Library of Lust: Love Me Right, #4

By Bridgette Tell

A GUARDED BOOK LOVER.

AN UNSHAKEABLE ROMANTIC.

A SPILLED COFFEE.

Emily is stuck in more ways than one. She is stuck at a dead-end job that doesn't want to use her skills to grow the business. She is stuck on the idea that her online shop sells t-shirt, and only t-shirts. And her heart is stuck on a tall, dark and exceptionally sweet man who just won't leave her alone no matter how many times she tries scare him off.

Liam is this close to finally achieving his dream: opening his own coffee shop. But what good is reaching his dream without someone in his life to celebrate with him. A chance encounter has him thinking he finally found the one. Now if only he could get her to agree to go out on a date with him.

Can Emily open up to Liam in time to let love happen? Or will she hunker down with a book and ignore her own love story?

*Warning: Explicit content and a happy ending buying new panties because yours are ruined

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bridgette Tell
• Release date: Dec 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781777544911

Book preview

To my favourite Aunt. Seeing you is always a treat, filled with laughter, honesty, and way too much whiskey. I’m glad you’re the only one from the family who really knows what it is I write.

CHAPTER 1

Emily

A BULKY VAN swerves into my lane, catching the last bit of the green light. I throw my hands up for a moment, screaming out my frustration. Glaring at the red traffic lights, I run a hand through my short, tangled curls. Just my luck.

A quick glance at my old Ford Focus’s dashboard confirms that I’m going to be late for work. Again.

With a growl of frustration, I glare at the fourth red light I’ve hit in my mad dash across Jasper Ave.

I can almost feel the accusing glare from the bulky manila package in my passenger seat. By the time I get off work the post office will be closed. My gaze stray’s to the familiar red and white sign up ahead. It was right there…

Green light.

I ram my little car into first gear and dive around the other cars headed east. Mind made up, I hit my signal light and scream in delight as I find a parking spot right in front of the tiny corner post office.

In a flash, I’m out of the car and hustling into the office. My hands are still shaking as clutch the bubble wrap envelope. Looking up, I see Janice is working today. And no one else is waiting.

I might actually squeak into work on-time. A smile breaks out across my face.

Hey Emily, Janice calls, her long red hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. She pops her big chew bubble before grabbing my envelope from me.

Janice and I have a routine by now. For the last three years I’ve been coming into this post office to drop off my orders for my Etsy shop. Though in the last half a year business has really picked up. Almost every day, I’m down here at the post office.

When are the new designs coming out? she asks as I print out the address for my client.

Summer, I reply, as I sign off with a flourish. See you later Janice! I call, already running for the door. Janice doesn’t mind—she’s use to it.

Driving through Edmonton can be a nightmare. It’s why I usually end up taking packages on the way to or from work. But with the spring melt making muddy puddles, the occasional slip of ice, it’s been especially hellish today.

I just squeak by a big black lifted truck when I spot the familiar Starbucks sign. A caramel macchiato would be divine right now.

But there’s no time.

Pushing the thought away, I focus on the road and screech into the parking behind the strip mall right as the clock changes to 5:02.

Not bad. But still not on time.

I push my glasses up, more out of nervousness than need, and take a quick breath. Maybe Jenica won’t notice today’s tardiness. Or all of last week. I worry my lip, the familiar sting calming me. Taking another deep breath, I grab my bag and head inside.

Sixty Shades is a well-known luxury women’s wear boutique in Edmonton. We have a very particular brand and a very small clientele. With my fob, I go in the back entrance and quickly drop my bag in the employee area. I straighten my blazer before heading out to the front.

Madelynn gives me a small smile from where she’s counting cash behind the register. I nod back but don’t stop until I get to the front shelves.

Sixty Shades has a very minimalistic look. White walls. White Floor. White tables. White box shelves. The only pop of color—or even shade—comes from the occasional dressy top sitting on a shelf.

The general sense of cold, clean, and sterile is interesting. I don’t like it. But I don’t hate it either.

Just as I get the first shelf straightened, I hear the familiar click of my boss’s heels.

I close my eyes for a moment, before turning and facing Jenica.

Emily. You’re late, she says in her nasally voice. Her hot pink lips are too bright for her pale skin. Her white hair is cut in a severe bob, making her look fifty instead of the thirty-five I know her to be.

I give her a tight smile, I—

She cuts me off before I can say another word. If you’re late again tomorrow, don’t bother showing up. With a sniff and her nose held high, she saunters back to her office.

I also know that she spends her day trolling tinder rather than doing what she was hired to do, the marketing and online side of the business. I have no idea what Gail was thinking when she hired Jenica.

Shaking my head, I continue with straightening the next shelf. The strange indie music in the background pulses, making me lose track of time. Personally, I am more of an Ariana Grande fan. But whatever.

At least I have a job and am getting paid unlike some of my other fellow-business student graduates.

