For Book Club members ONLY – A 3-chapter sneak peek into Demi’s latest romcom:
Prologue
Theo
Verra Convention Centre
Summer Break
“You actually showed up.”
The fundraising coordinator assigned to our band, Mia Walker, had the kind of British accent that made the hair on my neck stand on end. No matter what she said, I always wound up feeling like I was about to be called into the principal’s office.
“I had work to do.” I tried to brush by her, but the petite brunette stood her ground. I’d have to go through her if I wanted to get backstage.
She planted her fists on her slender hips, and my gaze followed. She was so small; I could’ve wrapped my hands around her entire waist. She would’ve been easy to lift. How upset would she be if I picked her up and moved her out of my way?
“The fundraiser is in two weeks, Theo. If you divas don’t get yourselves together before then, my ass is going to get reamed.”
I shut my eyes and sighed. I wasn’t going to get that image out of my head anytime soon. I swear, it was some kind of cosmic joke that a woman who looked like her could say the things she did.
Mia looked regal. She looked prim and proper–the perfect picture of a classic English beauty. Then she opened her mouth, and it didn’t matter that she had these incredible dark eyes or a rosy pout that made me want to swipe my tongue across it.
There was nothing prim and proper about this woman.
“And we don’t want that,” I grunted.
“Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but not in this case. My friend and the head of this fundraiser have history, and I’m pretty sure they’ll be knocking boots before this thing is over. The last thing I want is him anywhere near my asshole.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
How was it that this woman taught high school? Who would hire her?
“So you’re going to stay right there,” she said, “and get this sound check done for me, aren’t you?”
I clamped my jaw shut as Brent and the rest of the band shuffled onstage.
“Do what she says. I’m tired of her nagging me about you.” The lead singer pushed my guitar into my hands and muttered, “Like I can control when you come and fucking go.”
Mia narrowed her eyes at Brent’s back. It wasn’t a secret that she hated this band, and I didn’t blame her. I hated it too. If Kira hadn’t pushed me into doing this, I never would’ve signed up as Brent’s guitarist.
But it was only for another two weeks. If it made Kira happy, then this would be worth it.
I tuned my guitar and stared across the stage. The center was nothing but wood and washed-out industrial brick, and I tried to picture it with a crowd. In a handful of days, the vendors would start setting up. This place would smell of street food, and I’d be just another one of their volunteers.
From here, I could almost picture it. My daughter would watch me from the crowd, her blue eyes threaded with nerves, and I’d wish I could stand there with her, smoothing her hair back from her face. I’d tell her this move was what Tash wanted for us, that this was the change we needed.
So, even if the last thing I had time for was this band or this fundraiser, I was here. And Mia wouldn’t let me get back to work until we were done.
I tried to remind myself of the goal, of what I wanted to get out of this. I wanted to see a smile firmly stretched across my daughter’s face. I wanted her to forget about her mom for a little while.
But the more I thought about it, the more I was starting to think that was too much to hope for.
Chapter 1: Mia
Eight weeks later
South Bronx Classical
Friday
“Eight parents have pulled out.”
Lilly leaned forward in her seat. “Is it because of me?”
We were in Principal Rutton’s office, watching her settle into her oversized, ergonomic desk chair.
Her room had the kind of official feel that made it impossible to relax—spacious but overpowering. The cream walls and thick navy-blue carpet were just too neat and tidy. Her clunky wooden desk reminded me to put my teacher filter on, and the frames littering her walls reminded me that this was my boss, Lilly’s boss, and the last time we were in here, my best friend almost lost her job.
And this time? The look on Rutton’s wizened, round face could’ve melted paint. She wasn’t happy.
“No, it isn’t just you. It’s mostly the test score issue. The parents are upset with how we’ve handled this.”
I reached over and touched Lilly’s shoulder. When she looked up at me, I could see it all there on her face. She was anxious. And she was anxious because our last Language Arts head teacher, Trevor, spent the better part of last year forging her class test scores.
