Nerd Girl
Authors: Jemma Bell
Nerd Girl
Jemma Bell
Copyright © 2015 Jemma Bell
ISBN-13: 978-1514174159
ISBN-10: 1514174154
Nerd Girl
Editor: Brandi Beers and Stacey Kennedy
Cover Designer: JABello
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduction, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) utilization of this work without written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been uses without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
For questions or comments about this book, please contact the author at
[email protected]
© Jemma Bell
Dedicated to G.E.M.
They know why.
Table of Contents
Chapter #1
Nerd Girl Problem #101
That moment when you awkwardly run into the sexiest man you have ever seen while he’s hiding in the men’s room. Yes, I did say men’s room. You’re probably wondering how I, a girl, am in the men’s room with said sexy man. You see, this is my luck or rather bad luck.
D
o I have your attention? Good. My name is Amy Jenkins, I wear glasses, ponytails and no make-up. I’m more comfortable in flats than heels, jeans than skirts and the sexiest items in my wardrobe are my underwear. Sure, if I made a little effort with make-up, I might look less granola and maybe even pass for pretty, but it just takes up too much time for no reason. That time could be better spent with my nose in a best selling novel. I am a self-proclaimed Nerd Girl.
I have had exactly one boyfriend that lasted long enough for me to lose my virginity and for him to move on to someone else. After said bad relationship I turned to reading. I read. A lot. I read so much that some might call me a book whore. I can read about a book boyfriend who is a gritty biker in a motorcycle club or a sexy drummer in a world famous band. He can be a military man with a bad case of PTSD or a billionaire with a fetish for bondage and spanking. Any way you slice it, multiple book boyfriends are a hell of a lot safer to my feelings than one living, breathing, idiot who will eventually break my heart.
I traveled from where I live in New Jersey to Philadelphia for an author signing when I found out my favorite author Anita Wells was going to be there. I had all of Anita’s books, and I wanted to meet her and get her to sign them. This event is very popular. Over 100 world famous New York Times bestselling authors are here today. Some authors even brought the model/muse that graces the cover of their book, so there’s some nice eye candy here as well.
I’d been here for a few hours already. Bouncing from author to author and chugging a giant bottle of water. With this many people in one place, it’s incredibly hot, and all the walking around makes you thirsty. Just as I think my bladder is going to burst, I spot the restrooms. Of course, it never fails that when you need to pee, there is always a line in the ladies room. After waiting for 15 minutes in a line that moved three inches, I decided to sneak into the men’s room that no one had entered or exited in the last ten minutes. When you gotta go, you gotta go. I think I set a record. It was while I was washing my hands that he stumbled through the door with what looked like a mob of women after him. Dark, brown hair sculpted into a cool short fauxhawk and an ass made for those faded Levis. I stood in awe of him as he braced his large, tanned hand against the door and used his other to turn the lock quickly. He panted and backed away from the door right into my drooling self. I tumbled to the floor with fabulous fauxhawk guy flattening me like a pancake.
“Ooof,” I groaned.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed. Scrambling up off me and the floor he turns around and flattens me again with sinful whiskey colored eyes.
“Holy shit! Miss, are you okay?” He asks me. The pounding on the door and the chanting of “Derrick, Derrick” snaps me out of my stupor.
“Um, yeah, yeah I think so. Did you hurt your butt? I mean… I think I hurt my butt.” I correct quickly. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a quirk of his lips. Reaching down, he helps hoist me up off the floor. I proceed to push my glasses further up my nose and reach back to dust off my rear end when I notice a hand already snatching the stray toilet paper off my jean clad derriere.
“Um, you had a little something attached to your…,” He finishes by pointing to my butt.
“Thanks,” I return. He gives a slight smile, but there is a sparkle in his eye.
“I could have sworn I ran into the men’s room to hide from that mob out there.” He says while eyeing up the door “I guess I picked the wrong door.”
“No, you picked the right door, I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I answer him.
Quirking his eyebrow higher and giving me a real smile this time, he responds with a laugh, “Okay then, if I’m in the right place and you’re in the wrong one…”
“I needed to pee!” I interrupt his question. “There’s always a line in the ladie’s room, so I figured because nobody came in or out of here for the last ten minutes, I’d get in, do my thing, and get out. I didn’t expect to get caught or trapped in the men’s room with…you must be Derrick.” I figured as much from the chanting still going strong on the other side of the door.
“Yeah, I’m Derrick Walker.” He responds while holding his hand out for me to shake.
