Heartsville 01 - Bookmarked (Piper Vaughn)

Bookmarked

Piper Vaughn

To save his bookstore from closing, Mark Werner realizes it’s going to take a miracle—like getting reclusive, best-selling author Shepherd Knight to agree to appear for a signing.

After their disastrous last encounter, Mark doesn’t hold up much hope Shepherd will agree. Shepherd’s never made a single public appearance. In fact,
Mark wouldn’t even know what he looks like had he not accidentally discovered the sexy stranger he’d been flirting with for months, aka “Tall-Dark-and-Grumpy,” was also his fanboy obsession.

But desperate times call for desperate measures. If Mark can convince Shepherd, it’ll be a major coup in the book world and might just save Bookmarked from sinking. Too bad Shepherd won’t reply to his e-mails. Yet Mark didn’t earn the reputation of having a “sunshine-and-rainbow-fart” personality for nothing. He’ll do whatever it takes to get his man… and hopefully not make a fool of himself in the process.

To the members of Piper’s Peeps, to my beta readers, and to my partners-in-crime: Jayden Brooks, Nico Jaye, Cate Ashwood, and J.H. Knight. Thanks for helping me create this gayborhood.

And to Lynyrd Skynyrd, present and past members. For reasons. Rock on, my simple men.

Welcome to the gayborhood! In the cozy town of Heartsville, the streets are lined with trees, the shops are full of friendly faces, and happily ever after is just around the corner. Come get to know the boys next door—naughty, nice, and everything in between.

One

“You know, if you keep making that face, your eyes are going to get stuck like that.”

Mark bolted upright in his chair, his heartbeat racing at the sound of an unexpected voice. Over the top of his computer screen, he spotted his best friend, Adam, lounging in the darkened doorway to his small, cluttered office. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Serves you right,” Adam said. “You stood me up.”

Mark’s eyes flicked to the clock on his monitor. 10:30 p.m. “Oh man, is it that late already?” He and Adam had spoken earlier and agreed to meet for drinks at ten. It felt as if he’d just locked the doors to the shop, but there he sat an hour and a half later. Good thing Adam had a spare key for emergencies… like when Mark got caught up in spreadsheets and forgot their plans.

“Sorry.” Mark pulled off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, it might be an improvement if my face did get stuck like that. I’m not winning any prizes lately.”

Adam made an amused sound, not quite a laugh, and crossed the room to drop into the seat in front of Mark’s desk. “You might if you ever actually left this store. Even in the gayborhood, I don’t think bookstores are considered prime cruising spots.”

Mark sighed. “And therein lies the problem. I can’t leave the store when I’m the only full-time employee, and we’re not bringing in the kind of business I’d need to justify hiring another one. I feel bad enough Dad comes in to help when I can’t afford to pay him.” Mark’s only other employee was a part-timer, a student from nearby Havenston University, who filled in around her class schedule.

Adam gave him a sympathetic look. “Is it that bad?”

“Worse
.
”

Mark had been staring at the month’s sales numbers, despairing, since he’d ushered the last customer out the door and shut down the registers. No matter how much or how hard he wished, the figures hadn’t magically changed. It was a good news/bad news scenario. The good: he was still just barely in the black. The bad: one rough dry spell could change that. If business didn’t improve, and soon, he’d have to consider closing down the shop.

His stomach lurched at the thought. Everything he’d worked so hard to build, everything he’d sacrificed for over the last five years, would be gone. The neighborhood bookstore was going the way of the dodo, and Bookmarked might be another casualty of Internet convenience shopping if his circumstances didn’t change in the immediate future. Mark couldn’t think of a quick solution, aside from praying for a miracle to any god who might be listening. Maybe there was a tribal dance he could do to draw in fellow book nerds.

“What are you going to do?” Adam asked.

Mark shrugged, fiddling with the bracelets and cuff on his left wrist. “I have a few ideas. I’m not sure any of them will work.”

Was that really him speaking in such a dull, defeated tone? He hardly recognized his own voice anymore. Where was the enthusiasm and cheer that had made his college roommates grumble about freaks of nature and their perpetual good moods? It went against his personality to be so listless and negative, but he didn’t know how much longer he could stand to keep a smile on his face while his dreams and accomplishments crumbled around him. It hurt too much.

“Well, shut this stuff down.” Adam waved his hand. “We’ll go to Three Sheets and talk it out.”

Ten minutes later, they were seated in their favorite booth at Three Sheets, a pub down the block from Mark’s bookstore. It was one of the many businesses lining Market Street, the main thoroughfare in downtown Heartsville. Thanks to its thriving LGBT community, most people jokingly called it “the gayborhood,” as Adam did. For Mark, it was simply home. A place where he felt free to be himself, where he’d be safe holding his boyfriend’s hand or even sharing a quick kiss while strolling the sidewalk. If he had a boyfriend. Which he didn’t because high stress and eighty-hour workweeks weren’t exactly conducive to romance.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Adam said once they’d ordered their drinks and he’d gotten over his irritation at being carded by the new server. Again. Adam might be approaching thirty, but with youthful good looks, shaggy hair, and big brown eyes, he could pass for a fresh-faced eighteen. It had been the bane of his existence for years, having caused him countless issues as he built up his photography business and struggled to be taken seriously by his peers.