It was his insane attempt to convince the principal to fire her, but it backfired. When Rutton found out, Trevor was let go, and Lilly was given his job. We thought it would end there, but it looked like our own attempts to smooth things over weren’t going well.
“What do you need us to do?” I crossed one leg over the other and watched as our boss rolled her shoulders back.
“There’s nothing we can do about the test scores. It is what it is. All we can do is make sure this semester goes smoothly. But with Brianna retired and Shawn rolling out his statewide initiative, you’re all I have. I’m not sure we can make this work.”
I straightened in my chair. “I don’t see why we can’t. Our timetables are set, the students are streamed, and Shawn will still be here twice a week.” I waved my hand at Lilly. “She’s done her job. Everything’s handled.”
“Almost everything. We still have to deal with the Advanced Placement Program.” Lilly’s voice was soft but sure, and I hoped that meant she was feeling less anxious about all this.
Rutton stared us both down. Her tone was measured but condescending, and the more she spoke, the more I felt like a five-year-old.
“This is the most important program we teach here; it’s what sets us apart from other schools. We need to make sure it runs smoothly this year.” She stared at us like she was letting her words sink in, then asked, “Which one of you is taking it on?”
Lilly gripped her knees, and I knew she was telling herself not to fidget. She wanted to be in control of this, but she swallowed hard, her eyes dropped to her fingers, and I just–I wasn’t okay with Rutton heaping all this pressure on her.
“I’m doing it.” Both Lilly’s and Rutton’s focus swung to me.
“You’re doing it?”
The way Rutton asked made me itch to take my teacher filter off.
“It’s a lot of work, Mia,” Lilly said.
“Well, it needs doing, doesn’t it? And you’re too busy running our department.”
Lilly’s gaze searched mine. From the corner of my eye, I watched Rutton lean back in her chair.
A few moments beat by before either of them said anything, until finally, Rutton said, “The parents are watching everything we do right now, and we need this program to deliver results. We need all five spots this year. Do you think you can manage that?”
Her tone was goading me, and I clenched my teeth. My filter was slipping.
“Yes,” Lilly answered, and I was grateful. I didn’t need to make things worse by sniping at our boss.
Rutton’s glance narrowed on Lilly. “Good. It’s up to both of you to get those spots, because if you don’t, I’ll have to find a new head teacher.”
Lilly’s breath caught in her throat, and a flare of irritation speared right through me. The words flew from my mouth before I could think. “You can’t just–”
Lilly put her hand on my shoulder, and I clamped my jaw shut. “It’s fine. I understand. The parents expect results, and as head teacher, it’s on me to deliver them.”
Rutton raised a brow. “And you’re comfortable with leaving this program to Mia?”
She nodded, and this time her voice came out sure and strong. “Mia’s never let me down. She’ll get those spots.”
A flicker of warmth cut through my frustration. Lilly’s faith in me almost made me forget how awful Rutton was.
But then the principal’s tone brought me back to reality as she said, “She’d better. I’d hate to have to take back your promotion,” and just like that, I was back to biting my tongue.
* * *
Wrinkled Pages
Saturday
“No, I didn’t hook up with that asshole guitarist. Why would I?”
“Because you’re randy and he was cute,” Lilly drawled.
I scoffed into my phone. I didn’t care how cute he was–an asshole was an asshole.
“I shouldn’t have taught you that word.”
“What? Randy?”
“No one says it anymore.”
“Stop trying to distract me. I love Shawn, but that guitarist was one of the greatest things to come out of that fundraiser, and you know it.”
I rolled my eyes but gave in. “He was a bit ridiculous, wasn’t he?”
My best friend’s laugh was a shot of serotonin straight to my brain. I was smiling at strangers on the sizzling sidewalk, and they were staring back at me like I’d lost my mind. I held my phone tight against my ear and kept walking.
“He was. Forget about the band, we could’ve met our goal if we charged admission just to see him. Women were drooling. Those eyes and that hair? Are you kidding me? It’s not right for a man to look that good.”
