That kind of thing doesn’t happen to girls like me.
Not in real life.
I’m the nerdy, curvy girl who runs the bookstore. The one who reads about epic love stories instead of living them.
The one who knows better than to expect more.
And honestly?
I’m okay with that.
Mostly.
I reach for the light switch behind the counter and pause, taking one last look around my shop.
My space. My sanctuary. My dream.
Then I smile, flip the sign on the door to Closed, and turn off the lights.
Tonight I plan on going home, curling up with Ziggy, my orange tabby, while I wait for my weekly Chinese takeout order and sip my very hot mug of cinnamon tea.
Why? Because life is good and this is exactly what I want.
Of course, at this point, I am completely unaware that my quiet little world is about to get very, very loud.
Chapter One
David
The bass drops, and the crowd loses its damn mind.
Ten thousand bodies moving in unison.
Hands in the air.
Lights strobing white-hot against sweat-slick skin.
My name—Mars—flashing thirty feet high on LED screens like I’m some kind of god.
I lift my hand, and they follow.
I twist a knob and they scream.
I don’t even have to look at the board anymore.
My fingers know what to do before my brain catches up.
I built this set in a hotel room at three in the morning somewhere between Ibiza and L.A., and now it’s shaking the walls of a sold-out Vegas residency.
This is what I worked for.
This is what everyone wants.
My latest mix is sitting at number one.
Again.
A-list vocalists are calling my manager directly, asking for collabs.