“Amy Jenkins and they must be your fan club,” I say pointing to the door with one hand and shaking his with the other. Derrick gives the door a quick glance, and I feel him shudder just a tad.
“I guess you can call them that…bunch of horny housewives and lonely book nerds. I’m a cover model for Anita Wells.”
OMG, I’ve never seen his face, just shots of his incredible body, tight abs, strong chin, drool-worthy “V” and incredible pecs. I also know that beneath the white thermal Henley he’s wearing, his nipples are pierced. He’s the hottie that graces the cover of all seven of my favorite books and has given me many nights of fantasies. Wait a second, did he just say that? Horny housewives and lonely book nerds? The nerve of this meathead!!! He might be gorgeous and have a fabulous body, but his attitude for the women who buy the books he’s getting paid to model for completely sucks. I quickly pull my hand back wiping it on my jeans.
“Are you an author?” He asks.
I give him the stink eye and reply “No, I’m one of the
lonely book nerds
!”
“Oops, my bad,” he says, “I don’t know if I would lump you in that category. You sort of have a sexy librarian thing going on.” He smiles at me confidently while taking in my dark wash jeans and white V-neck sweater. I still can’t believe this guy. He’s gorgeous and totally drool worthy, but he insults me one minute and then tries to flirt with me the next. I don’t know whether to be flattered or irritated.
“Well, Derrick, it was interesting running into you. Literally.” As I turn to make my way to the door, I feel a hand wrap around my upper arm.
“Hang on a second, why are you so prickly? That wasn’t meant as an insult.” I blink at his hand wrapped around my arm up to his eyes. “I find it rather funny that you almost seem inconvenienced to have run into me. Most girls make it a habit of purposely getting in my way.”
“Well then, maybe I’ve done you a favor by deflating your ego a bit so you’ll be able to fit back out that door,” I reply raising my eyebrow. I give him one last body scan from his toes to those dreamy eyes. The shouts and banging on the door have quieted a fraction by now. I wonder if security had to come and break up the mob.
“I know what I look like,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “A well-conditioned body is a thing of beauty. I work hard to look like this; It’s one hell of an intense job and takes dedication.”
“I can’t deny that you look good, Derrick. I have a book or two that you grace the cover of,” (or seven, I admit only to myself, with an eye roll). “I know I’m a book nerd, but having my book boyfriend imply that I’m pathetic kind of ruins the image, you know?” I argue while crossing my arms across my body.
“Hold on just one second, come back here,” he says as I turn to leave again. “I think I recall saying you resembled a sexy librarian.” Running his fingers through his faux hawk just makes it a tad messier and a mile sexier. “With that look, I thought you were one of the authors at this event. I’m sorry if you took my comment the wrong way. I didn’t mean to offend you.” There is now silence from the other side of the door.
“Its fine, no problem. Nice meeting you, even under these conditions and circumstances. Good luck.”
“Well, next time we meet, perhaps we’ll have a longer opportunity to talk without my fan club trying to beat down the door.” The smug smile on his face is incredibly sexy, but it just ticks my bullshit meter up a few notches irritating me even more.
“What makes you think we will ever run into each other again?” I inquire indignantly.
“You’re here for the event, are you not?” Derrick replies with another quirk of that eyebrow.
“Yes,” I say cautiously.
“Then I’ll see you out there. Anita, and I are at table 27. Stop by for some awesome swag and a couple autographs,” he says and winks at me.
With that, Derrick breezes past me to the door. He stops for a moment to listen for the mob, unlocks the door and takes a peek. I assume the coast is clear as he opens the door wider and steps out, leaving me alone in the men’s room. Collapsing against the sink, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: flushed cheeks and shiny eyes. I think I just swooned. I turn on the taps and splash cool water on my face. As my luck would have it, some poor guy walks in on me, again. The look of shock on his face is priceless, he even takes another look at the door sign to make sure he’s in the right place. “I’m going, I’m going. You’re supposed to be here buddy, not me.” And with that, I make my exit with all the grace I can muster, and that would be none.
Chapter #2
Nerd Girl Problem #102
Having a gutsy, take, no prisoners best friend who wants to get you laid in the worst way possible. Prepare for total humiliation.