“Especially one that’s as big a grump as him. Nice to look at, awful to talk to.”
Lilly sighed, and it sounded almost wistful. “Maybe you should’ve hooked up with him. Enemies-to-lovers is my favorite trope.”
I huffed out a laugh and said, “Excuse me, have you been reading your horny novels again?”
“Mia, they’re not horny novels.”
I turned a corner and dodged another surge of sweaty New Yorkers. The summer break might’ve been over, but this bloody heatwave wasn’t.
“If an author forces two complete strangers into having sex, it’s a horny novel.”
I could picture her rolling her eyes now.
“Other things happen. It isn’t just sex from page one.”
I let out a laugh, and the person across from me gave me a look of disgust. I understood. No one should be laughing with beads of sweat rolling down their back. Most people were covered in suffocating business wear, which was just wild for a Saturday. Meanwhile, there I was in one of my usual breezy boho dresses and sandals, swishing along the sidewalk like a British hippie from the seventies. I definitely couldn’t relate to these poor sods in suits.
“Knowing you, you’re only reading them because they make your panties tight.”
I walked by a store, and as their sliding doors opened, a gust of cool air hit my neck. I almost groaned. Why did the bookstore have to be so far from the subway?
“Cowboy romances are your favorite, right?” I teased. “Do we need to put Shawn on a horse?”
Lilly grumbled, “Shawn doesn’t need a horse, and I’m not reading them for the sex. There’s more to them than that.”
I scoffed. “If there was more to them, they’d be part of the syllabus.”
“But there is. Romance is about change. And healing. We could teach a whole unit on transformation through positive relationships.”
“They get their fill of that with Shakespeare, and we give them too much of him as it is.”
She blew a breath through her nose, and my phone made that awful staticky noise in my ear.
“That’s a fair point.”
I could practically hear the gears turning in that people-pleaser brain of hers. After that meeting with Rutton yesterday, she was on edge. I had to talk her down, or she’d shackle herself to her laptop, and then I wouldn’t see her until the semester started.
“I know Rutton messed with your head, but you’re thinking too hard about this. Our classes are set for the rest of the semester. Just enjoy it.”
She scoffed. “Oh, like you’re enjoying it? What’re you doing right now?”
“It’s one bloody book, Lilly. It’s not like I’m donating a library.”
But expectations were pretty high.
It wasn’t lost on me that, though she could’ve handled it better, Rutton was right. The A.P.P. was the most prestigious program we offered at our private school, and after what happened last semester, our reputation couldn’t afford to take another hit.
But my mind was on Lilly.
For the sake of her career, she needed this class to go well. She was counting on me.
And I was going to teach the shit out of this program.
Every year, a select group of private schools competed for advanced placement into Ivy League universities, and this time, the theme was Breakouts: Texts That Shatter the Cultural Glass Ceiling. My class was going to study a literary fiction piece titled Misplaced–a story about a teen going through loss.
I had a new student joining us on Monday and didn’t have a single copy I could loan her, which was why I was on my way to the closest bookstore I could find. My students wouldn’t show up to my class with blank faces. Not even the girl I hadn’t met yet. Too much was riding on this.
“It would’ve been fine if she didn’t have it for a day,” Lilly reasoned. “She probably needs time to settle in.”
Not on my watch.
Lilly’s argument was a moot point anyway, because there it was–the bookstore sign. I’d never been happier to see the words Wrinkled Pages in my life. I turned the corner into the sliding glass doors, desperate to get out of the heat, and smacked straight into someone.
Immediately, my stomach dropped, and so did my tote bag. But I couldn’t look for it until I’d dislodged myself from this bulky blue wall of a person. He smelled of musky soap and felt firmer than anyone had a right to be.
The bulky wall grunted, took half a step back, and gripped my elbows. As I looked up, the surprise of seeing Theo’s face made me forget about my tote. I didn’t even notice that something had rolled out of it.
