself.
Personally, I thought it would be a great seller, but here we were.
I flipped the page of the book again. Yep. There it was. Callie had chosen the stupid banking dude who couldn’t find a g-spot to save his life.
Hey, those were her words, not mine. She’d literally said that in chapter six when she’d bonked him against the wall.
Who in their right mind would choose the guy who could get lost in a bread aisle? It didn’t bode well, if you asked me.
Unfortunately, nobody had asked me. Which was why I was so annoyed at this book.
“Oooh, you stupid bitch!” I hissed at the page, shaking the book. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you like this? Do you hate yourself? Why don’t you want to fuck the hot mafia guy forever?”
“I’m no woman, but I’d assume it’s because he’s in the bloody mafia, Saylor.”
I jerked my head up at the sound of my roommate’s voice. “When did you get here?”
Dylan raised his eyebrows. “Just in time to hear your little tirade at the people in your book. What did they do now? Did they have a little misunderstanding that could have easily been resolved if they’d just talked? Like when she saw the guy with a woman on the train who turned out to be his sister?”
“It’s a different book, actually,” I retorted. Smartass. “She chose the wrong guy.”
“So like what happened in three other books this week.”
“Look. It’s not my fault I like a bad boy.”
“As evidenced by your long string of completely successful relationships with men from the mafia.”
I closed the book and sat up straight. “Look, it’s not my fault I live in a place where the mafia aren’t.”
“I don’t know about that.” He kicked off his shoes and headed for the kitchen. “There’s a pretty serious betting ring at the senior center right now. Something about which duck Mabel is going to kill with her antics first. Even she’s trying to bet on it, but that’s rather a conflict of interest, isn’t it?”
