It turns out that San Diego wasn’t as far of a drive as I thought it might be. I hope I’m not the only guy attending this. I’ve never been to a book event before, but after everything Amy had been saying about them, I wanted to attend. If nothing else, so I could see her and buy one of her books.

Did I have something sweet prepared to say to her? Absolutely not. At least not yet. I just valued the friendship that we were building and I wanted to concentrate on that. Our foundation wasn’t based off subs I’ve scened with or slept with, or work acquaintances. This was a real friendship.

I wore jeans, a button-down shirt, and boots. I assumed that would meet typical book event dress code standards. I also wore my glasses instead of contacts because I didn’t want her to recognize me. I gave the valet my keys and headed inside the hotel. In the lobby, there were tons of signage for Sinful and Sensuous in San Diego.

Who the hell comes up with these event names?

From what Amy was telling me, this event would have more of the darker romance authors in attendance. I followed the signs and was surprised when I saw the massive line at the ticket table. While I waited, I fucked around with my phone some and received a text from Amy.

The picture showed her table, adorned with a bright purple tablecloth. Just like her logo and branding colors. Soon, I’d be seeing this in person. It looked like she had all her books out on display and on small silver easels.

I paid the entry fee and received an event bag that was full of stuff. Amy had mentioned that these are called “swag bags.” I glanced inside and saw the typical collection of items Amy said were popular: bookmarks, info cards, pens, keychains and a stress ball. Stress ball might come in handy.

The exhibit hall was pretty packed, and there were rows and rows of tables. I glanced at my seating map that I was given and found the row where Amy Andrews would be. It was hard to act interested in many of the other tables, though I did stop and glance at a table that had handcuffs on the banner. From where I stood at that table, I could see the Amy Andrews’ purple tablecloth. In a sea of black and gray, she stuck out with the purple tablecloth.

And she was fucking hot!

Suddenly, I was looking at her not only as a friend, but possibly as a friend with benefits.

I moved from table to table in the row but constantly looked up to glance at her and hear her voice. She had dark brown hair, but some red hues caught the light. Amy stood about five feet seven inches. She had an average build; soft curves and ample breasts that could keep me entertained for a while. I watched her as she spoke to a few readers. I suppose they were probably fans since they were taking turns posing with her for pictures.

Standing at the table next to hers, I could hear her voice clearly. There was no accent, and I didn’t detect that she was covering an accent. Her bio on all the social media sites and her own website touted being born and raised in Southern California.

“Yeah, absolutely. We can most definitely schedule Amy to pop in and appear on your live blog event. Let me get her schedule,” said the woman behind Amy’s table to another “official” looking woman. This must be the P.A., Samantha Kelly.

Amy was talking to some more fans while Samantha was scheduling something with the other lady. I carefully lifted a copy of Paris and turned it over to look at the back cover. I wasn’t reading it; I was listening to Amy talk passionately about a new book. Could it be the one she’s been asking for my inside advice?

“Amy, what book or project are you working on now?” One of the fans asked her. She held in her arms what appeared to be very tattered copies of a few of Amy’s books.

“Oh, you guys are going to love my new book. It’s a bit different than anything I’ve written. Darker and more erotic,” Amy excitedly explained and rubbed her hands together as if she held the greatest secret of them all.

I focused on her purple nails. They really did match her shoes well.

“Yay! We can’t wait!” Another woman said.

“Yeah, when does it come out, Amy?” a third woman in the group asked.

“I don’t have the confirmed date yet, but I’m hoping late next month,” Amy delivered the news to the group of ladies and they began asking her about some of the characters.

I was trying to listen to what she was saying about the characters when Samantha Kelly started chatting with me. I adjusted my glasses and looked back down at the book in my hand.

“That one is a heartbreaker. Oh, my God, I cried for days after I read that book,” Samantha said and tapped her fingers on the book I held.

I flipped the book over and nodded as I set the book back on its’ silver display stand. I picked up Country Chic and glanced at the back of it. Again, I wasn’t really reading the description. I actually downloaded this book last night and planned to begin it tonight. Samantha continued to chat up the books. Damn, I just wanted her to stop talking so I could hear Amy’s voice and listen to what she said about her new book.

“Country Chic is a sweet romance that takes place in the Indiana countryside. It’s the sweet city girl meets the rugged, recently widowed country guy.”

I nodded and set down that book and then glanced at all the others lined up on her table. I picked up Paris again and held it toward Samantha, indicating that I’d like to purchase it.

“Wonderful! You’re going to love it! How would you like to pay? Amy accepts cash, credit and a bunch of the online payment apps,” she said.

I pulled my wallet out and produced the ten-dollar bill to Samantha. She gently accepted it and cradled the money in her hand as if it were truly special to her. And actually, I didn’t take her at all for being fake. I think she’s as genuine as Amy is. And I knew that Amy truly appreciated all her readers and their purchases. She’s told me so, and I’ve watched her interact on social media and now in person.

“One moment and I’ll get Amy to sign it for you,” Samantha said and held her index finger up at me to give her a minute.

“It’s alright. No need to bother her, she’s with her readers,” I quietly said to her.

Samantha frowned at me as if unable to comprehend the fact that I wanted to buy a book but not bother to have it signed. Amy turned her head and made eye contact with Samantha and they seemed to have a silent conversation.

“Amy, this gentleman purchased your first book,” she said and then smiled at me.

Amy looked at me and smiled. I smiled back but kept my lips together and looked down at her table. Fuck, she has a gorgeous smile. While I kept my focus on her table, in my peripheral vision, I saw her take the copy of the book from Samantha.

“He doesn’t want it signed though. I asked him,” Samantha told Amy.

“Oh, okay. Well, thank you, sir, for buying Paris,” Amy said to me.

I nodded and accepted the book from her outstretched hands and moved along to other tables near hers with my heart pounding.