Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

new endorsement deal. I could be a spokesperson for ridiculous women. After everything that happened over the weekend, I was sure to get the job. We hadn’t even addressed the elephant in the room AKA Emma making a fool of herself where Jax was concerned.

Was I supposed to be the one to bring up the misunderstanding in my hotel room? Or that I snuck under his covers the very next night? Or that he should reeeally put a shirt on? It was all too confusing.

Jax took the barstool directly across from me and rested his forearms on the counter. He had something to say, maybe something about my elephant, or maybe many, many elephants I didn’t know existed. His brows furrowed, and he sighed—a whole lot of elephants.

“I have some good news and some bad news.”

I frowned at my black coffee. “Worse news than your lack of dairy products?”

“It’s a close second.”

“Okay, bad news first.”

He quirked a brow. “Really? You usually prefer good news first.”

I shrugged. “I like to take a ride on the wild side.”

“Okay.” He braced himself for the impact of my reaction, afraid to say the words. When he spoke, the delivery was slow and tentative. “Elton went back to New York. Indefinitely.”

My face dropped. I hadn’t thought about Elton all morning, and the memory of what happened with him hit me in the gut. Jaxson must have seen my expression, so he added, “We’ll make do without him. We still have Morris.”

This was all my fault. Every hope, every wish I had for Harriet fell to the bottom of my sad heart, only to be replaced by the sour taste Elton left behind. All this time I’d encouraged Harriet, certain of Elton’s affection for her. How could I have missed the cues? The glances he threw our way, the little compliments, the song he wrote. He meant them for me. What a dodgy prat. What would I say to Harriet? To Stella? Oh, the whole thing was a dog’s dinner. Not even that—Elton wasn’t a dog person. He didn’t appreciate the adorable Bouji Chihuahua I had for him named Harriet. How dare he hit on me when I was clearly putting my gorgeous friend in his path?

I was so, so, so wrong. Abominably wrong. Epically wrong. Horrendously wrong. Poor Harriet. True, Elton was a prat, but I was the one to advise Harriet’s attachment. I was the one to inspire the match in the first place. And to think Elton had the hots for me all along. He propositioned me, for crying out loud. How does one break that kind of news to a trusting friend?

Sorry, the bloke you like doesn’t fancy you—he just fancies a shag.

“Ah, bollocks.”

“Emma!”

“Jax, I’m a fraud. I’m never matchmaking again. Ever.”

“Ever? Kind of like you’ll never eat seafood again?”

I nodded furiously, threatened by the sting of tears.

“This is all my fault, and now I’ve ruined your movie.” I couldn’t hold them back. The tears were just too persistent, the buggers. Jaxson rounded the kitchen island and gathered me in a gentle hug. My senses were on high alert with the feel of his skin, the scent of his man smell, and the warmth of his embrace. I wasn’t sure if I should hug him back or not. I was afraid my fingers would betray me. I let my hands hang to my sides. I did bury my nose in his neck, though. I’m not that daft.

“There, there,” he said in a soothing tone. “You didn’t ruin the movie. What makes you think that?”

I pulled away from him to focus on his face; I didn’t want to use his chest hair as a hankie.

“You were right, Jax,” I exclaimed. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I looked into his beautiful eyes and admitted defeat. “Elton… is a cat person.”

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t the understanding expression when he said, “I know.”

“You know?”

He sighed, smiling tenderly, and ran soft strokes along my hair. “Emma, anybody could see that guy was into you. Sometimes I wonder if you’re clueless or just modest?”

“Clueless, apparently,” I said with a pout.

“Hey, I still have the good news. Want to hear it?”

“Does it involve a cave I can crawl into—or ice cream?”

“Not quite so exciting, I’m afraid, but good news just the same.” He winked, and heaven help me, if that man had any mercy, he’d put a shirt on that sculpted chest.

I squeezed my fingers over my temples. “Jaxson Knightly, if you bought another karaoke bar, I swear—”

“No. I may be daft, but I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not going to fall into your good news, bad news trap again. Jig’s up, smiley. You can turn off the smoulder now because I’m on to you.”

“The smoulder?” He took a step closer to me, almost pushing my legs aside to invade my space. “Like this?” He made the most ridiculous flirty face I’d ever seen and wagged his brows. I smacked his leg with my foot.

“Stop that. Just tell me your ‘good news’ that isn’t really good news at all.” I used air quotes. “And for goodness sakes, put on a shirt.”

He guffawed, striving to respond between peals of laughter. “You… this… does this bother you?”

“Yes! Good heavens, nobody wants to see that. My eyeballs are bleeding.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

He was gone maybe three seconds, hardly enough time to ease the burning in my cheeks. When he returned, he had on a leather jacket, wearing it wide open like Fabio, flashing his bare chest tauntingly.

“Better?” he teased, sauntering up to my barstool.

“Do you plan to go out like that? Those flannel bottoms really make a fashion statement.”

I reached for the jacket and pulled him close to me with the strength of my fists. His lips parted with amused astonishment, and his hands moved reflexively to my knees. His eyes searched mine, dipping momentarily to my lips. My heart raced to the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, and I