Book Boyfriendish

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“ T hey’ll see you now,” said the Naked Runway receptionist as she returned the receiver to the cradle, her sleek bob and perfectly arched brows giving her a polished edge. “Just knock on the door and then enter.”

Sophie E. Clark, who was on the verge of getting the last laugh, blew out a breath. “Thank you.” She stood and made her way across the hall to the conference room. With every step, sweet belly nerves tickled her stomach. “You can do this.” One more hurdle and all of those who had told her she’d never make a living as a professional daydreamer could kiss her ample derriere. The thought brought a smug smile to her lips.

Here she was, the girl voted most likely to never get her head out of a book, standing in the sleek, fashion-forward halls of Naked Runway , about to meet with the editors-in-chief, one for digital and one for print.

She tugged at the hem of her custom “Book Boyfriend Connoisseurs” tee—a vivid splash of personality against her chic black ensemble—and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she heard.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door and stepped inside with confidence buoyed by her passion. There were two women sitting at the conference table, both highly recognizable by anyone who’d bothered to do their homework.

While Sophie had expected to meet the digital editor-in-chief who had called her in for the interview, she had not expected to see the magazine’s owner present as well.

Unsure of the protocol on who to introduce herself to first, Sophie decided the owner trumped the other. She extended her hand to the older woman in the room. “Sophie E. Clark, at your service,” she declared, her insides fluttering with excitement.

“Ms. Birdie Fairway,” the owner said as she stood, holding out a hand. “But please, call me Ms. Birdie.”

“It is such an honor to meet you,” Sophie gushed. “I had no idea you’d be a part of this interview.” She reached out and shook the woman’s hand. “Your charity work in the city is simply phenomenal, especially your legendary bachelor auctions. For which I have a fabulous idea for you to consider.”

“Why, thank you, dear,” Ms. Birdie said, then waved at the other woman in the room. “This is Isabella P. Chance, Naked Runway’s Digital Editor-in-Chief.”

Sophie turned her attention to the woman who held her dreams in her hand. “I loved your designs back when you competed on Fashion Runway , and I never miss an episode of your podcast. Your coverage of the feud between the Rake of Manhattan and Dr. Stone kept me in stitches. It is an honor to be in your presence. I’m Sophie E. Clark.” Too late she remembered she’d already introduced herself.

“I love you already.” Isabella stood and shook Sophie’s hand.

“You do?” Sophie said, just as a bored-looking brunette entered the room on a cloud of perfume. “Why is that, exactly?”

“Because someone wise obviously taught you to include your middle initial when you introduce yourself,” Isabella said. “It increases people’s perceptions of your intellectual capacity, performance, and status.”

“Actually, Junie B. Jones was my favorite book when I was little, and I liked how she used her middle initial, so I adopted the habit as well,” Sophie admitted.

The newcomer to the interview looked Sophie over, shrugged, and said, “You must be Sophie. I’m Frankie Peterson.” She raised a rude eyebrow at Isabella. “I do not need a middle initial to be validated as important.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Peterson,” Sophie said, bobbing as if she’d just met a queen. “I’ve heard frightfully wonderful stories about you.”

“Heavy on the fright, I’m assuming,” Isabella said without a hint of humor in her voice.

Sophie was disconcerted by the dynamics playing out between the two. “Not at all—”

“If we’re quite finished with the pleasantries,” Frankie said, “could we get down to business? I have back-to-back meetings all day.” She took a seat, leaving Sophie the only one standing. “I’ve not had a chance to read over your pitch, but Isabella assures me it’s fabulous. Of course, her opinion seldom sways mine. So please, give me the condensed version of your idea for our column.”

Sophie squared her shoulders, her heart beating heavily with excitement as she looked each executive in the eye. “Thank you for having me,” she began. “As I said in the proposal I sent you, Manhattan isn’t just a backdrop for the most heart-fluttering romantic comedy movies and books. It’s also where fantasy meets reality on every corner, in every coffee shop, and in the unexpected encounters that feel like they’ve stepped straight out—”

“For the love of time, get to the point,” Frankie interrupted.

