Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

Prologue - Libby

“ T his bra has got to go,” Ava proclaims before the door to the hotel suite we’re sharing has even shut behind us.

She does that magical bra-removal trick, pulling it through the sleeves of her emerald-green sweater and flinging it across the room.

“Ow!” JoJo yells, yanking the lacy black garment from her head where it landed. “I think you gave me a concussion with your boulder holder, woman.”

“Sorry,” she shoots back, shimmying her boobs. “The old bacon hangers need room to breathe.”

I choke on my own saliva, and Gemma smacks me on the back. “Jesus, Ava. You’re a romance author, and the best description you can come up with for your breasts is bacon hangers ?”

She giggles, her sapphire-blue eyes sparkling. “My grandma used to say that, and I always thought it was hilarious.”

Gemma tucks a lock of her dark-brown hair behind her ear and begins tapping in her notes app, something she does about a hundred times a day. “I like it. You care if I use that in my next book? I have a character that loves to say outlandish shit.”

“Be my guest,” Ava tells her, grabbing the handle of her cart. “Let’s put our stuff in our rooms and then order something to eat.”

“Yessss,” I agree, practically feral for some food at this point in the evening. “I didn’t think there was any way someone could screw up a turkey sandwich, but that hockey puck they served for lunch proved me wrong.”

“And all for the low, low price of forty-nine dollars!” JoJo replies with her trademark sarcasm.

“Other than the food, this was the best book signing event I’ve been to,” Gemma says.

“Yeah,” I say quietly as we head to the bedroom of our suite with our carts in tow.

“What’s wrong?” she demands as soon as we’re inside.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” Her pale green eyes narrow. “How many books did you sell?”

“Forty-nine,” I sigh.

“Ah. One short of your goal.”

She knows me so well. I’m very target-oriented, and when I don’t reach my goals, I get disappointed in myself.

“It’s fine. It was only one book. I probably expected too much of myself.”

Gemma marches over to my portable cart and rummages through the books I have left. “This one,” she announces, holding up my latest release, Rolling the Dice .

“Gem, you really don’t?—”

“Psssh. Stop talking. I buy every one of your paperbacks, just like you buy mine. Now sign it.”

“Bossy ass,” I say with all the affection in the world for my best friend, taking the purple Sharpie from her hand and signing Libby Cox on the title page. I notice Gemma stuff a twenty into my money pouch on top of the contents of my cart.

I hand the spicy romance novel over, and her beautiful face creases into a smile as she stares at the words. “Ahh, the fabulous Libby Cocks.”

My eyes roll to the top of my head. “Don’t think I don’t hear you pronouncing the cks, you perv. It’s Cox with an x .”

“You’ll always be Libby Cocks to me,” she informs me as she places the book neatly in her suitcase.

“Well, since cocks are your favorite thing, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” she agrees, stripping off her raspberry off-the-shoulder top and tossing it haphazardly onto the bed on her way to the bathroom. I immediately grab it and begin folding it precisely as she calls, “And stop folding my shit. It’s going in the laundry bag anyway.”

“Sorry,” I call back, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

Gemma pops her head around the doorframe and lifts a perfectly arched eyebrow. “We both know why you’re like this, Libs, and it’s okay. It’s the same reason you’re a spreadsheet whore.”

I giggle. “I thought I was the banter queen.” That’s the nickname she’d given me after reading my first book three years ago.

My friend retreats back into the bathroom. “You’re both.” I finish folding her shirt that doesn’t need to be folded before pulling my cozy ivory sweater and lounge pant outfit from the dresser drawer.

Gemma returns to the bedroom wearing a magenta satin pajama set with her initials monogrammed on the breast pocket, her hair up in an elegant bun. I shake my head.

“Why do you look like a supermodel in pj’s?”

“I like nice things,” she says, her eyes flicking to the shirt I’d folded before picking it up and tossing it unceremoniously into her laundry bag in the corner. “Now get dressed so we can eat.”

After pulling my long blonde hair up into a ponytail and donning my comfy clothes in the bathroom, I find Gemma unloading her cart and plopping the swag container and books in her spare suitcase.

“I’ll pack that properly for you tomorrow,” I say.

“I’m sure you will, doll. Let’s go.”

