Page 1 of Kissed By Her

Chapter One

“She’s here,”my best friend Joy whispered in my ear as I browsed the shelves of Mainely Books, my favorite place in the entire world.

Of course, she was.

No matter where I went, I couldn’t escape Honor Conroy. Not only was she invading the sanctity of my bookstore, she’d also invaded my workplace, as well.

“Do you want me to go drop a book on her head? Or maybe throw one of the fake spiders at her?” Joy asked.

“No, I don’t want you to get fired,” I said. Working as a bookseller was Joy’s full-time gig and I didn’t want her to jeopardize that.

“Kendra will think it’s funny,” Joy said, speaking of her boss, who was actually younger than me. She’d opened the bookstore early this year after getting a massive inheritance from her grandmother. Wish I’d had a rich grandmother.

“The best way to deal with Honor is to ignore her,” I said. Not easy to do.

The day we’d first met, we’d had an interaction that was…charged, for lack of a better word. Ever since then, she’d been under my skin. Things got worse when she had started chasing my boss, a divorced father of two who was rich as fuck. That had sunk her even lower in my opinion.

“If you say so,” Joy said, leaving me to go ring up a customer. I continued my exploration of the romance shelves, looking for something new. Joy always put things aside for me she knew I’d like, but I still found a gem on the shelves sometimes. I loved the thrill of the hunt for just the right book.

I skipped over the signed Skylar Alyssa sapphic romances because I’d already read the ones that were out. Twice. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers along the shelves and then stopped when it felt right.

Opening my eyes, I pulled the book down from the shelf. Well now. Judging from the cover, it was a romance between a human and a sexy alien woman. Score. This wasn’t one I’d read before. I hadn’t read a sci-fi book in a while and for some reason, this called to me. Holding the book to my chest, I skipped up to the counter and slapped it down so Joy could check me out.

“Interesting,” Joy said. “I haven’t read that one. You absolutely have to tell me how it is.”

“You know I will,” I said as Joy and I chatted while she finished the sale and added a bookmark and receipt to the inside cover of the book.

I felt someone standing behind me and I could feel the irritation radiating off them. Without even turning around, I knew who it was. I swore I could smell her expensive perfume. Or maybe it was her leather bag that cost more than my car. The special bag you had to make an appointment to even get into the store to look at. What utter bullshit.

Her impatience made me want to talk to Joy for a thousand years, like when someone honked at you to pull out of the parking spot.

Joy gave me a look finally and I turned around to stare into a pair of designer sunglasses. Her perfectly highlighted blonde hair was pulled back, showcasing her high cheekbones and plump lips. She might only be twenty-four, but I wondered if she’d had work done. Faces like that just didn’t happen in nature without a little help from science.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m in a hurry.” Her voice was ice cold.

“In a hurry to go sit by the pool in a bikini and hope that Mark notices you?” I asked, keeping my voice sickly sweet.

I couldn’t see her eyes, but I imagined that they narrowed behind her sunglasses. Her delicate nostrils flared, just the tiniest bit, which was the only outward sign that I had pushed her buttons.

Pushing Honor’s buttons was one of my favorite hobbies. Hey, there wasn’t a whole lot to do in Arrowbridge, Maine, that didn’t involve getting wasted with your friends for the millionth time or setting things on fire in an abandoned field.

Honor stood there, not saying a word. She knew by now that I disliked silence and would do almost anything to fill it.

She scored a point when I decided to bail first, saying goodbye to Joy over my shoulder.

“See you later, Honor,” I said, keeping my tone cheerful.

I watched her flinch and laughed as I pushed through the door of the bookshop.

* * *

Eleven-year-old girls arechildren who think they’re adults. The two I was in charge of were giving me a headache.

“What did your dad say?” I asked the girls standing in front of me. Their brown eyes blinked in unison.

“We haven’t asked him yet,” Riley said, twisting her fingers together. I’d been taking care of the girls since they were babies, so I could always tell them apart, even if they dressed identically, which they never did.

“What do you think he’s going to say?” I asked Zoey. Today she’d wanted to be different than Riley, so I’d braided her auburn hair back from her face and left Riley’s in a ponytail.

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