T
he event is well underway as I pick my way through the crowds looking for my best friend, Layla. The Grand Atrium is bursting with all kinds of people. Bloggers, agents, fans, assistants and, of course, those sexy, oh so sexy cover models. As promised, I spot her next to the life-size banner of Jackson Kent. His beautiful self is currently displayed as a swashbuckling pirate gracing the cover of Brandi Parsons newest historical romance. Trying to navigate to that spot is proving almost a mission impossible. I can see her bleached blonde pixie cut with the purple streaks on the front spikes scanning the crowd for me. Think of the singer “Pink” and you’ve got Layla in a nutshell. With some careful maneuvering and some not so gentle shouldering, I finally reach her.
“Girl, where you been? I almost thought you fell in and got flushed away you were gone so long,” she says with an eye roll. “I was this close to sending out a search party,” she continues showing her thumb and pointer finger just a little bit apart.
“Layla, don’t start with me, you have no idea,” I reply with a huff. I quickly educate her on the events of my life for the last ten minutes and watch the shit-eating grin on her face get wider and wider.
“No way, Jenks, you met your favorite book crush in person? Shit like this doesn’t happen every day,” she gushes “Was he a decent guy or a complete meathead?” she asks. I cringe inside as she refers to me as ‘Jenks’, her pet nickname for me since the seventh grade when she pathetically attempted to corrupt my goody, goody image and make me appear less of a geek.
“Well, he seemed a little uncomfortable with the whole adoring fangirl thing, but in the same breath he was slightly arrogant,” I answer.
“Only slightly? Jenks, you know what he looks like. I’m sure he knows what he looks like. I’d be surprised if he weren't completely self-absorbed. The fact that you were face to face with him and had a convo should add to your shower nozzle fantasies for a year.”
“OMG, you are such a twat! I already waste enough time reading about him.”
Thinking about him,
I admit only to myself.
“
Granted, he is super-hot, I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers, but I don’t know… fantasy is so much different from reality. Perhaps under different circumstances and without the mob of fangirls after him, things would have been more…interesting.” Reaching over, I grab the handle of my small book cart. Layla guarded it for me while I was indisposed. All my Anita Wells books are in there and I wanted to get them signed by her. See I told you, book nerd.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out. We need autographs for all these books and he’s here with Anita. Move it, sister, time is wasting,” Layla exclaims, as she grabs my elbow and starts steering me through the crowds and lines of other fans waiting to purchase books, get autographs, and pick up some awesome promotional swag from their favorite story tellers.
One thing you need to know about Layla is that she always rises to a challenge and never backs down. She’s the complete opposite of me. I usually agree to disagree or bow out gracefully. Layla is obviously on a mission to see if Derrick; Yummy Derrick, Tasty Abs Derrick; and I, the Nerd Girl, have any chemistry from our short interlude in the men’s room. Ah, what a beginning to a fabulous love story. Sounds like the stuff of romantic movies.
The Notebook, Twilight, Cinderella.
Sure, why not “My Restroom Romance?” That is of course if he even recalls seeing my face.
As Layla plows through the crowds, not caring one bit that she keeps stepping on people’s feet with her black Dr. Martens, I try to keep up. Dragging my cart behind me is a bit of a hindrance. I’ve lost my cute kitty cat faced ballet flats twice and created a human speed bump in the flow of people in the aisle as I try to retrieve them. My drill sergeant of a best friend just pauses long enough and then continues her march to table number twenty-seven.
There’s a long, wide barrier of ladies lined up along the inside of the aisle. Layla, walks right up to a bored looking woman and asks her, “Hey, whose line is this?” Such a gentle soul that she is, so polite. Not! The woman rolls her eyes and replies back “Anita Wells and Derrick Walker. The end of the line is behind me.” I see Layla nibble on her upper lip, a sure indicator that she is holding in a snarky comment. I quickly interrupt the two and say “Thanks, that’s the line we needed.” Taking up a position in line we move slowly. I manage to pick up a few promotional key chains and a few of those rubber bracelets from a couple new Indie authors as we inch closer to Derrick…I mean Anita. We’re close enough that I can now see her autographing copies of her books and smiling as she poses for pictures with fans. I can’t see Derrick yet, but I can hear whoops, whistles and catcalls from the large group ladies off to the side. When we finally reach the table I turn to my cart and retrieve my books so she can sign them. I’ve already placed a sticky note on the inside cover of each book with my name spelled out so to save her the time asking me.
“You have the whole collection I see,” Anita says to me with a bright smile. “Feel free to pick up some swag. We also have t-shirts on sale promoting the next book in the series.” Anita begins to sign my books with a silver sharpie. I pick up a couple bookmarks featuring some of the book covers and a few pins to add to my messenger bag. Layla has already bought us each one of the t-shirts that, of course, have Derrick gracing the front. Nudging me in the side, Layla whispers “I got you a larger size so you can sleep with him every night.” She knows me so well; I only ever sleep in t-shirts and boxer shorts.