Still holding my arms, Theo led me away from the entrance as Lilly asked, “Mia? You okay?”
“I’ll call you back,” I answered, jamming my thumb on the end-call button.
As he let me go, I watched, stunned, while he bent to pick up my things.
Well. What were the odds?
I’d just been talking about him with Lilly. The last time I’d seen him was onstage during the fundraiser. He was a tattooed, broody nightmare. When it ended, I thought I’d never have to see him again.
And really, what was the point of living in a city as big as this if I was just going to run into him anyway?
His broad shoulders were tense as he handed me my bag, his blue eyes refusing to meet mine as he said, “Is this yours?”
Sitting in the palm of his hand was my purple bullet vibrator. Of course it slipped out and rolled across the floor–because why wouldn’t it?
I snatched it from him and refused to feel embarrassed. A woman does what she needs when she needs to. No one was going to sexually shame me, especially not some asshole guitarist in an expensive blue polo shirt.
“What’re you doing in a bookstore?” I asked. “I thought you could only read sheet music.”
His brows lifted, and for a second, I almost thought he was fighting a smile, which would’ve been a better look for him than his usual scowl.
With his stubbled jawline and tousled honey-brown hair, he reminded me of a midwestern cowboy who had just moved to the big city to ‘figure life out’. I could picture him in flannel and denim, which wasn’t a stretch considering he already had an actual honest-to-god tan, which seemed like something a man got out in a field while wrangling cattle. He would’ve fit perfectly in one of Lilly’s horny novels.
Someone just had to get rid of the business-casual polo shirt and dark slacks he was wearing.
I sucked in my bottom lip, thinking about panties tightening, as he stared down at me and said, “I just picked up a book for my daughter.”
I eyed the brown-paper-wrapped book in his fist. “Well, that makes more sense.”
He gave me the kind of nod that would’ve looked better if he had a wide-brimmed hat on his head, and oh my god, what was I doing thinking a thought like that? Lilly and her damn horny novels were getting to me.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mia.”
I scoffed. “No, it isn’t. I know you and the band hated me as much as I hated all of you.”
His lip twitched again, still fighting that smile, but he managed to control it as he said, “I don’t remember saying that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I missed rehearsals because I was busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Working.”
“On what?”
“My job, which is what I should be doing now.”
I gestured behind me and moved aside. “Well, if it’s so important, don’t let me get in your way.”
Something that almost resembled a smirk crossed his features before he went back to his default setting of unbearably broody.
This man towered over me. Not that that was saying much. Most people did. But his body almost leaned toward mine, like he was a breath away from caging me against the stack of books at my back. A shiver pulsed low in my stomach, and I pushed the thought away as Theo passed by without another word.
I watched him through the glass doors, and finally let out a breath. I didn’t realize I’d been holding it in.
There, I told myself, He’s gone, and I’m fine. No damage done.
Now, if the next semester could hold that sort of luck for me, I might have a fighting chance at getting those spots.
“Okay, let’s focus here,” I muttered to myself. “I just need that book.”
Chapter 2: Theo
“That woman shouldn’t be allowed to teach.”
I watched Mia from across the street as she rushed out of the bookstore with her phone strapped to her ear and hoped that was the last time I’d see her.
As usual, Mia was rude. I might not have been the easiest person to nail down for that fundraiser, but I didn’t expect her to stand there and glare at me.
But her attitude didn’t bother me as much as seeing that vibrator roll out of her bag.
What kind of teacher carries a vibrator? Why would she need something like that with her? How often was this woman getting off in public?
I ran my hand across the back of my neck as she turned the corner, and my palm came away wet with sweat. She was gone, just like that.
An older lady slowed down and cleared her throat as she passed by, and I got the hint. I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching Mia walk away.
It was time to get back to work.
After twenty minutes of hiking in that summer heat, my office felt arctic. As I walked inside, Kira looked up at me from the reception desk.
“Hey, Dad. Did you get it?”
