Chapter Two
The Playboy—Why We Love to Hate Him (and then love him)
Annie tapped her finger against her bottom lip as she read over yesterday’s post, pausing at the last line.
It is in the heroine that we see the playboy redeemed—that he is, in fact, capable of love. And it’s in this trope we see love truly does conquer all. And that, my friends, is why we love to hate—and then fall in love with—the player hero in romance. As always, it’s time to share, so lay it on me. Who’s your favorite romance playboy?
She took a deep breath. After all, she knew her posts were good, that they were always on point with current discussions in romance. That’s how the HappyEverAfter blog was born and how she’d amassed a 5k following. Sure, it was modest in the grand scheme of things, but she’d started the blog for herself once she’d fallen in hard love with romance and found she needed an outlet. Now she had daily conversations about her favorite genre—albeit with people she’d never met—and the blog filled a void she hadn’t been able to before. But the comments—it was always terrifying to read the first few. Did her readers agree? Disagree? Had a romance resistant troll hunted her down just to make trouble? While the latter rarely happened, it was an inherent truth of the book blogging community, which was why she kept a hefty folder of “Haters gonna hate” memes on her desktop—always her favorite troll reply.
COMMENTS:
HEAlove says: So much yes to this post. I adore the player because his redemption is everything. I have to say, though, that my favorite one is a bit unconventional. I’m head over heels for Ethan in Wes Hartley’s DOWN THIS ROAD. Like, I can’t get that book out of my head. Tell me you’re going to review it here because I’m dying to hear what you think!
11:01 a.m.
Well…not a troll, but not what she was hoping for. Annie read on.
Bookluvr says: Ditto HEAlove! I just finished DTR last night and ugh! Total book hangover. Ethan is so the player I love to hate—and then fall for in the end.
11: 25 a.m.
She rolled her eyes. Surely the next example would be someone other than Ethan from Down This Road.
Romreader says: Okay, so I know this book doesn’t follow the conventional “rules” of romance, but how can you not swoon for Ethan? Every woman he’s with thinks she’s got everything she ever wanted. He’s cocky, arrogant, and an amazing lover. So what if he doesn’t believe in the HEA and leaves them all? When he does, he unwittingly leaves a piece of himself behind, too, because no matter how much he tries to keep them out when he has sex with them, he lets himself feel. SPOILER WARNING, but since we all read (Annie tell us you read!!!), I don’t care that he ends up alone or that he broke my heart with every heart he broke. He’s ridic sexy, and he made me feel all of the feels. Ethan FTW!
12:16 p.m.
15 more replies…
Annie stifled a scream. It would be one thing if the author was some nameless, arrogant ass. But she’d known him once—long ago. And he’d grown into this arrogant ass who was distorting her poor romance readers’ views of a good love story. She pushed back from her desk with too much force, her rolling chair catching the lip of the rug and sending her toppling over.
“I’m okay!” she said, springing to her feet, only to have Brynn—her best friend and account manager—spin toward her and raise a brow.
“You read the comments,” Brynn said drily.
Annie righted her chair and plopped back down into it. “I have to read the comments. It’s my blog. I write the posts. I read the comments. And I reply. It’s called good blogger etiquette,” she said. She used her heels to scoot her chair back to the desk. “Plus, it’s also free advertising for Two Stories, and you know how much we need that.”
Brynn winced. If anyone knew how hard it was to keep an independent bookstore afloat, it was the woman who made the bank deposits each day.
“Okay,” Brynn said. “You’ve got a point there. But what’s got your panties in a bunch this morning? I think someone needs a caramel apple cider run.”
Annie huffed out a breath. “I do need a cider, but first things first. You know that post that went live yesterday, the one about the playboy hero trope?” Brynn nodded. “Well, I always ask for a reader response at the end, so naturally I asked them to share their favorite playboy heroes.”
Brynn nodded again. “I’m liking where this is going. Ready to add them all to my TBR.”
Annie shook her head. “Do you remember that book by my brother’s old high school friend, Wes Hartley?”
Brynn threw back her head and laughed. “The one who said he had to get out of Chicago, that only New York was the creative epicenter for young artists?” Brynn rolled her eyes and groaned. “You hated that one! Oh God. Don’t tell me your blog is an inadvertent love fest for the book you love to hate.”
Annie groaned. “You know I don’t love to hate anything. Especially in public. I’m a bookseller. I talk about books I love but never disparage those I don’t. But, crap. I guess Down This Road has had a resurgence in sales from the paperback release because more than half my comments were about the readers’ undying love for the hero, Ethan.” She cleared her throat. “And I use the term hero lightly. Because, duh—no happily ever after—and I can’t even feel bad for him. He brings it all upon himself. I just—no. Hard no on that book.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” Brynn said with a grin.
Annie threw her hands in the air. “I know you don’t share my affinity for the romance novel, but geez!” She was up and pacing now. “You still get it.”
