It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,22

great as well—all of them kind and well-adjusted. Each of us wanted her for a mom, including Jennifer, who was about a decade older than June.

“Read a line and I’ll rework it,” Heather said, rubbing her hands together with glee.

Heather loved a challenge. I was quite sure she could level a romance novel just like she could take down an empire.

“Oh my God,” Missy muttered with a laugh as she made coffee for everyone. “If a customer comes in, you have to shut your traps. I need to sell those books.”

“Deal,” Heather promised. “June, give me a line—a sexy line.”

Paging through the book she’d picked up, June giggled and blushed. “Okay, here’s one. She had breasts like a tempestuous goddess and I lusted to ravish her.”

“That’s kind of grammatically warped. Does it even make sense?” I asked, pulling a rubber bone out of my purse for Donna so she didn’t chew up a book.

“Nope, not a bit of sense, but I’d do him,” Jennifer commented.

“He doesn’t exist,” Heather said with an eye roll. “Here’s the more accurate version. She had knockers like a middle-aged librarian and I hankered to grope her.”

“I’d do that guy too,” Jennifer said with a cackle. “At my age, I’ll take whatever groping I can get.”

“I’m having déjà poo,” Missy said.

“Don’t you mean déjà vu?” I asked with a grin as I kept a close eye on Donna. We didn’t need an accident in Missy’s shop.

“Nope. I meant déjà poo,” Missy confirmed. “The distinct feeling I’ve heard this crap before. About six months ago, June and Heather had a go at the children’s book section. Heather made Dr. Seuss sound like a freaking pervert.”

“I’m that good,” Heather announced with pride.

“Or that bad,” Missy added with a laugh.

“That too,” Heather acknowledged with a bow. “Give me another, June.”

“Here’s one,” June said, making herself comfortable on a cozy chair in the reading nook. “Her silken thighs were mesmerizing and I longed to worship her womanhood.”

“Oh my God,” I said, shaking my head. “Her womanhood? Worship her womanhood? Really?”

“Hang on,” Heather said. “I’m going to fix that one up. Her cellulite-ridden thighs were boner-inducing because a change in the wind was boner-inducing to a randy idiot like myself. And I pined to bang her for as long as my manhood could please her, which will be about ten seconds before I blow my wad.”

I choked on my coffee. Heather was all kinds of awful, and hilarious to boot.

“How about this?” Jennifer asked. “She had a butt like a juicy mango and I hungered to raw dog it with her.”

“You win for most disgusting,” Heather told Jennifer with a laugh.

“I know! Right?” Jennifer sang and pumped her little fists in the air.

“You guys could write one hell of a horrifying romance novel,” Missy said with a groan, passing out scones. “Remind me not to carry this masterpiece in the shop if you ever completely lose your minds and actually write it.”

“Will do,” Heather replied. “We’d have to use fake names. I could get run out of town for something like this. Daisy, you do one.”

“I suck at romantic stuff,” I protested.

“The whole point is to make it as unromantic as possible,” June pointed out.

My real life was as unromantic as it could get. However, if my embarrassment could make my best friends laugh, I was in. “Fine. But it’s kind of real.”

“Oh my God,” Missy muttered with a laugh. “Is it about the accountant?”

“Yep,” I said, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. I wasn’t as good as Heather. I couldn’t riff without a little planning. “Hang on.”

“Take your time,” Jennifer said. “We have all day since the witch isn’t there.”

“Female point of view. Fairytale genre,” I said, explaining myself.

“Got it,” Heather said with a grin. “You go gurl!”

Looking down at the paper, I went for it. “Once upon a time there was a gal who drank an entire bottle of wine and banged a dude with less personality than a box of hair.”

“Sounds like my ex,” Jennifer volunteered.

“Which one?” Missy asked.

“All of them,” Jennifer replied with a laugh.

“Hush, let her finish,” Heather said.

I went on, gaining confidence due to the grins and the laughter. “After two and a half minutes of contemplative thought, which was thirty seconds longer than his manly performance, she decided that men simply weren’t worth it. Her booty call’s man-junk was so itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny, she wasn’t sure they’d even had sex at all. Not to mention if he was truly into the art of