Sophie gulped. “ Find Your Book Boyfriend will be a monthly column dedicated to bringing the allure of rom-com boyfriends into the lives of our readers. This column will engage our audience in a quest to find real-life, Manhattan men who mirror our favorite fictional heroes.” Her smile widened as she envisioned the column coming to life. “Each edition will dive into the world of a different rom-com hero trope—be it the charming bookshop owner with a secret or the ambitious lawyer with a heart of gold. Within each column, I’ll tie in a popular rom-com novel that celebrates that hero trope. Then I’ll explore the city’s nooks and crannies, seeking out men who embody these qualities, and report back to our readers on my finds. Thus the title Find Your Book Boyfriend .”

Sophie paused. Frankie had said to make it short. But there was so much more to say. “We’ll invite Naked Runway readers to join the adventure through interactive challenges, themed events, and even nominations for their own real-life rom-com heroes. The column I’m proposing will connect, inspire, and maybe, just maybe, lead to real-world romances.”

Sophie took a breath before giving her closing line. “ Find Your Book Boyfriend will not only set trends but also celebrate the joy of romance in the real world, proving that the search for love—inspired by the characters from our beloved rom-coms—can be as thrilling as the novels themselves.”

She sat back, her pitch complete, hope building as she awaited the response from the three women.

Isabella squealed. “It was a fabulous idea when I read your letter of inquiry, and it’s even better in person. I can envision it now. We can interview your book boyfriend finds on our podcast.”

“I’m just not sure how we’re going to tie it into fashion. Sure, we went off-brand with our RAKEish column, but having a prince behind that column sold magazines. What is so special about you that will bring new subscribers to the table?” Frankie asked.

“I’m the president of the Manhattan chapter of the Book Boyfriend Connoisseurs,” Sophie offered.

Frankie rolled her eyes. “And that matters why?”

“Because they are a national club of romance readers with an impressive number of members,” Ms. Birdie said.

“And you’re the president of the Manhattan chapter?” Isabella asked Sophie.

Sophie grinned. “I am, and it’s a hoot. We get together once a week and rate the boyfriends from our latest read.”

“How many are in the Manhattan Book Boyfriend Connoisseurs?” Frankie asked, a glint of interest in her eyes.

“We have around ten thousand members. Over a thousand active ones, who show up for our meetings which requires us to have a multitude of meeting locations throughout Manhattan.”

“Hmm. It’s not a terrible idea,” Frankie said. “Ms. Birdie, what do you think?”

Ms. Birdie studied Sophie with kind eyes. “Your proposal had me at book boyfriend , but I do have a concern, which is why, after reading your inquiry, I decided to attend this interview today.”

“And what is that?” Sophie asked.

“Your safety. You propose to travel all around Manhattan, interviewing men as prospective living book boyfriends, and, well… That could be dangerous. Rom-com sounds benign, but some of their heroes have unsavory reputations…in the beginning. For instance, Lucian Rollins, the hero in the third book from Lucy Score’s Knockemout series.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped. Ms. Birdie read romances.

“I’ve read that book—fell in book-boyfriend lust with Lucian—and you have an excellent point,” Isabella said. “I hadn’t thought about Sophie’s pitch from that angle. It’s one thing to drool over a man like Lucian while reading a book, but interviewing a living, breathing duplicate of Lucian might not be safe.”

Sophie closed her mouth as her spirits plummeted. She’d thought for certain this was it. She’d get the gig and could finally stop worrying that everyone was right—that her daydreams were a waste of time.

“Ms. Birdie, are you vetoing her proposal?” Frankie asked in a neutral tone.

For three very long seconds, Ms. Birdie didn’t reply.

“Not at all,” the queen bee finally said. “But, as the owner of Naked Runway and the one who could be ultimately slapped with a lawsuit, should Sophie’s journey go awry, I feel the need to demand she hire a bodyguard.”