Ava and JoJo emerge from their room at the same time as us, and we move as a group into the living area. We’d booked a two-bedroom suite at the Colorado Springs Hotel and Convention Center for one of the biggest book signings in the romance world. We were completely exhausted.

“Chinese or pizza?” JoJo asks, sifting through the takeout menus on the dark wood desk as the rest of us sink onto the cushy furniture.

“Chinese,” we all call simultaneously.

After placing our orders on the online app, she heads to the kitchenette and returns with two bottles of white wine, a bottle of vodka, and four stemmed glasses on a tray.

“Let’s get our drink on, ladies.”

“I’ll have wine,” I announce.

“We’re all having wine… with a booster,” JoJo says, wiggling her eyebrows at me as she pours four glasses of wine and then adds a healthy shot of vodka on top.

“What the hell?” Ava asks. “Are you trying to kill us?” She twirls a lock of her reddish brown hair around one finger, her brow furrowing with concern.

“We need to relax,” JoJo replies with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

As we each lift our glasses of boosted wine to our lips, Ava yells, “Wait! All four of us haven’t been together for six months, so we have to do toasts.” She bites her bottom lip and thinks for a second. “Here’s to love, laughter, and happily ever after.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Gemma says. “How about this one? Here’s to staying positive and testing negative.”

I snort out a laugh as everyone looks to me. “Here's to women and horses... and the men who ride them.”

“Amen,” JoJo crows. Her lips curve into a smirk as she lifts her glass. “I would rather be with the people in this room than with the finest people I know.”

We all roar with laughter before taking our first of many drinks. “Holy hell, that’s strong,” Ava coughs.

“But it’s not half bad,” Gemma comments, “if you like drinking fruity kerosene.”

My throat burns, but I take another sip. “This’ll definitely put hair on your chest.”

Ava pulls the top of her pink floral sleep shirt away from her body and peers down into it. “Nope, no hair yet. Better drink a little more.”

JoJo and I share an amused look. Ava is a wine connoisseur and doesn’t drink hard liquor often. She’s probably already tipsy. This is going to be fun.

“I’m so glad we all decided to stay an extra day. That will give us time to unwind after an entire day of smiling and talking,” Gemma comments, curling her legs beneath her on the cushy taupe armchair. “And since JoJo lives in Colorado, she can take us sightseeing.”

“I can show you the bars where all the hot guys hang out,” our friend offers, checking something on her phone. “Uh-oh. It looks like there’s a storm moving in Monday afternoon. You’re all flying out that morning, right?”

We all nod before Ava meets my eyes and lifts an eyebrow, a silent gesture of encouragement—and maybe a tiny prod. Taking another fortifying gulp of my vodka wine, I blurt out, “Logan and I broke up two weeks ago.”

Gemma cranes her neck forward, green eyes wide, and JoJo’s mouth gapes open. Ava is the only one who doesn’t look surprised because I’d called her the day after the breakup. She’s the most empathetic person I know, and I’d needed that during my post-breakup pity party.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys yet, but I needed time to process.”

“What happened?” JoJo asks, topping off my glass with a little bit of wine and a whole lot of vodka.

“He said he didn’t, and I quote, see a future with me. ” The bitterness rang true in my tone.

“That fuckwad,” Gemma snaps. “You moved from Texas to Florida to be with him. He should have thought about the future before dragging you away from your home.”

“I didn’t have much left there anyway since my cousin, Gianna, moved to New York,” I reason lamely, and everyone’s faces soften with sympathy. “To be honest, it wasn’t that much of a surprise, and I’m more pissed than heartbroken. Does that make me sound bad?”

Gemma nudges me with her foot. “Not at all. You told me a few months ago that things had cooled off for you and prickface. You don’t need to be with someone that doesn’t know your worth and treat you accordingly, so maybe this is a positive thing.”

The other girls nod in agreement, and I fucking love these women.

I force a brightness into my tone. “Ya know, it’s cool. I’m moving to Port Saint Joe, which is a little over an hour away from Panama City Beach. It’s a small, cozy town, so I’m really excited. PCB is popular with the tourists and can get really crowded, so I’m looking forward to the slowed-down pace.”

“I know it sucks, but I’m happy you’ll be in a small town now,” Ava says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and squeezing.