“Get what?” Brynn asked with brows raised.
“That love can, in fact, conquer all if you’re not such an idiot that you refuse to let it in.”
Brynn crossed her arms. “Like me and Jamie were for ten years.”
“Yes!” Annie halted mid-pace. “You guys were 100 percent, certifiable, bona fide idiots.”
Brynn opened her mouth to protest but then pressed her lips back together. “You’re right. We were the worst. But now we’re the best.” A dreamy smile took over her features.
“Exactly!” Annie pointed at her friend. “Just like all good romance heroes and heroines, when you two were ready to say ‘fuck you’ to fear and open yourselves up to the possibility of something more—”
“Fireworks,” Brynn interrupted. “It was fireworks.”
Annie held her head high. “Thanks to me giving you guys a push—and what I know was an epically romantic road trip.” She collapsed back into her chair. “That’s what’s wrong with Wes Hartley’s not-a-romance. This maddening character, Ethan, has women swooning for him right and left, almost all of them saying they love him—and he never returns the sentiment. Other than some pretty sensational sex scenes…” She fanned herself. After all, she would give credit where credit was due. “…Ethan, the not-a-romance-hero, is the most shallow, vapid, self-serving fictional human I’ve ever read. He takes and takes and takes but claims he cannot give.”
“Except in the bedroom,” Brynn reminded her with a wry smile. “Maybe that’s why the women keep coming.” She snorted. “Pun totally unintended, but I think it’s one of my best.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “There’s no way he’s as skilled as his character. It’s gotta be some sort of wish fulfillment, right? Compensation for the part of his life that’s lacking?”
“Sounds about right,” Brynn said. “Why don’t you write a blog post about it? Sex-starved Author Makes Up For Incompetence in the Boudoir With Debut NON-Romance Novel.”
Annie blew her hair out of her eyes. “You know I can’t alienate readers. They’re all potential customers, too.” If there was one thing Annie loved, it was finding out one of her bookshop patrons learned about the store from her blog. “But lucky you, being my friend and all, you get to hear me rant one on one!”
Brynn offered her a small bow from her office chair. “The honor is all mine.”
“Good,” Annie said. “Because I could go for hours.”
Brynn raised a brow. “And apparently so can Hartley’s not-a-hero? I mean, I’m just assuming based on those sensational sex scenes.”
They both laughed, and Annie closed her laptop. She’d be opening the shop in fifteen minutes, and Brynn was right. She did need a caramel apple cider to set the morning right.
“I’m headed to Hot Latte,” she said to her friend and partner in crime. “Want anything?”
“Pumpkin spice anything will do,” Brynn said, and Annie made a dramatic gagging sound. Brynn rolled her eyes.
“I just don’t get why autumn means everything has to taste like pumpkin.”
Brynn spun back to her own laptop, no doubt finishing up with Friday’s deposit so she could bring it to the bank this morning.
Annie knew she was setting herself up for more disappointment, but she had to ask. “How’d we do this week?” She watched as Brynn’s shoulders slumped.
“We’re a little short,” her friend said, not turning to face her. And Annie was glad for it. Brynn had taken some side jobs lately—like helping Doug and Dan, the owners of Hot Latte, with their quarterly tax payments. Sales just weren’t where they needed to be, and Annie wasn’t sure if she’d be able to pay Brynn her full fee. Again.
Annie cleared her throat. “Right. So—pumpkin. On me.” Like a latte could make up for her best friend trying to steer a financial sinking ship.
“Because life is better with pumpkin spice,” Brynn said cheerily, leaning over her shoulder to offer Annie a conciliatory smile. “Hey, have you ever thought about doing something other than books?”
Annie gasped, but Brynn shook her head.
“I don’t mean give up the store. But maybe host events with local authors. It shouldn’t cost you anything other than ordering stock. I bet that would get more people in the door.”
Annie grabbed her travel mug and headed for the door. “I sell books, B. I’m not a party planner.”
Her shoulders slumped. It was actually a good idea. But it also meant stepping outside her comfort zone and trying something that could fail. She’d already done that opening her own bookshop, and that day three years ago was the happiest of her life. What if she couldn’t do what was necessary, though, to keep the place afloat long-term?
Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Brynn had miscalculated. Or maybe today would bring some big bump in sales. It wasn’t just the steady decline in recent proceeds, though. That book, Wes Hartley’s book—and the blog comments—had gotten under her skin.
Who didn’t believe in happily ever after?
Wes Hartley, that’s who.
Just because Annie hadn’t found hers yet didn’t mean it wasn’t out there, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
She marched out of the bookshop with renewed purpose and satisfaction. A Hot Latte run always set the world back on its axis. It was also a comfort to know that, despite that year in high school when their paths had crossed, she’d never come face-to-face with Wes Hartley again, other than the caricature on the jacket of the most hopeless book that was not—in fact—a romance.