Page 17 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

SYMPTOMS OF A ROMANCE HEROINE

Hazel

He was right.

I wake up ridiculously refreshed as the sun streaks through the window, luring me out of the king-size bed that I was betrothed to for twelve wonderful hours overnight.

It was a quickie marriage between the mattress and me, but oh so good.

After a shower, a fruit-laden breakfast from a nearby outdoor market, and a cup of coffee from an espresso stand, I’m ready for the book tour to begin this afternoon.

I head toward the Spanish Steps, mentally reviewing the day ahead.

First, we have a signing at a popular bookstore in the city that carries lots of English language titles, but also ones translated into Italian—like mine and Axel’s.

In the afternoon, we’ll meet up with the VIP group that we’ll be riding the rails with.

Before we go all aboard with them in the evening, Axel will take the lead and show the group around the city, visiting some of the locations in Rome from his books.

I’ll play sidekick as he goes. I’m kind of looking forward to my second fiddle role today.

As much as it’s fun to be on every now and then, it’s also nice to lurk in the background.

To observe.

And to take notes on everything and everyone around me.

Maybe I’ll find unexpected inspiration for another romance.

I’ve yet to write a romance that contains even a single scene in Italy.

As I wander up the one hundred thirty-five steps, soaking in the Roman vibe, I decide that just might need to change.

This city feels…romantic.

At the top of the steps I turn around, indulging in the view of the tourist mecca.

Then I savor the memories of my day yesterday.

I can’t see it from here, but I can perfectly picture the nearby piazza where Axel and I ate lunch.

I can see in my mind the fountain of books, and I can recall our conversation about wishes and cons.

My chest feels warm, sort of glowy.

Hmm.

That must just be from the weather. I crane my neck heavenward, enjoying the rays from the summer Italian sun.

Yup. This is a sun glow, clearly.

Since it’s time for me to get ready, I lower my gaze and head down the steps. I walk across the square then into the hotel so I can freshen up before the signing. When I push open the door, my pulse sprints as Axel steps out of the elevator several feet away.

He hasn’t noticed me yet.

But I definitely notice him.

He’s wearing those black glasses, of course. But today they somehow make him look not only sexy smart, but sexy smarter .

Then, I check out his clothes—the trim jeans that hug his legs, the black button-down that’s nice and tight in the arms.

Huh.

Does Axel have strong biceps I never noticed before? How is it possible I’ve never noticed them? I’m an arms woman. Surely, I’d have checked out the guns before. I’m checking them out now for longer than I probably should. When I realize I’ve been staring—okay, gawking—my gaze snaps to his face.

I try to rearrange my expression to I was not staring at you while I do just that, taking in that just-the-right-amount of stubble, the soul-deep blue eyes, the full lips.

That warm, hazy feeling in my chest kicks up a few notches.

Turns into something hotter.

When he spots me looking at him, he flashes me a crooked and cocky grin as he stops in front of me. “Sleep well, Valentine?”

“The best,” I say, trying to school my voice so I don’t sound like I was just purring over his trim, toned physique.

“Told you so,” he says, a little pointed. Like he has to land a dig.

But I don’t dig back. “Yeah, you did,” I say simply. I’m too busy trying to figure out what to do with Axel being ultra-sexy today.

My pulse spikes. Has it spiked with him before?

My skin buzzes. Is that new too?

Wait. Just wait.

I know what this cacophony of foreign sensations in my chest is. This must just be the residual effects of yesterday’s jet lag.

Whew.

I’ll be fine. “I’m going to get ready for the signing. I think Amy with Chandler Publicity is taking us together?”

“Yup. Amy said she’d be here at twelve,” he says, then nods toward the revolving door of the hotel. “I’m going to kick around the Eternal City. Maybe do some book research for a little bit. Catch you in an hour.”

With a casual chin nod, he’s off. A little swagger in his step. A coolness in his stride. As I watch him go, I study him intensely, the shape of him, the swoop of his hair, the set of his shoulders.

Yes, I know what this shivery feeling in my body is. It has to be the jet lag burning off.

It just has to be.

A twenty-something brunette with an eager smile hands me a paperback of The I Do Redo.

“Who should I sign this to?” I ask in my best attempt at Italian.

“Very good,” she says in that language, then she shifts to English. “To Andrea, please. I just love Brayden and Kelsey so much,” she says as I flip open the copy. I’m at a table in the back of the bookstore, next to Axel, who’s chatting with another reader.