Needing a change of subject, I ask, “So what’s up with you, A? You heard from your man-child ex-husband recently?”

She takes a long pull of her boosted wine and barely winces this time. “Ohhh, yes. Zach called me the other day because his electricity got turned off. He didn’t know how to pay his electric bill online, so I had to walk him through it.”

We all burst into laughter. Fucking Zach. He’s lovable but has never grown up, and I’m glad Ava is no longer responsible for raising him—I mean isn’t married to him anymore.

A knock sounds at the door, and JoJo rises to answer it. “That must be the food.”

For the next thirty minutes we eat, drink, and laugh. It’s so good to be back with my girls again. We’d met in an author group on Facebook a few years ago and instantly hit it off. Though we only see each other in person a couple times a year, we text every day and talk often.

Gemma claims that if anyone ever got hold of our text threads, we’d either be arrested or declared clinically insane, and she’s probably right. It gets pretty crazy sometimes when four romance authors enter brainstorming mode.

After we clear our food away, I wash my hands, feeling the roughness of my skin beneath the foamy soap. “Anyone have lotion? The dry Colorado air is wreaking havoc on my skin.”

“I have some in our bathroom,” Gemma says, storing the leftovers in the fridge. “It’s in the hot-pink tube.”

Heading into the bathroom, I pick up a pink tube and carry it back into the living room, squirting a healthy dollop onto my palm.

“What kind of lotion is this, Gem? It’s really sticky,” I call out, settling onto the couch as I spread the goop between my fingers and up onto my forearms.

She walks in from the kitchenette and stares at the lotion I’d placed on the coffee table. Her eyes flick to my hands, which are covered in the thick, clear substance, and back to the tube.

“I said the hot-pink tube. That one is fuchsia .”

Lord, I hope I didn’t use one of her very expensive hair products. “Oh crap, sorry. Is this your hair gel or something?”

She picks up the fuchsia container and holds it a couple inches from my face. I read the words.

Loob in a Toob.

“Oh my gawd!” I yell, jumping up and holding my arms out to the side like they’re covered in a hazardous material. “I just rubbed your pussy lube all over me!”

Everyone else is in hysterics. JoJo has fallen onto the floor and is holding her stomach, and Ava has tears streaming down her pretty face as I flail my goo-covered hands around wildly.

My eyes widen as a thought occurs to me. “Please tell me it’s not your butt lube. For the love of all that’s good and holy, please , Gemma!”

She’s not even trying to hide her laughter as she shakes her head. “No, this is the front door one. The back door stuff is in a coral tube.”

“Coral! Fuchsia! Pink!” I holler. “Why are they all so close? Haven’t these people ever heard of blue? Or yellow? Fuck!”

I sprint to the kitchen, hearing the hilarity continue behind me as I turn on the hot water. After scrubbing my hands and arms until they’re red and raw, I stomp back into the living area to find my crazy friends still chuckling.

“This. Never. Happened,” I demand, pointing a stern finger at each of them.

Everyone is silent for a few beats before Gemma pipes up with, “But we’ve shared something special here tonight. I feel so close to you right now, Libs.”

JoJo covers her mouth and then snorts behind her hand. “Yeah, I think you two may actually be married in some third-world countries.”

I scowl, and Ava pats my arm. “Don’t be mad. We’re just teasing you.” And then under her breath mumbles, “Lubey Libby.”

“Ha ha, fuckers,” I say, a giggle bubbling up from my throat. There’s always extreme ridiculousness when we get together.

JoJo refills our glasses once more, and her pour is becoming increasingly heavy on the vodka.

She lifts her glass again. “Here’s to alcohol, which makes us see double and feel single.”

Ava giggles as we drink. “We are all single now.”

My nose scrunches up. “I’m not sure how I feel about getting back into the dating scene.”

JoJo leans her head against the back of her chair and stares at the ceiling. “It’s horrible. Men are intolerable. I suggest you forget about dating and orbit your own Venus, if you know what I mean. Stock up on vibrators. You can borrow some lube from Gemma.”

I take a healthy swallow of the vodka with a splash of wine, my limbs feeling loose and soft. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No, Lubey Libby. We’re not,” Gemma replies. “And back to the subject at hand, JoJo is right. Dating sucks. Why can’t we find men like the ones we write about in our books?”

