Chapter 1
I must have checked myself in the mirror a hundred times to make sure I looked my best, but I didn’t. My make-up was on point, but the rest of me looked like I didn’t even try. I knew I should have bought new clothing for this big occasion, but my waitress wage didn’t allow me to do so, even though I was 24 and still living with my parents.
I was in a dingy hotel room in New York, pretending to be high-maintenance when I wasn’t. I’d spent my entire life in a small town outside of the major metropolis, living a boring life, and now I tried to break free from this shell that made me feel claustrophobic.
I was a short girl, barely 5′3 tall, with a curvaceous shape that made me self-conscious whenever I tried to play dress-up. My outfit for today was a departure from my typical look. Baggy clothing was my signature, and I wish I had brought them now.
The black jeans fit like a second skin over my large thighs, and I was concerned about how they emphasized my full behind. I was relieved that they were high-waisted jeans, which would at least keep my belly in place. I wasn’t particularly overweight, but I had a lot of meat on my bones, making it difficult to find acceptable clothing at times. With its white lace and low neckline, the crop top I was wearing was a tad provocative, but I liked how it showed off my ample breast.
My long and straight blonde hair was loose, falling down my shoulders and back into a golden waterfall. Gazing back at my face, I wondered if I had put on too much makeup. Maybe I over-went with the glittery smokey eyeshadow and the obvious lip gloss, but I wanted to look my best for this rare occasion.
What was the big deal about? The thing that had me on my toes was that a famous author would be doing a book signing event here in New York, the nearest city to my birthplace, and I didn’t want to miss out on seeing him.
I’ve submerged myself in books since I was a teenager, from gentle romance novels to spicy and forbidden ones that I’ve read behind closed doors in fear of what others may think of me if they saw my hands carrying such scandalous publications.
Out there were so many authors with incredible writing and topics, but one, in particular, caught my eye, and that’s Alexander Blackburn, or how he likes to sign his dedications in the book... Mr. BLACKBURN.
When it came to the private aspects of my life, I wasn’t a full nun. I’ve had lovers and had my fair share of experiences, but none of them were very satisfying. My previous relationships were all wonderful, but we didn’t have that connection, and it showed even in the bedroom. I recall suggesting spicy things and making the sex more intriguing, but they were all either too frightened or too basic to join me on this trip. The good news is that we terminated the relationship on good terms and remained friends.
The hard truth of this situation was that I always tried to see into my past boyfriends the image of my favorite author until I realized I had an undeniable attraction for him. How could I not? When he revealed himself, I couldn’t sleep for nights.
Alexander Blackburn was every young woman’s dream man, at least in my opinion. He was tall, reaching almost 6′4 with blonde hair in a modern undercut hairstyle and slicked back, plump pale pink lips which made me curious how they would feel like, sharp eyebrows, and a pair of cerulean eyes, so blue like the bright sky of the summer days. The ivory skin was flawless and when he revealed he had tattoos, I nearly squealed. He had only displayed the neck, hands, and forearms tattoos when he would have the cuffs of his dress shirts rolled up to his elbows. It made me wonder... Did he have more ink underneath his clothes? What other secrets did he have?
Unlike most renowned guys, he kept his personal life secret, which is perhaps what I admired about him. He was humble, chivalrous, and astute, and he always knew what to say. He had an enigma about him, and it’s no surprise that the media would leap at any opportunity to gain a glimpse from behind closed doors of him. Alexander Blackburn was a mystery. Many people wondered why he wasn’t flexing with fast vehicles, lavish vacations, and premium apparel labels while making gobs of money from his books. As I previously stated, he was humble, thus he was probably not the sort to float through this kind of luxurious existence.
In any case, his female readers coveted him, and I was no exception. It overjoyed me when the news broke that he was single. As amusing as that sounded, I fantasized about having a shot with him, but knowing the swarm of female fans hot on his tail, I doubted I stood a chance.
I adjusted the black coat over my shape and zipped up the black heeled boots before leaving the motel room, putting his last book into my handbag.
To get to the bookstore where the book signing event will take place, I had a long way, taking the subway, then a bus, and lastly a taxi. The subway had a 30 minutes delay, while the bus was stuck in the chaotic traffic of New York. I continued to tap my foot on the floor of the bus as the sound of honking cars filled my ears, and every minute I glanced at the clock on my phone. This didn’t go according to my plans. I would be late! And I don’t know how long the event will go on. The thought of not meeting Alexander had me almost into a panic attack until the bus began to move again. Sighing, I leaned my head back on the backrest of the seat, praying over and over for the vehicles in front of the bus to move more quickly.