“Aww, thank you. I’m so happy to hear that,” I say to Andrea, then I grab my purple Sharpie and sign the book.

As I hand it to her, Axel reaches for a pen, brushing my wrist as he stretches his arm to grab it.

A tingle sweeps down my chest.

What the hell?

I jerk my gaze to him, like I can find the answer in Axel. In his playful eyes.

But the only answer he gives is a wink. “Pen ran dry.”

My mouth has run dry.

My breath catches as I look at him again, but I try to shake off these sensations.

It’s hard, though. With him only a foot away, my nostrils get in on the action, sniffing Axel like he’s a fine wine.

Wine with top notes of sage fading into the afternoon and something deeper, woodsy and dark like a forest at night.

Oh, god. No. This can’t be happening.

I’ll just ignore this blooming feeling.

Surely I can do that.

Right? Of course I can. I’m an expert at avoidance. That’s what writing is, after all. Avoiding reality.

Tra la la la. I’ll spend some time in my imagination.

Except…what did the blonde now standing in front of me just say?

When did she show up in line? Her friendly eyes crinkle at the corners, her hair is looped into a swingy ponytail, and she’s wearing a Book Besties shirt, dark blue against her pale skin. She’s standing next to a woman with glasses, who’s sporting a matching Book Besties shirt.

“I’m Jackie. I make dog bandanas and I love romance novels more than I love potato chips,” the blonde says, sounding like she’s straight out of Jersey.

“And Jackie—we call her Jersey Jackie—loves her chips,” the woman in glasses adds.

She taps her heart. “I’m Alecia. I don’t do anything nearly as interesting as making dog clothes.

I’m in data analysis.” She shudders. “But who cares about that? We’re here for the swoony men, the fabulous women, and the escape.

Your books are pure five Calgon Take Me Aways . ”

I beam. “That’s all I can ask for.”

“That’s our book rating system. Five Calgon Take Me Aways is the highest for our reviews. We’re the Book Besties! And we won the trip with you and Axel,” Jackie says.

“But no Kennedy,” Alecia says with a frown. She sounds like she’s from Minnesota perhaps.

“But we’ll have the best time anyway. We won the trip in a publisher giveaway. We entered a gazillion times. We loved Ten Park Avenue ,” Alecia says.

Uh-oh. They’re going to pepper us with questions about Lacey’s story the whole time.

But I can handle that. I’ve been answering and evading Ten Park Avenue questions for more than a year. “I’m so glad you won the trip,” I say honestly. They seem enthusiastic, and enthusiasm is the best reward from readers.

Plus, I want to hug them in gratitude for saving me from the spate of zingy feelings taking over my bloodstream.

Maybe those feelings won’t dare to reappear.

Maybe I’ll just immerse myself in readers, and travel, and imagination, and I’ll somehow survive this trip like that.

Sounds doable.

“And,” I add, “I want to hear all about the dog bandanas, and the data.”

We chat for a few minutes about how their friend Maria is going to join them on the train ride tonight, how the three of them run a blog, a social media feed, and a TikTok channel, and how they love all our books.

But especially Ten Park Avenue .

I hate disappointing them. I wish I could give them more of what they want.

“Can we take a picture of the two of you?” Alecia asks, her voice pitching up. “You and Axel. I want to use it for a cookie design. I’m learning how to make cookies.”

I frown in confusion. “You want a picture of Axel and me for a cookie?”

That gets his attention. “Did someone say cookie?”

The ladies laugh then shoo us up next to the table, with Jackie scooting in the middle between us.

I’m so thankful for her.

“Jackie, you go on the side. We’re bookends. They’re the books,” Alecia chides.

Nooooo! Don’t put us next to each other!

“Right, right,” Jackie says, scurrying over, then gently nudging Axel so he’s closer to me.

He wraps an arm around me.

Oh god.

His hand on my shoulder feels good.

So good that I steal a glance out of the corner of my eye. That zing wiggles down my chest. I’m dying to turn my face toward his neck and catch the fading scent of the forest at night.

Alecia snaps a selfie, then shows it to us.

As I stare at it, I privately whimper.

There it is in Technicolor.

Me, with flutters in my stomach.

Yup. My sister cursed me. The diagnosis is official—I’ve got all the symptoms of a romance heroine.