“Fuck if I know,” JoJo wails. “Is it too much to ask to have a man with a big, hard body, some well-placed tats, and a mouth that would make a hooker blush?”

“One with an actual job and a maturity level that’s a few notches higher than a prepubescent chimpanzee,” Ava adds.

“Someone who is honest and loyal ,” I mutter, thinking of Logan.

Gemma rings her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “There needs to be some kind of boot camp for guys where they’re trained to be book boyfriends.”

Everyone giggles at the thought, and I stand, my back ramrod straight as I take on the demeanor of a drill sergeant. Picking up a forgotten chopstick from the coffee table, I march behind the couch and tap JoJo on the top of the head.

“You! Lean against that door frame and look longingly at me. And make it sexy!”

She grins as she hops up and hurries over to the door of the small kitchen, lifting her arms over her head to grasp the top of the entrance. Her eyelids drop, and she licks her lips and flashes me a sultry look.

“Excellent, recruit. I can tell you’ve been practicing that.” I point my chopstick at Ava. “You, there! Tell me I’m a good girl.”

She fights a smile and says, “You’re such a good girl, Libby.”

“No, no, no!” I bark. “That was weak, Costa! You have to growwwwl! Make me feel it!”

When she starts laughing, I give her my best glare, hands on hips until she schools her expression. With her voice as low as she can make it, she growls, “You are such a good… fucking… girl, Libby.”

“By damn,” I drawl, “that was pretty impressive, Costa. You almost made my panties wet.”

She splutters out a laugh, and I whirl around to Gemma, brandishing my stick. “Fairchild, give me a pet name. Now!”

“Ahhh, la mia piccola tigre,” she purrs before translating. “That’s my little tiger in Italian.”

I give a curt nod, keeping in character. “I like it. Bonus points for using a foreign language. I’d totally fuck you at this point.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip to keep from laughing as I stroll back over to JoJo and demand, “Estes, what’s my coffee order?”

“Macchiato with one cream and two-and-a-half sugars, ma’am.”

“Favorite flower?” I ask Ava.

“Anything yellow,” she replies, bobbing her eyebrows at me.

“Uh-huh.”

I stomp around the room and manage to stay in character the entire time while barking out more and more outlandish commands, and my crazy friends play along.

Then I approach Ava and poke her in the chest with my weapon. “Say something inspiring, Costa.”

And then Ava—dear, sweet, shy Ava—wraps her small, pale hand around my throat and squeezes slightly before growling, “You are mine, Libby, and if anyone lays a finger on you, I’ll paint the earth with their blood.” My eyes almost bug out of my head in surprise as her blue ones darken. “Am I understood?”

I’m unable to speak for several long seconds before I croak out, “Well. I suppose that’s acceptable.”

“Christ, Ava,” Gemma says from behind me. “I think I just had a spontaneous orgasm. Who knew you had that in you?”

Our friend releases my throat and brushes non-existent lint from her shoulder as she smirks. “Maybe I’m not as sweet as you all think I am.”

JoJo skips over and tugs Ava’s dark ponytail. “I think we’ve learned a lot here tonight. Ava is a secret domme, and Libby would be a superb man trainer.”

We all laugh and plop back down onto our respective seats for more drinks. The bottle of vodka is emptied, and words begin to slur over the next hour.

“I got to meet Riggs Romero today,” JoJo announces. “He’s even more impressive in person.” A ping of jealousy shoots down my spine.

“Oh, that book cover model? He’s soooo hot,” Ava agrees.

“Libs has a huge crush on him,” Gemma adds. “Look, she’s blushing just thinking about him.”

My face is indeed heated, but I demur. “It’s just the alcohol.”

“Whatever. Your eyes were like saucers today when he was walking around in our area.”

“He’s nice to look at,” I allow, and Gemma lifts an unimpressed eyebrow at me. “Okay, fine. I want to lick every book cover that man graces. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” she replies smugly. “I was watching him, and he was definitely eyeballing you today.”

“He was not!” Has someone turned on the heater in here?

“Was too. I think he was headed to your table next when the director pulled him away for that industry panel. Otherwise, he would have hopped on the Libby Cocks train.”

