A place where people know your name, where they come in asking for recommendations and trust you enough to take them.
A place that’s mine because I built it with a little help from my Nana.
One order, one sale, one carefully balanced spreadsheet at a time.
Yeah, I’m a nerd.
A proud one.
Spreadsheets? Love them.
Organization? Thriving.
Reading? Obviously.
Turning all of that into a successful business?
That part still feels a little unreal.
I pause near the romance section—my bread and butter—and straighten a stack that absolutely does not need straightening.
This is where the magic happens.
Quiet book clubs, whispered recommendations, late-night just one more chapter addictions.
From cowboys to billionaires to monsters with impressive assets.
Hey, no judgment here.
I read them all.
As the self-appointed—and proudly elected—president of the Hammonton chapter of Book Boyfriends I’d Like to Fuck, that’s BBILF for short, I can confidently say this summer lineup is going to be a scorcher.
I’ve already got shipments coming in that would make any romance reader weak in the knees.
And if I play my cards right?
I might even land an author signing.
The thought makes me grin like an idiot.
Because even though my best friend Adrianna is currently off living her literal fairytale—with her rockstar husband, Nathan Thorn—yes, that Nathan Thorn—this right here?
This is mine.
My dream.
My version of a happily ever after.
I don’t need the sweeping romance.
The grand gestures.
The broody, tattooed guy showing up out of nowhere to flip my world upside down.
I mean, if one showed up tomorrow, I’m not saying I’d turn him down—but the likelihood?
Nil. Zilch. Zippo.