“A bodyguard?” Sophie couldn’t afford to hire a bodyguard, and if they deducted one from her paycheck, that would undo all her have-the-cake-and-eat-it-too plans. Plans that would allow her to live out her dreams and still manage to cover the cost of the rent hike on her grandfather’s apartment. A hike he couldn’t afford, thanks to Sophie’s last good-for-nothing rotten son-of-a-bitch boyfriend.

“Yes, dear,” Ms. Birdie replied.

“Surely, that’s not necessary,” Sophie replied, scrambling for a way to ensure it wasn’t. “I mean, I know a little jiu-jitsu, carry mace, and have a very healthy set of lungs in case a scream is required.”

“I can’t risk being sued because I deemed those adequate ways for a star columnist to protect herself,” Ms. Birdie said.

“I promise not to sue in case of a mishap,” Sophie said. Star columnist had a nice ring to it.

“Darling, don’t look so glum. It will be fine. We can start by hiring someone for a month. If, at the end of the month, the expert feels you’re not in need of protection, then I’ll reconsider my stance.”

“A month,” Sophie repeated. Maybe she could pick up some extra shifts at her current, non-daydreaming gig. “Do I get a say in who it is?”

“Do you know a bodyguard?” Isabella asked.

Sophie blushed. “Not an actual one…but I know a few bouncers who—”

“Nothing against bouncers, but I think we need someone with better credentials,” Isabella said. “And I have just the person in mind. He’s a former Navy SEAL who I’m pretty sure would be up for some light duty while he recovers from an injury. He’s part owner of a security firm.”

“He doesn’t sound that impressive at what he does if he’s been injured.” Frankie’s tone could have taught classes on how to kill with inflection.

Isabella didn’t die. Instead, she turned her back on Frankie and spoke to Ms. Birdie and Sophie. “Anyway, because of his injury, he hasn’t been cleared for the type of security situations they specialize in, but I think his doctor would give the go-ahead for being your bodyguard.”

“Excellent idea,” Ms. Birdie said, clapping her hands. “Which one of them was injured?”

“Stone,” Isabella said.

“How serendipitous,” Ms. Birdie said enigmatically, but didn’t expand.

“Ms. Peterson has a point,” Sophie said, darting a glance at Frankie. Her instincts told her she needed to get on the woman’s good side for her project to work. “If he’s injured, will he be all that helpful?”

“His injury is hardly an injury at all,” Isabella said. “Or at least that’s how I heard it described. For a few weeks, he’s supposed to wear a thick bandage on his middle finger, which impedes the speed with which his shooting finger can react.”

“What good is a bodyguard who can’t shoot?” Frankie asked. “Why don’t I—”

“Somehow, I don’t think he’ll have a need to shoot anyone while protecting Sophie,” Isabella said. “I envision him hanging around more as a scare tactic than anything else.”

“If he’s there to scare people,” Sophie said louder than she intended, “I won’t get any men to grant me an interview, let alone be willing to consent to be declared a book boyfriend twin.” A scary bodyguard was the last thing she wanted to have to deal with right now. “I really think we should pick someone less frightening. In fact, I have a colleague—”

“Nonsense,” Ms. Birdie said. “Stone’s a professional. I use him and his brothers for security at my social events. He’s perfectly capable of blending into the background.”

Sophie hated the idea. A guy like that would not understand the assignment. He’d be all condescending and irritated at her for…everything, probably even the lack of world peace. Much like her last boyfriend, who’d started out quirky and ended up deceptive.

“If we’re going to go down this rabbit hole, and I’m not convinced we should,” Frankie said, “the solution to Sophie’s worry is an easy fix. She and her bodyguard can adopt a fake relationship as a cover. That way, he won’t scare anyone off. They do things like this all the time in romantic comedies.”

“You read rom-coms?” Isabella asked, looking truly startled.

“Bite me,” Frankie snapped.

“What a lovely idea,” Ms. Birdie said, succinctly ending the exchange between the two editors. “Don’t you agree, Isabella?”

Sophie was too busy watching to see how Isabella would handle being told to bite the other editor to give much thought to the suggestion that she was to be a part of an honest-to-goodness fake dating trope.