I handed the brown paper bag to her and stood under the air conditioning vent as she unwrapped it.
“Misplaced. I think I’ve seen this before.”
“It’s meant to be some kind of viral book.”
“Really?”
“That’s what the manager said.”
Kira’s brow furrowed. “I’ll be studying a book written this century for once. That’s kind of cool.”
She turned it over and read the blurb as I looked around. Sandy-brown floorboards, cream-colored walls, healthy plants in every corner. My chiropractic practice was exactly as I’d left it: clean, minimal, and spacious.
On Monday, I’d be able to open these doors. Patients would walk in sore and leave feeling better than they had in years. Coming from a small town like we did, it had taken some time to get used to living in a city as big as this one. But it was finally ready. I was ready. It would be good to settle into a routine again.
Kira’s sad sigh pulled me back to the gleaming white desk.
“It’s about a girl who loses her mom. Dad, I don’t think I can read this.”
Tears filled her eyes, and instinct took over as I pulled the book from her fingers.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. This program was the reason Mom wanted to move here in the first place.” She groaned and put her head in her hands. “I haven’t even started yet, and I’m already fucking things up.”
“Kira,” I snapped.
“Sorry,” she sniffed, lifting her head. “But I can’t read that.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “You won’t have to. I’ll talk to your teacher about it on Monday.”
She wiped her eyes on her wrist. “But I don’t want them to know about Mom.”
I looked over the book in my hands. “Because you think they’ll treat you differently?”
She sniffed again and nodded. I smoothed my hand across her hair.
“I’ll take care of it. And I won’t say a word about Mom.”
She pushed her head into my palm. She’d been doing that since she was three, and it pulled at my chest the same way it always did.
Chapter 3: Mia
South Bronx Classical
Monday
“Are you excited?” Lilly asked as she looked around the smallest and oldest classroom in our school.
The room was shoebox-sized, with exposed red-brown brick walls and an electricity-sparking brown carpet. On one side of the room, there was a single whiteboard, an overhead projector, and a blocky wooden desk. The rest of the room was taken up by student desks, all bundled together in the usual U shape. They pointed toward the whiteboard in that typical way that meant I would be their central focus for the next fifty minutes.
It was hideous. It was perfect.
“I’m nervous.” And it was true. I’d taken it for granted that Lilly needed me to do this, but now that I was here, I was afraid I’d screw it up.
Lilly tilted her head at me, which made her mousy-brown bangs tangle with her absurdly long lashes. Her green eyes flickered over my face.
“You don’t get nervous.”
“I know.” I put a hand to my chest and felt my heart pounding away in there. “Is this what you have to put up with?”
She barked out a laugh. “Constantly. I still feel like I might throw up every time Shawn looks at me.”
Ah yes, Shawn. Lilly’s tall, smoldering, education-mastermind boyfriend. I was glad he wasn’t around. He’d tease me about this for weeks.
Lilly handed me the takeout coffee she’d been carrying, gripped my shoulders, and turned me to face her.
“You’re going to get those spots.”
“But what if I don’t?”
“Then you don’t.”
“Lilly,” I groaned. “What if Rutton takes your promotion away? What if I ruin this for you? I know what this job means to you.”
After everything Lilly had been through, she more than deserved this job.
When her mom died, Lilly threw herself into following in her footsteps. Her goal was to teach at her mom’s school and to make the same impact she had.
Here, Lilly felt connected to her mom, and now she could make a difference too.
To finally be able to run the department after everything Trevor pulled on her was the kind of universal rightness that had to be celebrated, not threatened. So of course I couldn’t stomach the thought of this opportunity being ripped from her just because I couldn’t deliver on these program spots.
But Lilly wouldn’t see it that way.
And just like I knew she would, she raised a brow. It was just visible under her bangs, and I almost smiled at the look on her face.
“Then we’ll put on our big boy pants and figure it out. Right?”
I breathed in and held it. Put on our big boy pants. She was right. I’d taught hundreds–thousands–of classes over my career. I could do this for her, and I could do it well.
