ZORA BOOKS HER HAPPY EVER AFTER by Taj McCoy
On sale: April 25, 2023
ISBN: 9780778333524
MIRA
Fiction; Romance
320 Pages
ABOUT THE BOOK:
A heart-pounding,
curvy romance about an indie bookstore owner who finds herself in a love
triangle when she meets the author she's had a crush on for years...and his
best friend.
Zora has committed every inch of her life to establishing her thriving DC bookstore,
making it into a pillar of the community, and she just hasn’t had time for
romance. But when a mystery author she’s been crushing on for years agrees to
have an event at her store, she starts to rethink her priorities. Lawrence is
every bit as charming as she imagined, even if his understanding of his own
books seems just a bit shallow. When he asks her out after his reading, she’s
almost elated enough to forget about the grumpy guy who sat next to her making
snide comments all evening. Apparently the grouch is Lawrence’s best friend,
Reid, but she can’t imagine what kind of friendship that must be. They couldn’t
be more different.
But as she starts seeing Lawrence, and spending more and more time with Reid,
Zora finds first impressions can be deceiving. Reid is smart and
thoughtful—he’s also interested. After years of avoiding dating, she suddenly
has two handsome men competing for her affection. But even as she struggles to
choose between them, she can’t shake the feeling that they’re both hiding
something—a mystery she’s determined to solve before she can find her HEA.
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Excerpt
“Well, is he attractive? You know I don’t want no ugly
great-grandbabies.”
“Granny!” Zora laughed, pulling books from the stocking cart
to arrange on the shelving display for the storefront window. The sun poked
through the cloudy morning, threatening to scorch another early September day.
Opus Northeast had been open for less than fifteen minutes, and its owner was
already rolling her eyes. Silly her for making the mistake of mentioning the
man who hit on her as she walked from her parked car into the store. “There’s
no such thing as an ugly baby.”
Granny Marion shook a ruby-red fingernail at her
granddaughter. “Now, I know I taught you better than that. Ain’t no reason to
lie, baby. You know good and well that the li’l girl two doors down from you
has one, bless his heart.”
Zora stifled a snort as she stacked middle-grade fantasy
books next to some young-adult ones. Stories of witches, magic, and other
worlds rich in cultural traditions and majesty. Running her fingers over the
foiled titles of their hardcover jackets, she pictured her younger self staring
into the window in awe, ready to devour each word in the safety of her cozy
bedroom fort. Her parents would shake their heads in amusement before turning
her loose in the children’s section. She’d beg to take home every new story
that she hadn’t previously spent hours poring over, eventually convincing her
parents to allow her a new armful. “That baby is cute. He just has a big head.”
“Hmmph. I think the word you’re looking for is oblong. And
why are his eyes so big?” Granny Marion widened her eyes until they bulged
behind her wire-rimmed glasses, her taut brown skin hugging high cheekbones and
a proud forehead. Her long, salt-and-pepper hair twisted neatly into a bun at
the nape of her neck—a nostalgic reminder of her past as a professional dancer
turned dance teacher. Every move of her petite frame flowed with grace and
intention, even when she ridiculed their neighbor’s newest family addition.
“Granny.” Zora squeezed out from the window front, smoothing
her hands over her shapely figure clad in her usual skinny jeans, camisole and
cardigan—today’s was hip length and plum colored. She loved a layered look, and
her sweater matched her matte lipstick perfectly. “I’m sure he’ll grow into his
features as he gets older.” She leaned down to kiss her grandmother on the
cheek. “Remember, I had to grow into my smile—I had that awful headgear the
orthodontist made me wear.”
For her entire fifth grade year, Zora had been plagued with
jeers and jokes about the metal contraption affixed to her upper jaw to help
with her overbite. Her only reprieve was when she ate, but even then, her
classmates would tease Zora about her protruding front teeth. She’d sit with
her closest friends on benches outside to avoid the meanest kids posted up at
tables in the cafeteria.
Granny Marion kissed her granddaughter back, eyes sparkling.
“Mmm-hmm, I remember. That gear gave you character. But there ain’t no headgear
to fix a misshapen head, baby.”
“Jesus.” Zora shook her head, unable to hide her smile. She
grabbed Granny’s hand, entwining their arms, and led her farther into the
store. “So what are your plans for today?”
They walked past rows of bookshelves, display tables full of
must-read paperbacks, and the checkout counter to a large corner filled with
comfortable furniture for patrons to enjoy their purchases. Four-top tables lit
with antique desk lamps were often filled with college students studying or
local writers needing a change of venue. Against the farthest wall stood a
coffee kiosk operated by a local Black-owned coffee shop and bakery. “I’m going
to grab myself a latte and a breakfast bagel before I enjoy today’s newspaper.”
