Landsome Roads (Landsome Roads #1)

Chapter One The Phone Call of Doom

I tucked the book into my satchel, annoyed.

I didn’t take my first editions out of the house anymore. Too risky. I’d had more than one close call with white pages and a chai latte.

Then, at Christmas, my parents gifted me the newest edition of Landsome Roads, the one with promotional art for the TV series plastered across the cover. The book had likely been on the front table at Barnes & Noble when my parents did their gift shopping—easy for them to grab.

As much as I enjoyed—obsessed over—the show, I hated these editions. A still photo didn’t capture the grace of the storytelling, even one that showcased Ironclaw’s long black hair and silver daggers. Worse, the edition made it seem as if I had just glommed on to the series when it became popular.

I was, if nothing, a true fan.

Which was why I tucked the softcover book away with a sense of disloyalty when I saw Sara enter the cafeteria with Ahmad and Gemma.

The wide, bright lunchroom was on the first floor of our building, a common space shared with dozens of other midsize companies.

Floor-to-ceiling windows lit one wall and a mural spanned the other.

I had come to lunch early hoping to get a chapter in before my coworkers showed up.

There were handfuls of people across the lunch tables.

The backdrop of conversation became a hum as the cafeteria filled up while I read.

Book safely stowed, I sat back up at the round table, wall to my back, and took another bite of my PB&J sandwich.

I didn’t care for the sugar-free peanut butter my dad had switched to, but as I still lived with my parents and we swapped off grocery shopping, the healthy option won out more than I’d like.

I shifted my beeswax wrapper over as Sara and Gemma plopped their trays and water bottles down.

At the checkout line, Ahmad’s black hair appeared above the crowd—his hair was generally straight, but today it was gelled in the front for peak volume.

All four of us were in different departments, but we had been hired in the same month during a small company boom and had eaten lunch together ever since.

“Hi, Dottie,” Sara said as she slid into a chair, her shoulder-length brown hair swinging. “Cute sweater.”

“Hey, guys. Thanks.” The sweater in question was burgundy. “How was the marketing weekly?” I asked Sara.

“Good, I get to take a stab at the press release for the expansion of academic memberships.” Tempo was a software company for national membership-based groups like gyms, clubs, and professional associations.

It was different than a flat management software though, combining member management and social platforms to link individuals in daily interaction.

Or, as our CEO, Ed, called it, “a haven of community-based relationships in the time of doomscrolling.”

“Nice,” I congratulated her.

Gemma eyed my bag and asked, “What were you reading?”

I didn’t exactly go around town advertising I was a Landsome fan. Besides, while I read a lot of other romantic fantasy series, the only books I usually overlapped with people on were mega bestsellers.

I glanced at Sara before I spoke. It was her, she was the mainstream-YA-reader-turned-book-club-bestseller type.

“I’m rereading a fantasy series. Just starting book one.”

Gemma had just taken a drink but fluttered her hands, mouth still full.

She swallowed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, Dottie!

I was at my cousin’s house for family dinner and some of us cousins started watching this show.

It’d be totally up your alley. There was a huge castle and Christian Edmare plays this knight and it has that actress from Winding Hearts.

What’s the name? Ugh—” She wrinkled her nose.

“I asked the name twice because I wanted to tell you.”

I sighed. Well, if there was ever a time for a TV art book cover... I pulled the dog-eared novel from my bag.

Ironclaw’s visage had barely cleared the table when Gemma shrieked, “Yes!”

Sara’s eyes widened at the outburst.

I was actually flattered that Gemma had thought of me. She was tall, with a gorgeous Afro and silky lashes. She used some kind of magical grapefruit lip gloss that always smelled fresh. Her pajamas were probably cooler than I’d ever be.

“Christian Edmare was unbelievable in it,” she went on. “I guess the final season is filming now.”

Ahmad’s slender frame appeared and he set down his drink and tray, the nutty scent of corporate pad thai washing over me. “Are you talking about Landsome Roads? Someone was just telling me to watch that.”

“Dottie’s reading it,” Gemma said.

Maybe I was the judgy one for assuming I’d be thought a nerd if word got out that I was Landsome-obsessed.

