Bad English (EBOOK)
The first chapter of my happily ever after just walked into my class.... only he's competing for my job. Talk about a plot twist.
Enid
I'm not the kind of woman people remember. Or talk about. Or see. I mean, I've been mistaken for a chair—more than once.
I was okay being a wallflower, a bluestocking, a spinster-in-waiting. I dedicated myself to my work, and I was satisfied with my life. Happy even.
Or at least I was, until Henry.
Now I want to be seen. I want the love story. I want the hero who only has eyes for me.
Except he's been invited to apply for the job I was promised. As perfect as this romance-reading-tea-sipping-Brit may be, there's no way in hell I'm letting him win.
I thought this would be our love story. I think it's about to turn into a true crime.
Warning: This happily-ever-after involved book quotes, fangirling, and a man who reads romance. Hold on to your paperbacks, this book has all the makings of a classic lovestory!
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Enid
“I am powerful. I am strong. I am knowledgeable. I am enough.”
I stared at the woman in the mirror, trying to find an ounce of the confidence and self-possession my words contained.
Mousy brown hair that had a tendency to frizz, thick glasses framing plain brown eyes, pale skin painted with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of a too-big nose. The rest of my body matched my nose— lips far too big for my face, curves too generous sat on a body shaped less like an hourglass and more like a slightly dimply rectangle.
I opened my mouth, reciting the mantra again.
“I am powerful. I am strong. I am knowledgeable. I am enough.”
I squinted at myself, hoping to see a little bubble of… change, perhaps? Maybe even a little glow as my body presented externally with a new level of confidence.
Instead, an eyelash fluttered to land on my cheek.
I sighed, lifting my glasses to brush the stray away.
Maybe tomorrow.
With determination, I straightened my shoulders, shoving away from the sink.
“Today I am the master of my own destiny.”
I needed to believe that. I needed the confidence and the assurance that I could control the outcomes of the next six weeks.
“Enid? Are you okay?” My roommate’s muffled question floated through the closed door, followed by a gentle knock. “Should I be worried? You’ve been in there an awfully long time.”
“I’m fine, Keiko. Just… thinking.”
I could feel her unasked question radiating through the door.
What are you thinking so hard about?
My answer would be something fluffy, like my next lecture, or what books I’d assign my students to read during the holiday break. But in reality, my thoughts were a cycle of torment, and all because of one sweet-talking-romance-reading-deliciously-gorgeous-tea-sipping-literary-master Brit.
Henry Tenil. The superstar from across the pond.
“Alright,” Keiko said finally, her tone implying that all was not right. “I’m leaving for work. Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Will do!” I tried to inject positivity into my voice knowing I probably sounded as ridiculous as I felt. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
I listened as she bumped around the house for a moment, then closed our front door, silence descending in her wake.
“Okay, Enid. It’s time to woman up. Let’s put on the grandmother underwear and come to terms with what is about to happen. You’re about to meet the man who you’ve fantasized about for years. You’re about to meet a man who makes your insides watery. You’re about to meet the one person in the world who convinced you to sign up for social media.”
I swallowed, seeing the flush on my cheeks.
“You can’t fangirl. You can’t freak out. You need to be professional—not starry-eyed. You can do this, Enid. You’re a badass bitch.” I paused, not liking that term. “Scratch that. You’re a badass boss woman who knows exactly what she wants and is willing to work to get it. And Henry being here is just another step to getting what you want. And what do we want?” I leaned into the mirror, giving myself a squinty-eyed glare. “Tenure. We’ve worked too hard for too long to allow this to all fall to pieces because of a little crush.”
Or not so little, if I’m honest.
“Let’s get over our infatuation the only way one truly can—by meeting their hero and being solidly underwhelmed by the experience.”
I considered myself in the mirror for a moment.
Do I believe any of that?
“Yes, I do.”’ With a brisk nod, I left the bathroom, shoulders back, head high—only to promptly slip on a stray sock left by Keiko’s cat.
My legs slipped out from under me, my body flying through the air, and on the way down to the polished wood floor, I had only one thing I knew for sure.
This isn’t a good sign.
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