“Mmmm, a train. Can you just imagine a whole line of Riggs Romeros waiting to take their turn with you?” JoJo mused.

I squeeze my thighs together and squirm in my seat on the couch. Gemma’s correct. I have a huge crush on a man I’ve never met in person.

Riggs was the muse for every single male main character I’d ever written. Even the ones that didn’t have jet-black hair and sexy tattoos had some piece of the stunning man in them. His ice-blue eyes. His sharp, square jawline. His chiseled abs. His parts I could only dream about…

Luckily, my condition goes unnoticed by my best friends as JoJo brings up the subject of book sales.

“My sales have been in the tank the past month,” she laments. “I’ve been busy writing and preparing for this book signing, and I haven’t had much time to market on social media.”

“It’s hard to keep up with everything,” Ava agrees.

“Mine have picked up, but they always do around release time. It’s helped a lot since I’ll have moving expenses now.”

“Still no luck finding a job?” JoJo asks, tilting her head so her blonde hair falls over one shoulder.

“Not since leaving Texas. I’m doing some freelance web designing, but no one wants to hire a full-time designer. Apparently, twenty-seven is ancient in my industry. But added to my book sales, the jobs I have picked up are enough to pay my rent and utilities. Luckily I already had this trip paid for.”

We continue drinking as we talk about our respective book sales, and I’m pretty sure I’m completely drunk. My fingers and toes have gone numb, and my words come slower and with more effort. I become aware that Gemma has been silent for quite a while.

“Gem, you’re quiet. Everything okay?”

“Ya know, it’s not that bad of an idea.”

I exchange amused glances with JoJo and Ava. We’re used to this. Gemma often has entire conversations going on inside her head and forgets that the rest of us are not privy to what she’s thinking.

“What’s not a bad idea?”

She refills her glass from the new bottle of vodka JoJo produced from seemingly out of nowhere. After taking a long slug, she taps a perfectly manicured finger against her full lips, her eyes thoughtful.

“Training men to become book boyfriends.”

JoJo’s eyebrows lift to her hairline. “Well, yeah. That would be nice. Someone needs to do something with the current dating pool. It’s abysmal.”

Gemma’s eyes meet each of ours. “Just hear me out. What if we started a business to do that?”

Ava giggles. “You want to turn Drill Sergeant Libby loose on the men of America?” Her eyes widen in excitement. “Ooh! Can we get her a whip?”

We all laugh at that. Except for Gemma. I can practically see her mind spinning as her teeth work back and forth against her bottom lip.

“Maybe not boot camp style—though I would love to see Libs wield a whip on some clueless sap—but why couldn’t we be consultants? We write the kind of men that women want, so why couldn’t we be hired to… educate guys?”

My pink lips twist to the side as I sit there stunned at what our friend is proposing. “But then some poor girl gets stuck with a man who’s just pretending.”

Gemma shakes her head back and forth, her bun bobbing from side to side. “No, not like that. We’d want them to be their authentic selves but just a better version. Teach them how to be more thoughtful.” Her finger wags back and forth between me and JoJo. “Like when Libby asked you for her coffee order earlier. You knew the answer immediately. I dated Aiden for years, and he was still clueless about my favorite coffee. And I order the same damn thing every time.”

“Sooo you want to help men learn their woman’s coffee orders?” I ask, skepticism coloring my tone.

“Among other things. I think there are a lot of good men out there, but some are clueless about a lot of things. They just need to pay attention to their woman’s needs. We could give them the tools they need to do that. To read verbal and non-verbal clues.”

JoJo’s dark-green eyes brighten. “You know, that might actually work. It’s definitely an untapped market with lots of potential.”

“I have a friend who reads my books with her boyfriend,” Ava tells us. “She said their relationship has really improved a lot since they started, and not just in the bedroom. She thinks it inspired him or something.”

I mull that over in my fuzzy brain. “So we could sell our books as instructional manuals? If we marketed to men as well as women, that might boost sales.” And the extra money couldn’t hurt.

Gemma’s shrewd gaze meets mine. “Not exactly what I was thinking. We should provide an actual service to clients who are interested.”

“And charge people for it?” I ask incredulously.