Mark consulted the list of ideas cycling through his brain. “I was thinking of maybe a signing weekend. I’ve had a couple in the past, but the problem is the indie authors don’t draw in much of a crowd, and booking a bigger name from out of state is a pipe dream. We don’t get enough business to make it worth their while.” He took a fortifying sip of his chocolate stout. “There’s only one local author who has a large enough readership to actually make a difference, but he never does signings. At least not that I’ve heard.”

“Oh no.” Adam arched his brows. “You don’t mean Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Grumpy?”

“One and the same.” Mark kept his tone casual, but just the thought of his last encounter with Shepherd Knight made his cheeks heat with residual embarrassment. Hard to believe a year had already passed when the humiliation still made him want to melt into the carpet and die.

“So you’re going to poke the sleeping dragon.”

Mark trailed his fingertip along the rim of his glass. “It’s not like I have a lot of choices right now.”

If he did, he wouldn’t even contemplate contacting Shepherd. He’d known his favorite urban fantasy author lived in Illinois. Shepherd’s biography had told him as much. But Mark had never seen a picture or suspected Shepherd Knight might be a resident of Heartsville.

Then, a year and a half ago, a new customer walked into Bookmarked and quickly became a regular fixture. Several times a week, he’d show up and settle at one of the tables on the upper level, where he worked on a laptop until close. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and with his height and dark features, the guy immediately caught Mark’s attention. It wasn’t that he was particularly good-looking. In fact, he was almost too severe, his grim expression warning people off as effectively as a raised middle finger. Mark never saw him smile. And yet there was
something
—something magnetic and sensual and hot that made Mark’s pulse race whenever their gazes locked.

For six months, Mark flirted. They didn’t speak often, save for when the guy came to the register to make a purchase, but Mark made a habit of stopping at his table to gather and restock the books other customers had left behind. And every time those dark eyes captured his—which was often; whenever Mark looked, the guy seemed to be looking back—Mark felt a stab of heat, a sharp throb of lust that made him want to lay out on the tabletop, drop open his thighs, and offer his ass for the taking.

One night, as he passed the guy’s chair, Mark happened to catch a glimpse of his computer screen. He spotted a name on the open document and gasped, nearly tripping over his own feet in his shock.

Shepherd Knight.

“
The
Shepherd Knight?” he choked out. The guy’s head jerked toward him. “Oh my God! You write
The Drake Chronicles
. I’m a huge fan! I always say Jack Drake should be on television. He’s a total badass. Clever, sarcastic, but sympathetic too. I can think of a few actors who might do him justice. And, man, Thaine. So perfect. The way he—” Mark broke off with a sheepish smile. “Well, they’re your characters, right? I’m sure I don’t have to describe them to you.”

Mark laughed self-consciously. He’d been following
The Drake Chronicles
for years. The series had almost everything he could want: a strong, snarky hero, heavy mystery and paranormal elements, intricate world-building, a gay secondary character who played a pivotal role to the plot, and just enough love and sex to keep things interesting.

He would’ve preferred the romance to be between Jack and Thaine, but he liked Alicia, the heroine, and for the rest, there was always fanfiction. It wasn’t as if Thaine’s sexuality was ignored either. He had a boyfriend within the series, even if their nookie never got any page time. Shepherd had still brought Thaine and a host of queer characters to a mainstream audience, which was monumental. The books regularly hit the
New York Times
best sellers list. It gave Mark hope for the small LGBT presses and indie authors he knew.

It figured the man who intrigued him so much would be the author of the series he adored. The knowledge only intensified the attraction. Arousal pooled in his belly, and his cock stiffened. Once again, he thought of offering his ass to Shepherd. He hadn’t imagined the tension between them, or the times Shepherd’s stare lingered, or Shepherd’s blushes and tongue-tied responses whenever Mark spoke to him. Maybe tonight after he closed shop, they could—

Shepherd turned to glare at him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to read over people’s shoulders?”

Mark flushed, his thoughts of sex scattering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was walking by and—”

“Look, I didn’t come here for some fanboy to gush all over me. No, I won’t sign any books. No, I won’t answer questions. I just want to write in peace.”

Mark’s flush deepened, and his semi-erection deflated under the weight of Shepherd’s scorn. Oh hell, he
had
been gushing, hadn’t he? He couldn’t help himself. “Sorry. I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He scampered away, his cheeks flaming, metaphorical tail tucked tight between his legs. First official meeting with his favorite author and he’d practically creamed his pants. No doubt he’d come across like some awkward, infatuated teenager after that bout of verbal diarrhea.

Mark groaned remembering it. Shepherd hadn’t stepped foot in the store since, likely fearing further harassment from the “fanboy.”
Ugh. How humiliating.

“I don’t know why I’m even considering asking him.”
Welcome to Deluded County. Population: Mark.
“He’s going to tell me to go fuck myself. I can feel it.”

A smirk hovered around Adam’s lips, but after a second, he stifled it and reached across the table to give Mark’s hand a commiserating pat. “Well, he already has a bad impression of you, right? This can’t hurt anything. Besides, from what you told me, the guy’s an ass. There wasn’t any call for him to be so rude to you.”