Librarian & the Rockstar (Book of Love #5)

Chapter One

Loralei

"Put the penis back on the wall, Olive," Lilah says without even looking up from the register where she's seated, a pencil tucked behind her ear and a furrow between her brows. "It isn't a lightsaber."

Olive smirks, whipping it through the air exactly like, well, a lightsaber.

"I don't know," she says, her green eyes shining with humor.

"It could be. It even lights up like one.

Look." She presses a button on the side.

Only, I don't think it was the one she intended to press, because it vibrates so hard, she squeals, nearly dropping it.

I feel the air from Lilah's exasperated sigh all the way across the counter. "I'm going to murder Jazz for ordering that," she grumbles under her breath. "Literally no one asked for a vibrator that lights up, spins around, and will launch your uterus into the next century."

Sarah clamps a hand over her mouth, trying to choke off a laugh. When Lilah looks up at her, she loses the battle. "Sorry!" she squeaks before darting into the back room with a stack of books, still giggling.

"I heard that!" Jazz's shout floats from behind a shelf on the opposite side of the bookstore.

"You were supposed to hear that!" Lilah shouts back, a self-satisfied curve to her lips. "We're never selling your possessed vibrator."

"Lies!"

"Women want to get off, not get destroyed, Jazz."

"Speak for yourself, Lilah Davis!"

"Olive, tell her that she's delusional," Lilah demands.

"Leave me out of this," Olive mutters, still fighting with the vibrator. "I've read way too many kinky books to pick a side in this argument."

Lilah immediately glances at me for backup.

"No way am I getting involved," I say, covering my face with my hands, trying to contain my laughter.

Had anyone told me a year ago that I'd spend most of my free time in a spicy romance bookstore, listening to three of my best friends argue about vibrators, I would have laughed.

But that was before Lilah Davis and Jasmine Knudsen moved to town and turned this place into the Book of Love, the most popular bookstore in town.

People don't just come here for the books. They come for this—the camaraderie, the hilarity, and the absolutely unhinged conversations that are never in short supply when Jazz and Olive are involved.

Believe me, it's a lot less boring than the public library where I work. I wouldn't dream of openly discussing vibrators there. Here, there's a whole wall of them proudly displayed. No one even bats a lash, either. It's just part of the charm of this place.

I love it.

"You could just give it away," I suggest when I manage to compose myself, watching Olive fighting to turn the thing off.

She manages to cycle through four new settings instead, each one increasingly more violent than the last. Maybe Lilah is right.

That thing is possessed. There's no way anyone actually uses a vibrator that big or powerful…

right? You wouldn't be able to walk for days!

Lilah looks at me in horror. "I'd be run out of town if I tried to give it away, Loralei!"

"Make it a quirky pièce de résistance in a dark comedy book box," I say with a shrug. "Someone will find the humor in a giant, possessed vibrator in a box of dark comedies."

"That's…" She pauses and then blinks. "Actually, that's not a terrible idea. I think I know exactly what books to add…" She's already on her feet, hurrying across the store.

I just shake my head, watching her go.

"How the heck do you turn this thing off?" Olive grumbles, stabbing another button.

A loud clap of thunder shakes the building, rattling the large windowpanes all along the front of the store. Olive squeals again, her feet leaving the floor. The vibrator leaves her hands at the exact same moment, flying through the air.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz!

It lands on the floor a few feet away, still happily vibrating away.

"Jesus Christ," Olive whispers, her hand over her heart as she gapes at it. "I thought it shocked me."

I laugh so hard my stomach cramps. And then another loud clap of thunder rattles the windows. "Crap!" I jump to my feet, scooping my bag from the floor beside the stool. "I need to go. I'm supposed to take Mr. Johnson his books."

"Doesn't he live in the middle of nowhere?" Jazz asks, stepping out from behind a shelf with her arms loaded down with books, her nose scrunched.

"Tepusquet Canyon," I murmur, sliding the strap of my bag over my arm.

It's as close as you can get to the middle of nowhere in Santa Maria, but Mr. Johnson was gored by a bull last year and broke his spine.

He's been bedbound ever since. He was a regular at the library until his accident.

I try to take him new books every few weeks to help keep his spirits up.

Jazz glances toward the windows, her blue eyes narrowed in assessment. "You better hurry," she says. "That storm doesn't look like it came to play."

"I'll be fine," I promise, waving her off. Tepusquet Canyon is a good half an hour from town, with no cell service in places, but I've lived in Santa Maria my whole life. I know every nook, cranny, and backroad through ranch country.

Jazz just shrugs like it's my funeral. She's from Tennessee, home of tornadoes and weather hellbent on murdering everyone. It's not that bad here. "Don't die," she advises. "I still need your help hunting down River Jamison so he can speak at Dirty Book Club."

I laugh in response, heading for the door. "I'm not helping you stalk the man, Jazz."

"Yes, you are!" she shouts as I wrestle the door open, fighting a gust of wind.

My hair immediately whips into my face, blinding me. I battle it back, duck my head, and make a mad dash for my car. The storm is still a little ways off, but the scent of rain is strong in the air. So is that electrified tension—you know, the kind that says the storm is probably going to get ugly.

"Don't fail me now," I whisper, patting the dashboard of my ancient Civic before cranking the engine.

Truth is, I needed a new car two years ago, but I keep putting it off.

There are a million things I'd rather do than go car shopping.

Actually, I'd rather do basically anything than go car shopping.

I hate car shopping. It's far easier to drive mine until the wheels fall off…

which might actually happen if I don't stop stalling and get a new one soon.

Something important and more expensive than the car has been cracked for the last four months.

I plug my phone into the charger, latch my seatbelt, and then head out, smiling when Midnight Mayhem immediately begins blasting from the speakers. I've been listening to their last album on repeat ever since they announced that a new one will be coming later this year.

When I was younger, I used to swear I was going to marry Ash Kilborne, their lead singer, one day. The man has been gorgeous for as long as he's been famous. And I've been a sucker for his blue eyes and playful smirk for just as long.

He's still my fantasy, but I'm older and wise enough to know a fantasy is all he'll ever be at this point. I'm a twenty-seven-year-old nerdy librarian. He's a literal rock god with legions of fans. We are not the same. Hell, we've never been the same.

Even if we were in the same room, he wouldn't notice me.

He's used to being surrounded by beautiful people.

I'm not an ugly duckling, but I'm not a supermodel, either.

I'm just…normal. Quiet. Boring. The most interesting thing about me is the books on my shelves and the sheer number of movie quotes I've memorized.

He has Grammys, platinum albums, and magazine spreads.

I still dream about him sometimes, though. That secret will absolutely die with me. At this rate…I'm probably going to die alone, anyway. The only man in town even remotely interested in me is, well, old enough to be my grandfather, honestly.

Mr. Dennison is nice enough, but I'm just not into octogenarians. No, thank you.

But men like the naughty librarian fantasy. They aren't really into the reality when the reality is shy, plus-size, and relates to books more than people.

Most of the time, I can pretend it doesn't bother me that my dating life is non-existent.

But it's been harder to do lately. Lilah, Sarah, and Olive have all found love.

I'm ecstatic for them. I guess seeing them happy just reminds me how…

lonely my own life is sometimes. I wake up alone, go to sleep alone, live alone.

Maybe I need Jazz's possessed vibrator.

"Ha!" I mutter, taking the turn leading out of town. "A possessed vibrator and a trip to the ER is exactly what I need in my life, said no one ever."

I need something, though. Spice, variety…a single night to pretend I'm not just the boring town librarian. At this point, I'd take anything but another night of watching TV in my faded PJs until I fall asleep, as alone as ever.