I had interned at Sixty Shades last year. Before Jenica got hired on. Gail, the owner, was so impressed with the online shop I had built up in school, that she offered me a full-time position.

Of course, I took it.

But the moment Jenica had been hired on, the other woman pushed me out of the website and online side of Sixty Shades and kept me up at the front. My fingers and my brain have been itching to do something more than fold clothes and ring up purchases.

God, the dragon has been on edge for the last couple of hours. If she didn’t sign my cheques, I’d seriously consider strangling her, Madelynn comments as she slides up beside me and starts folding clothes.

I giggle.

Madelynn has a special hate-on for Jenica. It started when Jenica began working. She had commented aloud, in front of Madelynn and a customer, that the ‘brand’ had a specific image very specific image. And then she had asked Madelynn to go to the back room.

I like Madelynn. We share a mutual addiction to coffee and all things sweet. The difference between us is I had been cursed—or blessed according to Madelynn—with the ability to eat as much as I want and still look like a gangly twelve-year old boy.

My friend on the other hand was everything I idealize in a woman. Busty with a booty. Soft curves that made her look sweet enough to eat.

Which is the exact opposite body type that Sixty Shades markets to.

The clients we cater to tend to be of the rich elite, with a very thin, severe look that makes them look like the predators they were.

So, I saw the new prints you had posted on Instagram, she begins, turning to lean against the shelf. She leans in, glancing around the room, before whispering, If I wasn’t a firm lover of dick, I would totally do you.

I almost choke on my laugh; coughing once, my neck and face are hot with embarrassment.

I had started my Etsy shop a year into my degree. At the time I had been looking for Christmas presents for my four sisters. But none of the ones I had found were cheeky enough for what I wanted to give to them. Frustrated, I looked into a t-shirt print shop and pulled out my favorite quotes from the romance book I had been reading at the time. Fifty Shades Freed. I got a lot of comments, and after a lot of research, and a hard shove from my oldest sister, Mary-Ann, I set up my Etsy shop; Blum Boutique.

Three years later and over a hundred t-shirt designs, I’ve started to branch out with my brand. Just a little bit. The prints were a recent addition.

My youngest sister Saphine is a model by trade. She had offered to model my shirts, for free. Hence why there is an even number of pictures of myself and my sister on my Etsy shop.

Recently, her boyfriend had commented that his coworker wanted to buy a print of one of the pictures of Emily modeling a t-shirt. After a little research into sizing and pricing, I decided to add a small selection of tasteful—and cheeky—prints.

I don’t know why you hide your body in those. Madelynn gestures at me before continuing, ’clothes’.

I shrug.

The blazer I had thrown on before racing out the door earlier was a little loose in the middle. My top was a high-necked flowy piece. I had matched it with loose fitted dress pants and my patent Mary Janes. Not the sexiest outfit but it blended in well at work, which was all it needed to do.

Madelynn had never seen me outside of work otherwise she would know that hiding my body was simply not me. I loved to lounge around in my apartment, wearing nothing but a cute thong, some thigh highs and one of my relaxed-fit tees with a cheeky romance quote.

The only thing I never go without are my gold, wide rimmed glasses. I love them. They make me feel like a sexy librarian.

Oh, come on. That one where you’re on the ladder and can barely see your panties. That body is smoking hot!

My cheeks burn even hotter. Shh!

She grins.

Before she can say anything else, the familiar rumbles from next door start. Suddenly its impossible to make out what the other person is saying.

We share an irritated glance.

The lot beside Sixty Shades used to be a fancy ice cream shop for years.

No one had known how bad business was until the foreclosed sign went up. I’d had a brief daydream of buying it up for a physical shop to compliment my online one. Except the very next day the sign had been switched over to sold.

The lot had stood vacant for the entire fall. Then the tarps had gone up after the new year. No one else from the strip mall workers seemed to know who had bought the place. Or what kind of store was moving in.

All I know is that the renovations couldn’t be over soon enough. The constant rumbling of saws and clanging hammers during the evening shifts are grating on my last nerves.

Madelynn waves good-bye as she clocks out for the day. I settle behind the cashier desk.

The evenings are usually dead quiet with most of our clientele showing up in the midday. Wealthy people didn’t need to worry about shopping after work, apparently.

With a sigh, I pull up my Etsy shop on my phone and check for any new orders.

Instead, I find some comments on my Instagram page.

I quickly glance at the boss’s firmly closed office door.

Smiling to myself, I push my chair back until its completely out of sight of the office. I lean back and start responding to comments.

If Jenica isn’t going to give me something to do while I am working my shift, then I may as well use my time productively and work on my on online business.

CHAPTER 2

Liam

THE SMELL OF SAWDUST and plaster is so strong that I’m coughing in my dust mask. It’s been over an hour of cutting shelving. I’m nowhere close to being done the shelves but I figure now is a good time to take a break. Before the dust kills me.