“Yeahhh,” JoJo breathes, seeming to warm up to the idea even more. “I imagine a lot of women would enroll their boyfriends in the… what would it be? An online course?”

Ava shakes her head. “It would be more personal if we met the clients face-to-face.”

I wave a hand at the insane people in front of me. “Y’all are talking like we’re actually going to do this.”

JoJo turns to me in challenge. “Why shouldn’t we? Who better to help men become book boyfriends than romance authors? We know all the tricks. And just think about how many women it would help. It could turn their man into their dream man with a little advice from four authors who know a thing or two about what women want.”

Okay, I like that idea… Helping women by guiding their men into the book-boyfriend domain.

“True,” I said slowly. “We all get tons of messages and reviews from readers saying they wish they could find a man like the ones in our books.”

“And though we write our men as uber attractive, I guarantee ninety percent of those women are more interested in how the book boyfriends act than their physical appearance.” Gemma stares down at her hands in her lap, and her voice softens. “Every woman wants to be treated with the respect she deserves.”

My heart breaks a little for her, and I stand before nudging her over and squeezing into the chair beside her so I can wrap her in a hug. Gemma Fairchild is a badass lawyer and as tough as nails, but I know her breakup with Aiden cut her deeply.

“You really think we can do it?” I ask.

Her lips curl up into a smile as she blinks away her emotions. “Fuck yeah, we can. I think it could be something really great.”

For the next three hours, we brainstorm. Some of the ideas are silly as fuck because we’re all pretty much trashed on vodka wine— which at some point had become vodka vodka—and we laugh hysterically until the wee hours.

We also make lots of promotional videos, and at some point Gemma spanks me with a hairbrush and calls me a good girl. So many shenanigans.

Eventually, we come up with a name and a game plan.

While I design an engaging website, Ava, the marketing genius of the bunch, makes us a gorgeous logo.

“Okay, Gemma. You’re the lawyer. Make sure this client contract is how you want it.” I pass her my laptop.

She squints drunkenly at the screen before closing one eye and slanting her head to the side. Approximately twelve seconds later, she nods her head. “Yup. Looks good to me.”

“All set then. Activate the website,” JoJo instructs, and I do. “We made some graphics and reels, and Gemma wrote a script. Sending it to your phones now.”

Everyone’s devices ping, and we pick them up. “This looks soooo good,” Ava drawls, tipping over sideways against me. “Can we share to our social media accounts now?”

“Let the marketing commence,” I yell, and Ava startles.

“Shit, you get loud when you’re drunk,” she complains as we all begin posting on Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok.

When we’re done, four sets of eyes find each other, and we burst into spontaneous laughter.

“That may have been the most idiotic thing we’ve ever done,” Gemma crows, swiping tears of mirth from her bottom lids with her thumbs.

“It was your idea,” I point out.

“We’re business owners,” Ava says, her drink-flushed face beaming with pride. Then her eyes round, and she slides dramatically to the floor. “Oh my god! We’re business owners!”

“Don’t start freaking out,” JoJo warns.

“But what if everyone thinks it’s stupid?”

“Then we say it was just a joke… an early April Fool’s gag.” It’s currently October, but whatever. “I can delete the website like it never happened.” My shoulders lift and fall in a shrug.

“We probably need to do that anyway,” Gemma slurs. “In the morning. This was a dumbass idea.”

“And it was yours,” I remind her again.

“Yeah, well I’m hammered, babes. You shouldn’t listen to a thing I say when I’ve been drinking.”

JoJo lifts her almost empty glass. “Well, for the next few hours anyway, we own a business like the boss bitches we are. More toasts!”

“Here’s to the floor. It’ll hold you when no one else will,” Ava calls from her position on the rug.

“Here’s to being naughty and saving Santa a trip,” I say before turning to JoJo.

“Here’s to all the liquor we drank tonight and the Advil we’ll swallow tomorrow.”

“That’s probably the most accurate toast of the evening.” Gemma’s face softens as she raises her glass. “Here’s to the nights we’ll never remember with the friends we’ll never forget.”

“Hear, hear!” Ava says, snagging her drink and spilling half of it on her head.

A sloppy grin overtakes my face when we all clink glasses and yell, “To the Book Boyfriend Builders!”