“I do agree,” Isabella cast a wistful look toward Frankie. “Remember the time we watched Pretty Woman instead of studying for our college exams our senior year?”

Sophie’s gaze whipped to Frankie. Her mouth had pinched, and her nostrils were flared.

Now sounding vulnerable, Isabella continued, “It was right after we found out—”

“No one is interested in our time as college roommates,” Frankie shot back.

Sophie jerked her attention back to Isabella. She looked slightly sad.

The silence that ensued was finally broken by Ms. Birdie. “Frankie, once again you’ve come up with a brilliant idea.”

Frankie nodded.

The older woman gave Sophie an expectant smile. “Are you on board?”

Sophie had to flip back through the conversation to recall what they’d even been talking about. Oh yeah. That. “For a fake boyfriend?”

“Please say yes. It will be a rom-com come to life,” Isabella purred. “Not that the two of you will fall in love, just embrace the trope.”

“At the risk of you shutting down the whole pitch,” Sophie said, hesitantly, “I have to say I’m not sure my budget will cover the cost of hiring a bodyguard.” She absolutely knew it wouldn’t but if desperate times called for desperate measures, she’d sell her toenail clippings to freaks on the internet.

“Darling, Naked Runway will cover all your costs. Just keep your receipts,” Ms. Birdie said.

“Even cardboard cutouts of book boyfriends?” Sophie asked. “And matching themed T-shirts. And—”

“Anything that helps you with your project is approved,” Ms. Birdie replied, her eyes twinkling. “Tell me more about these shirts.”

“It’s one of my side hustles to pay the bills. I design and sell quirky, book-related merchandise on Etsy. It’s my way of putting to use my associate degree in merchandising,” Sophie said. Someday, she’d go back and get her bachelor’s degree, but that would have to wait until Poppie was more stable. “My T-shirts are my bestsellers.”

“How absolutely lovely,” Ms. Birdie said. “I do love a person with initiative.”

“How many side hustles do you have?” Frankie asked. “It was my understanding you’d be working for us full-time if we hire you.”

“Just a few. My Etsy shop, and dog walking for the elderly. And I run a monetized YouTube channel where I read Junie B. Jones stories to children at bedtime. And, once in a while, I’ll cover a shift at the local bar so my friend can stay home if her child is sick.”

“Good God,” Frankie snapped. “Are you even capable of staying on task? It sounds to me like your career life is a hot mess.”

“Leave her alone,” Ms. Birdie admonished. “I currently own over fifty businesses, and I manage just fine to be a professional. Sophie, the job is yours with the understanding that Naked Runway takes priority. If any of your side hustles get in the way, you’ll have to put them on hold.”

“Deal.” Sophie squealed. “I can’t believe this is all happening. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Ms. Birdie said. “Isabella, be a doll and find Sophie a fully equipped office she can work out of. Those cardboard cutouts she mentioned will need someplace to hang out. I don’t imagine your apartment is big enough to hold twelve extra people…real or not real.”

“Fabulous idea,” Isabella said with a smile. “There’s an empty office down the hall from mine. Sophie, did you have any other concerns, or are you on board with our bodyguard slash fake boyfriend plan?”

“Of course, I’m in,” Sophie replied. And she was. Sure, that part of the plan wasn’t something she wanted, but they’d given her so much more than she’d expected. Who was she to say no to their one condition? “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Probably nothing,” Ms. Birdie said.

Isabella chuckled.

“What’s so funny, dear?” Ms. Birdie asked her.

“I was just recalling some of the funny plot twists that have caused things to go wonky in the romantic comedies that this whole endeavor is being based around.”

“Oh my,” Ms. Birdie said.

“Not to worry,” Sophie jumped in before Naked Runway’s owner could change her mind. “I mean, really, how bad could a fake relationship plot twist be?” Unlike the real relationship plot twist she’d recently survived.

One time. One freaking time, Sophie had gone off-brand in her preferred boyfriend type of choice and had quickly regretted the decision.

Never again.