Besides, I can stain the shelves that are sanded and ready for a coat.

I rip off my mask, still coughing, and head to the washroom. It was the first room I finished since it hadn’t needed much. Just a new coat of paint and it was good to go.

That is the nice thing about this lease, it had been a little ice-cream shop before. It means a lot less plumbing for me, which saves a lot of my seed money.

Coming back out to the main room, I take seat beside my lunch kit and guzzle down a water bottle. Eyeing the room, I see all the small things that still need to get done in the next couple of weeks.

A buzz from my pocket has me reaching down and checking my texts.

Be there in 5.

Smiling, I throw the empty bottle into the overflowing recycling bin. The renovations have been going slow with only myself to do most of the work. Thank god my best friend is a contractor. While he doesn’t have a whole lot of extra time to help, he’s always here for the complicated things. I can cut shelving all day long but don’t ask me how to properly install them.

With Kayden on the way, I decide to clean up some of the mess. Random bits of wood and thick saw dust litter the floor.

I grab a broom and start sweeping.

This shop has been a dream in the making. Ever since my nonna took me out to a tiny coffee shop in North Edmonton, I’ve known this is where I want to be for the rest of my life. The smell, the taste, the warm atmosphere that is almost dreamy. I’ve worked at more coffee shops in my city then I have fingers on my hands. And each one was unique.

Yes, even the chain-stores are unique just—not to the other stores in their chain.

I have no illusions that my coffee shop is going to be the best ever or be something completely different to all the others. But I do know that if you have good coffee and comfortable seating, people will come. And more importantly, people will stay. And keep buying.

A whistle from the back draws me out of my work. I wipe off the dust my hands against my jeans and look up at my friend.

Damn, she’s really coming along in here, Kayden comments as he runs his hand down the wood panel accent wall I had stapled up all on my own. It only took three tries before I figured out how to piece them together so that they looked good.

Thanks, I say, my gaze zeroing in on the familiar box in his hands. Without hesitating, I grab the pizza out of his hands and set it on the makeshift table in the middle of the room. Two shitty barstools sit beside it, a thrift store bargain I couldn’t walk away from.

Kayden pulls out two beers from his coverall pockets. I crack one without hesitating and start wolfing down the pepperoni pizza.

Laughing, Kayden grabs a piece for himself. I figured you probably haven’t eaten anything today.

I had breakfast, I protest, already grabbing my third piece.

He just gives me a look.

A yogurt and cappuccino counts as a meal, I mumble, my face hot as I avoid his gaze.

My friend knows me to well.

I’ve always had a sweet spot for, well, anything sweet, to be honest. Cannoli. Gelato. Almond filled croissants. Heavy chocolate chunk cheesecake. Mouthwatering, still-warm blueberry muffins. Hot chocolate with whip cream and chocolate drizzle and sprinkles and a wafer on top.

All delicious sweets, but not great for the waistline.

Last year, I had taken Kayden with me to the family reunion. I had the uncomfortable realization, standing there in with my friend as my plus one, that I was the only cousin still single. And I was number eight out of twenty kids. Even my little sister, at sixteen, managed to bring a boyfriend.

And me? I spent the day sitting with my nonna, who kept pushing carbonara towards me until I felt almost sick.

That day, Kayden drove me home to my small studio apartment. I went into my room and took a long look at myself in the mirror. Jiggly arms, a belly that was so big it drooped over my pants. I remember thinking that I looked like the girl in the old Willy Wonka movie, as round as a blueberry. And I had been ashamed of how far I had let myself go.

I promised myself, in front of that mirror, that I would lose the weight. That I would quit hiding behind food and start going for what I wanted in life.

Two years and a hundred pounds later, I was finally making one of my lifelong dreams happen.

And I was absolutely terrified of turning back into that uncomfortable, lonely guy I had been before. Which is why I avoided eating, more than I should.

Thankfully, Kayden says nothing. We finish the pizza off in silence. Once the box is shoved into the garbage, we head over to the side wall where the coffee bar is going up.

I help Kayden with the tape measure but keep quiet as he tracks measurements and mutters to himself while glaring at my wall. I’m not sure if I should be worried or not.

Okay, he finally says, still staring at my wall.

Okay? I ask hesitantly, looking from him and the very pronounced frown on his face to the wall he’s glaring at.

Slowly he nods, and then says again, Okay.

With a quick glance at his wristwatch, he rubs his hair and looks to me. If we keep at it, we can probably get this done by midnight tonight?

I nod. I’m not afraid of the work. I only worry for my friend since he still has to show up at his worksite at seven tomorrow morning.

The next couple hours are spent with me holding shelving in place while he drills holes and then screws the wood into place. My Bluetooth speaker plays soft piano music in the background.

We hit our rhythm as a team and my mind starts to