When we arrived at the last station, I hurriedly hunted for an available cab and stepped in, giving the driver the location. I honestly had no idea how much time had elapsed since I left the motel, and the terror of looking at the clock grew.
Opening my purse, I took out my compact mirror and took a look at myself, making sure I wasn’t sweating and running my make-up. I was relieved to see that nothing got smudged. The last thing I needed was for my favorite author to see me look like a creepy clown. My pulse rate soared as the man drove around the corner and the street sign for the bookshop showed.
I couldn’t stop grinning like a child on Christmas morning as the bookshop came into view and the cluster of women outside had large grins on their faces. The taxi came to a stop, and I hurriedly paid the driver before exiting and sprinting across the street to the front door of the bookshop, only for my wide smile to evaporate and a heavy gray cloud to appear over my head. The ‘CLOSED’ sign gave me a bitter taste that was difficult to take, but I hoped that the event had not begun yet. I could only picture the truth as I looked over my shoulder at the happy women holding books.
My hands clenched the book tightly, and I found myself frozen on the spot in front of the closed bookstore until a woman’s voice broke my state of grief.
“Oh, you came here for the book signing event?” I turned around to face one of the women, considerably taller than me and with looks that outshone me from across the street. In her short red dress and glittering silver platform shoes, she exuded confidence. The perfect makeup, certainly applied by a professional artist, gave me the impression that I did a child’s job with mine.
“Uhhh... Yeah.” I replied, shuttering over my words, feeling nervous as I caught the attention of the other women around.
“Awww, I am sorry, honey... But the book signing it’s over. You should have woken up earlier.” Her tone of voice made me feel like I’d been stung by a terrible scorpion, and she seemed to enjoy my pain. I was at a loss for words, and I could feel my rage rising within me, but the last thing I wanted was to cause a commotion. I wanted to tell her I’d just arrived in New York this morning and hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but I doubted she cared about my explanations.
“Even if you would have come earlier, I highly doubt Mr. Blackburn would have time to sign your book considering how many people have been here, not to mention...” She looked me up and down, displaying a sign of disgust over her dolled-up features. “You don’t look presentable.”
My brows furrowed at the acidic comment. “Not presentable? What do you mean?”
“This was a unique event and you look like going on a basic coffee date. No offense, honey... but you are so out of Alexander’s range.” The bitter taste in my mouth amplified and my grip on the book tightened to the point my knuckles turned white.
“I mean, not to be rude, but...” She motioned to me with a wave of her hand. “Your small... and round.” I could feel them, the tears starting to build up in my throat, and I had to bite my tongue not to let out a whimper.
“Seriously now. Crop tops aren’t for the ones who have extra stuffing around them.” She had the nerve to poke my abdomen, and I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks in humiliation, and it turned worse when the giggles from the other ones filled my ears. I knew I was going to break down, and I felt it in my chest.
Turning on my heels, I was going to leave only to bump into one of the women, and the worse happened. Coffee spilled all over my chest, running down my torso. The white crop top was now ruined, and so was the book.
“Hey! Watch where you are going, idiot!” She snarked, ready to dig her viper fangs into my neck, acting like she had her clothes and book ruined. The giggles turned to waves of laughter and I couldn’t handle it anymore, taking off into a sprint down the street and away from the pack of piranhas with make-up and heels.
The humiliation caused me to cry, a flood of tears flowing down my cheeks and spoiling my make-up. I was a mess anyway. What did it matter if my make-up was ruined? All I wanted was to return home. I knew coming here was a mistake. I should have stayed in my tiny town and avoided situations like these.
Blinded by my long hair and the salty tears, I didn’t look where I was running, only to stop when I collided with a hard body, making me stumble back and fall backward on my behind. My eyes shut at the impact of the concrete. Great! Could this day get any worse? I was prepared for the person to insult me; call me a blind horse or something much worse, only for the opposite to happen.
“Are you alright, Miss?” The voice belonged to a man without a doubt, but the timber he had; husky with a certain deepness that send a spark down my spine, made me look up at him only for the shock to overwhelm me, and I nearly had a heart attack.
Right there in front of me was none other than Alexander Blackburn.
