Page 122 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

I adjusted the collar of my blouse, took a deep breath, and turned away from the mirror. Carla popped her head into my room. “You’re going to be late to your own book launch.”

“What do you think?” I asked. “Scarf or no scarf?”

Carla surveyed me for a moment before pointing decisively. “No scarf. Keep it simple. Let them focus on the author, not the accessories.”

I nodded in agreement, dropping the scarf back onto my bed. Carla was right; today was about my work, my words. I took another deep breath and grabbed my purse.

“You look stunning, Kaira,” Carla said, leading the way out of my room. She had been an enormous support through everything, almost like a sister I never had. Like sisters, we squabbled. After nearly two months apart, we were back to being best friends.

The drive to the bookstore felt surreal. I was about to present the world a piece of me, hidden in pages disguised as fiction. Carla and I were let in through the back. The eager staff told us there was a nice crowd and she hoped my hand was ready to sign lots of books.

I stepped out into the store and walked to the area that had been set up for me. My name was written in bold blue font on the posters Carla and I had made. I couldn’t believe it was all happening.

The line at Barnes & Noble wasn’t endless, but it was steady. Every new face brought a fresh wave of excitement and gratitude. As I scribbled my name on yet another inside cover, I couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction of accomplishment wash over me. My debut book, a grumpy-sunshine, enemies-to-lovers romance, sat stacked in glossy towers around the table. Seeing my name printed across those covers still didn’t feel real.

Beside me, Carla was in her element. She gestured dramatically to the piles of books, her enthusiasm infectious—or intimidating, depending on who you asked.

“Christmas is coming, people!” she hollered at a group browsing the sci-fi section nearby. “Don’t you want to give the gift of romance? Don’t you want to be a hero to your book-loving friends? This is Kaira freaking Foster! You’ll regret not having this masterpiece on your coffee table!”

“Carla!” I choked out between laughter. “Relax! They’re here to shop, not be barked at!”

She turned to me, feigning shock. “Relax? Have you met me? I’m your number-one hype woman. It’s my job to make sure you sell out tonight.”

I shook my head, still laughing. Carla’s antics drew attention, sure, but it also made the whole event feel less overwhelming. I signed another book for a smiling woman who told me how much she loved the slow-burn tension between the characters. Her words stayed with me long after she walked away.

Carla leaned back in her chair and eyed the crowd like a hawk searching for its next prey. “That couple by the Christmas display,” she said, pointing subtly with her chin. “I’m going to get them over here.”

“Please don’t.” I tugged on her sleeve.

“Too late.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey! You two look like people who’d love a spicy love story to cozy up with.”

The couple froze, their expressions a mix of amusement and alarm.

“Carla!” I swatted at her, but she dodged effortlessly.

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Trust me, they’ll thank me later.”

Eventually, the couple did wander over, and to my surprise, they bought two copies. Carla made a show of claiming credit. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. Who needed a publicist and agent and a big PR team that one of the big publishing houses would have provided? I had Carla. She was my secret weapon. And this way, I got to keep most of the money from my sales.

As the signing wound down and the crowd thinned, Carla leaned back in her chair, arms crossed smugly. “I think that was a very successful day for the future queen of romance novels.”

I shook my head, but her words made my chest swell with pride. This past year had been the most challenging and rewarding of my life. I’d poured every ounce of myself into this book. It wasn’t the story I’d initially set out to write, but it was the story I needed to tell—the one about heartbreak, healing, and daring to love again. I told myself and the characters that had grown very quiet since the breakup with Roman that one day, I would tell their story. But not yet.

“You did it, Kaira,” Carla said, her voice softer now. “You really pulled yourself up by your bootstraps. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as you have this year. You’ve had the most successful year of your life, and you deserve every bit of it.”

Her words made my eyes sting. I smiled at her, my best friend who had stuck by me through every moment, good and bad. “Thanks, Carla. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, for starters, you wouldn’t have sold half as many books today,” she teased, but there was a glint of pride in her eyes. “Seriously, though. You’re incredible. And don’t you dare forget it.”

I glanced at the stacks of books, at the people still milling around with copies in their hands. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly proud of myself. I’d rebuilt my life, poured my soul into something meaningful, and it had paid off. But even as I basked in the glow of success, a quiet ache lingered in the back of my mind.

Carla must have noticed because she nudged me with her elbow. “What’s that look for?”

“What look?” I asked, feigning innocence.

She raised an eyebrow. “That wistful, staring-into-the-distance look. Come on, spill.”

I sighed, resting my chin in my hand. “I don’t know. It’s just… everything is great. My book is out, people seem to love it, I’m happy with where I am in life. But…”