The Bookshop On the Corner (A Gingerbread Cafe Story)
“I was late. Dashing to my car, I cursed and muttered to myself. For some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t sleep last night. Instead I’d stayed up far too late reading under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, often getting to the end of a page and having to start over because I hadn’t taken a word in.
It was that blasted reporter.
The hero in the book I’d been reading reminded me of him, so instead of focusing on the words in front of me I’d become lost inside my mind, etching out my own visions with hero Ridge as the misunderstood big-town reporter set on stealing my heart — I mean the heroine’s heart.
Did most people put themselves in the place of their heroines? Picturing themselves going through the trials and tribulations of the character? To me it seemed a completely normal habit, but maybe I was bonkers. No time to contemplate; I made a mental note to blog about it as I jammed the key in the ignition of my hatchback and set off for work.
I parked out front, and rushed to the bookshop.
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