Anita is gracious as she poses for pictures with me and Layla. She obviously appreciates her fans. I ask Anita when the next book is due out, she winks and says, “Soon,” as she hands me back my signed copies. I thank her and turn to find Layla. Of course, she’s now in the boisterous group next to table 27. I can see what’s happening now. Derrick is posing for pictures and smiling from ear to ear as he flirts with all the ladies feeling up his pecs and squeezing his glorious ass. I attempt to hang back out of sight, but Layla will have none of that. She again shoulders her way through the crowd of…what did he call them? Horny housewives and lonely book nerds?... All the shuffling around gets Derrick’s attention and he looks in our direction. It takes all of a glance for him to recognize me. His eyebrow quirks and a crooked grin replaces the toothy smile.
“Excuse me ladies but my favorite librarian just shuffled through and I need to speak with her,” he says to the masses. Like the Red Sea, the fan girls part and I’m left standing in the open with a look of shock on my face. With a not so subtle shove from Layla, I stumble forward and land on my hands and knees, right in front of him and about a hundred others. “That’s the second time you’ve fallen for me today!” Derrick says with a laugh, clapping his hand around my elbow to help me up. Once I’m back on my feet, he gives me a once over from my eyes to my boobs to my toes. Subtly he pulls me into his chest and whispers in my ear, “Definitely a sexy librarian.” Holy shit. He thinks I’m sexy! And, my god, does he smell fantastic! All spicy and manly. “I told you we’d meet again. Too bad for the fan girls still hanging around.”
I clench my teeth and fake a smile, “Too bad your ego is still hanging around, too.” That comment makes him smile wider.
“Hey, Derrick, can I get a picture of you and my pal Jenks here?” Layla inquires. “She’s a huge fan of your body, I mean work.” Ok then, I need a huge hole in the floor to open up and swallow me. Right now! Closing my eyes for a few seconds to absorb the embarrassment, I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. He’s clearly entertained. Meeting him in the men’s room, falling at his feet, and now, him hearing my ridiculous nickname, my dignity is completely trampled into this cheap, psychedelic looking, beige carpet.
“Jenks?” he asks.
“Yeah, sugar lips, its short for her last name, Jenkins.” Layla fills him in. Whiskey colored eyes sparkle down at me: he is a few inches taller than my 5’5” frame. I push my glasses up my nose and correct both of them.
“Amy Jenkins, like I told you earlier.”
With a chuckle, he says “Well, Miss Jenkins let’s take our picture, shall we?” We pose in front of Anita’s banner, with Derrick’s arm around my lower waist.
“Alright, beautiful people show me some teeth,” Layla shouts. “Jenks, a smile please, not a look of constipation,” If looks could kill, Layla would be dead in a ditch right now. I manage to smile pathetically and get the picture over and done with. As I step away from my favorite book boyfriend, I feel his hand breeze over my rear. Hmm, must have been an accident. The line of women waiting for their turn with Derrick is getting very antsy and I see Layla getting her
“Don’t mess with me face”
on. As I turn to go retrieve my cart again, I feel Derrick squeeze a business card into my hand.
“You can follow me on Twitter and Instagram. I love to hear from fans of my body, I mean work,” he says with a flirty grin and a wink. “Feel free to post these photos on my Facebook page as well; it’s great for promotions.” We are having a moment right now; one of those moments that you wish would go on forever, but somebody always screws up for you.
“Alright, Derrick, we have lots of other ladies waiting for a piece of your time, this young lady surely knows you are incredibly busy and in demand at the moment.” Enter the dragon lady. A cool, sophisticated looking woman in an expensive suit pushes between us. She looks like Business Woman Barbie. Flashing icy blues at me, I get the stink eye and a once over where she obviously finds me lacking in some way. “Run along now, love.” She says to me with a flick of her hand. Shrewdly she pushes him back toward the crowd.
“Mitzi, I was talking to that girl,” Derrick argues.
“Pick up a piece of ass on your own time, Derrick. This is my time, now get your gorgeous self, back to work.” She answers with a snap of her well-manicured hand and a flick of her long, blonde hair. With one last glance in my direction, he leaves me standing there with my mouth hanging open as he rejoins his horde of adoring ladies at the behest of whoever the hell “Mitzi” is.