The series started with the main character, Sir Ironclaw, searching for his sister, whose carriage had been overtaken by bandits two years previous.

The story built as he traveled the lands searching for her and soon he was entwined in the royal court as they battled the Dark Mage.

And occasionally had hot trysts with noblewomen across the queendom. It was adventure and romance.

“I’m rereading the series to get ready for the launch of season five, which will be the last one.

I love the first four books,” I gushed. “The fifth book is a big departure from the rest of the series so I’m curious how they’re going to adapt it.

A lot of readers are super critical about how the author, Sherry Whitehorse, ended things, but it’s still one of the biggest fantasy series right now. ”

I used the following pause to take a bite.

“I don’t really get stuff like that,” Sara said.

I blinked. She was the closest thing I had to a work best friend—which meant any best friend at all—and I had even geeked out to her a couple of times about Landsome Roads, trying to convince her to read it.

When she didn’t show interest, I’d dropped it, and that was when I had decided to be more careful telling people about what I read.

“Fantasy’s not for everyone,” I said lightly. I spun the silver ring on my finger, wishing we could change the subject.

Sara turned her hazel eyes on Ahmad and Gemma. “If they set those kinds of stories in the real world, it would at least make sense. All those names. Elzajabah of the Northwinds. Smarmite of the South!” she said dramatically. A little pink came into her pale cheeks.

Ahmad and Gemma smiled, but Gemma’s dimple didn’t appear. It wasn’t really that funny.

“It can take some getting used to.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I like nonfiction,” Ahmad said. I nodded along—anything to get the conversation moving. “I’d rather learn something while I read.”

“Most fantasy is smut these days anyway,” Sara said, pulling the conversation back.

Gemma’s mouth formed an O, as if she had just remembered something. “I couldn’t believe my cousin put Landsome Roads on with all our parents upstairs. I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, turn the volume down.’ I always forget we’re the adults now.” She laughed.

I licked peanut butter from the corner of my mouth.

“The book is really different. The show exaggerates a lot.” In truth, the TV show was quite a bit tamer than the book.

Still, there was a difference between seeing violence and sex played out with real actors than it was imagining it only as much as you liked—or more, as the case may be.

Lisbeth, someone I knew vaguely from Gemma’s department approached our table. “Gemma, sorry to interrupt, but the 3-D printer—”

That was all Gemma needed to hear about her baby. She was already moving toward the lunchroom exit, her berries and yogurt forgotten.

Ahmad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “She’s making more monitor mounts, and I want to see how she fixed the issue with the separated layers,” Ahmad said. He touched his styled hair to make sure it was still in place. “Be right back.”

Once the others were gone, the air staled. I didn’t understand the odd animosity from Sara unless she was worried about being lumped in with me, the nerd. The thought stung, but I tried to keep my face neutral so she didn’t see I was upset with her.

Sara pushed her light brown hair over her shoulder and picked up the conversation. “I’ve been trying to find some good, you know, literary books, but fantasy’s saturated everything.”

“You might like it if you gave it a chance,” I ventured casually. Fantasy could be literary. Really! People criticized the romance, but never talked about the decadent world-building or masterful plot twists.

Sara shrugged. “It’s just kind of silly to me.” She had the grace to sound apologetic. “Online you see all those people dressing up, pretending to be princesses and stuff, and it’s like, hello, you have two kids and a Roth IRA?”

I downed some of my water.

“They spend all this money on corsets and flower crowns. Seems like a racket to me.”

I knew there was a reason I never mentioned my knife collection to Sara.

“People just want to have fun,” I reasoned. “Escape a bit into a book or a show, that’s not so bad—”

Sara rolled her eyes. “It’s all people who can’t handle the real world. Never want to grow up. Just spend all their money on toys.” She watched as I tucked the book away for the second time and said quickly, “Not like you and me,” as if she only just realized I might not agree with her for once.

I wiped my fingers on a tiny cloth napkin and rolled it up with my sandwich wrappers. I should have smiled and shut up to not risk our friendship. Instead I said, “Well, maybe that is me. I want to have fun, not just run spreadsheets all day, waiting to be replaced by AI.”