Hating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

Prologue

JOJO

" W hat in god's name is that?" Libby asks as I stumble into her and Gemma's en suite still half-drunk from last night, unable to fall back asleep in my shared bed with Ava.

I look down at the bright orange construction vest and shrug. "You gave it to me. You went downstairs at about two in the morning to get a bag of Doritos, and you came back with that hat," I gesture to the monstrosity on her head, "and this vest." I may have drawn the short end of the stick when it came to rooms, but I'd rather be rocking this ridiculous YMCA vest than whatever dead bird she's trying to pass off as a hat.

"What the hell happened last night?" Gemma whispers as we all take inventory of our sorry states.

"We drank all the alcohol in Colorado," Ava moans, almost biting the dust as she enters the room, and we all break out in laughter. She flips us all the bird as I make my way to one of the beds, unable to stand upright a second longer.

They ramble on about shit I can't even remember. That's how you know it was a good time. I'm dressed like I had the time of my life and don't remember half of it until Libby says something that gets my wheels turning. "Umm, I think we started some kind of website. Like, a business or something?"

My eyes flash open as the hair-brained idea I helped concoct floods back in. "We did... The thing where we decided to help guys be more like the men in our books." I stare blankly at the wall as I try to remember what we called it. I think it was actually half-decent. "What did we name it?"

"The uhhh…" Gemma scratches the back of her neck. "Wasn't it The Man-Training Book Sluts?"

"That was Ava's suggestion, and we were so drunk, we actually considered it for a few minutes," Libby chimes in.

"I still think it's a solid business name. Very descriptive," Ava argues.

"Book Boyfriend Builders!" I announce a little louder than intended, and everyone, myself included, winces, our heads not ready for the noise. I lay back down as they start spitballing recourse. All of this is a moot issue. The idea was great when we were drunk. We're all starving artists, each praying for virality that never comes. The chances of our website getting one client overnight are slim. My phone pings with an alert, and I reluctantly lift my hundred-pound arm to check it. Every bone in my body hurts. As my eyes focus on the message, I say, "Crap," and I sit up once more to relay the bad news. "I hate to tell you this, but I just got an alert that the winter storm is moving in faster than anticipated. You ladies need to try and move your flights to today unless you want to be stuck here for a week."

They all start scrambling for their computers to change flights, and I hunt down Advil and water that I know we could all use. Luckily for me, I'm not leaving the state. I have no plane to catch. My brother Archer is picking me up tomorrow, and I'm going home to Pine Falls for the holidays.

I'm heading back toward mine and Ava's room to lie down when Libby says, "Y'all, I think you need to come and look at this."

I groan my annoyance. I just want to lay down, but I suck it up and join the girls across the room. As we all huddle around Libby's laptop, "Holy shit," falls breathlessly from my lips as we all shake our heads in awe. We have countless signups and thousands of dollars in deposits already received in retainer fees.

Libby's mouse hovers over the unpublish button on our website as Gemma says, "Liberty Hill, don't you dare fucking delete that website. We've got some book boyfriends to build."

Shit. I can't believe this is actually happening. My heart sinks into my stomach, not convinced that our half-baked idea is good, but before regret can settle another thought takes root. It's a paying job, and this girl has bills.

Looks like I'm building a book boyfriend.