Air rushed out of me as I said the same thing to her that I’d been telling myself for days. “I’m going to teach the shit out of this class.”
Her smile wrinkled those adorable freckles of hers as she said, “Yeah, you are.”
She squeezed my shoulders before taking back her coffee and left me to set up.
Not too long later, a familiar scratchy, pubescent voice carried into the room.
“Miss Walker? Holy shit, are you our teacher?”
Diago walked in with a big smile, and Miles shuffled in behind him. They were the only boys scheduled to be in my class.
When I read Miles’s name on my attendance sheet, I wasn’t surprised.
He was one of my favorite students, sure, but he also fit every classic nerd stereotype. Tall and slightly hunched, with thick black-framed glasses covering his brown eyes, he was surprisingly easy to overlook for someone so broad. His stubble was half-formed, barely covering his jawline, and that floppy hair of his looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week.
But he was a quiet achiever, and every one of his marks made him the ideal candidate for an opportunity like this one.
Diago was a surprise, though. He was loud and funny; the last thing he took seriously was a potato-marijuana experiment he submitted for a tenth-grade science class. I had to wonder if his rich-investor father had something to do with him being here.
“Hi, Miss,” Miles greeted before taking a seat.
I looked squarely at Diago and waited. His smile slipped. “I can’t swear?”
“Have you ever been allowed to swear in class?”
He rolled his eyes and joined Miles as two more students filed in: Amber and Natasha. Both were nice enough, but I had, at times, caught them acting like they were running a gossip ring in our hallways.
“Oh em gee, Miss Walker?” Amber gushed. “You’re our teacher?”
I almost rolled my eyes. “Why is everyone so excited about me being here? Yes, I’m your teacher.”
Natasha pouted. “I thought we were going to get Mr Jackson.”
I sighed. What teenage girl in this school didn’t drool over the infamous Shawn Jackson? It was a bloody epidemic.
“Nope, you’ve got me. Oh for cripes’ sake, Natasha, don’t look at me like I’ve kicked your puppy.”
The girls chose seats directly opposite the two boys, and they stared at each other with a mixture of repulsion and fascination. Diago tried his winning smile on Natasha, and she scoffed like it was the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen.
I hoped Diago’s ego could handle it.
“Okay.” I clapped my hands and gestured to the four books resting on my giant blockish desk. “Here’s the deal. You guys are here because you applied for advanced placement–”
I was cut off by a faint knock on the door. Every pair of eyes swung toward the girl standing at its entrance. Her blue eyes were bright but wary, her caramel-blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and she shuffled in on coltishly long legs as she stared around the small, outdated classroom.
“You must be Kira. Come in.”
I gestured for her to find a seat as Diago muttered under his breath, and Miles stared at her with the entire force of his black-rimmed glasses. Amber and Natasha were not happy.
If the boys and girls were sitting on opposite sides of one another, it meant that Kira had no choice but to sit in the curve of our U-shaped setup. It meant that she had to stare directly at me. I hoped that wasn’t unnerving for her.
I made a face as I picked up my stack of books and handed them out. “I only have enough for four of you. Maybe two of you could share until I find another copy? This book is sold out almost everywhere.”
Kira’s hand went up, and it trembled in the air just as a knock sounded on my door.
“Actually, Miss Walker, we have to talk to you about that.” I turned to the sound of Principal Rutton’s voice, and almost jolted back into Amber’s desk.
Rutton was shaped like an apple. She was short but wide; a powerhouse of a principal. She knew how to take up space. But with Theo Hudson standing next to her, she looked teeny.
I almost blurted, “What’re you doing here?” but caught myself in time.
Theo clearly didn’t have the same idea. His voice was low and outraged as he said, “You’re teaching this class?”
From where I was standing, it looked like the vein on his tattooed neck might burst.I gestured for them to wait outside as I said, “Class, I’ll be right back. Have a flip through the book if you like.”
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