Granny Marion visited the store daily without fail, only
deviating slightly from her routine when the Kerri’s Coffee kiosk sold
holiday-inspired treats and she craved a holiday spice latte with a splash of
eggnog instead of her regular skim latte. From open to close, Granny was often
the one constant, greeting patrons, playing with kids, sharing her favorite
reads and best cake recipes and reading her morning paper. She set her
newspaper down on her favorite plush, high-backed chair in the reading corner,
winking at the barista as they neared the coffee kiosk. “Hey there, young man,
how you doin’ today?”
As they approached, Brian, a shy college sophomore, circled
in front of the kiosk to wrap his arms around her. “Good morning, Ms. Marion.
I’m doing good. How you doin’?” He waved at Zora. “Hey, Z.”
“What up, B?” Zora slapped him five and grabbed her usual
from the counter—a raspberry cheese Danish and an oat milk latte. Before she
could grill Brian about his upcoming calculus exam, the bell on the front door
jingled. She raised her latte in thanks, and left her grandmother to chat. On
Zora’s way to the front, she picked up a folded paper towel from the floor and
chucked it into a waste bin. “What’s this doing here?”
Rushing in with several bags in her hands and flushed cheeks
was Emma, Zora’s best friend and roommate. Her box braids were swept up into a
high bun and framed by a colorful head wrap. Big hoop earrings barely skimmed
the shoulders of her chambray dress shirt, which was tied at the waist over a
colorful pleated skirt. “Girl. It’s already hot out there—I’m sweating! Now,
don’t get mad. I know I’m late.”
Zora bit into her Danish and chewed, waiting. “I’m not mad.”
Ain’t nothin’ new.
“It’s just that, I don’t even know how to tell you this…”
She shoved her bags into a cabinet under the checkout counter, clenching and
releasing her hands as she shuffled from one foot to the other nervously.
Zora sipped her latte, side-eyeing her friend. Nothing was
new about these antics. “Rip the Band-Aid off, Em.”
She blew out a breath, grimacing. “I think I lost the
inventory tablet. I couldn’t find it last night. It wasn’t in any of my bags or
at home. I am so, so sorry. If we can’t find it, I promise I’ll pay for a
replacement.” Emma wrung her hands. “I’m kinda hoping you can do your Zor-lock
Holmes thing and help me retrace my steps.”
Emma lost everything. Back when they were college roommates,
she lost her dorm keys the day she moved in. She lost her car in parking lots,
lost her water bottle at yoga, and lost good wigs on multiple occasions when
there was no logical reason for them to have been removed in the first place.
One time she lost her date, which Zora never let Emma live down. Emma tried
organizing differently, or keeping a note on her phone so that she knew where
she parked, but then she’d lose her phone. Their freshman year Zora spent all
of her free time retracing Emma’s steps to find her lost items, eventually
printing instructions to call Zora onto adhesive labels to stick onto most of
Emma’s property for the next time it went missing. They used Emma’s number
originally, but she lost her phone more than anything else that she owned.
Chewing on a bit of Danish, Zora interlaced her fingers,
pushing her palms out in front of her to stretch her arms before shaking them
out at her sides. She tilted her head side to side, cracking her neck. “Okay,
so you stayed to do inventory last night. What section were you working on?”
“Cookbooks.” Emma bit her lip.
Zora pulled her lips into her mouth, pressing them together
as she nodded. “What did you eat for dinner?”
“I bought a chicken wrap from Brian, but then I wanted
French fries, so I grabbed some duck fat fries from next door.” The bistro next
door boasted New American cuisine with a hefty price tag.
“Ooo, I love those.” Now I want some.
“Right? They’re perfection.” Emma brought her fingertips to
her mouth, kissed them and splayed them wide.
“Hmm.” Zora sipped her latte thoughtfully. This is too easy.
“Did you check the bathroom? On top of the paper towel dispenser.”
Emma frowned, hugging her arms over her stomach. “Why would
I check the bathroom? This isn’t like that time I ate those deep fried Oreos…”
Zora giggled. “I promise you, I wasn’t thinking of the day
you blew up the bathroom. Honestly, I’d rather forget that one. Just go check.”
In a huff, her friend turned on her heel, walking back
toward the coffee kiosk. “Hey, B! I’ll be right back for my coffee.” The
bathroom door opened. “What the— How?” Emma rushed back, tablet in hand, mouth
wide open. “How did you know it would be in the bathroom?” She plugged it into
a charger hidden behind the counter and grabbed the backup, which was fully
charged.
Zora sipped her latte, serving enough suspense to make her
friend bounce with anticipation. “You had a chicken wrap and then ordered duck
fat fries. You brought the food over to the cookbook section, but you always
forget napkins, so you went to the bathroom. You carried the tablet with you,
because you were worried you’d lose it. I found a paper towel on the floor next
to the cookbook display.”
“So much for keeping it safe,” Emma muttered, eyeing it like
the device betrayed her.
“It’s fine, we found the tablet, and now we can keep going
through the inventory. Are you still on cookbooks?”
Emma nodded. “One last shelf, and then on to travel.”
“Okay, well let’s try to get through travel and self-help
today? I want us to get through a full inventory sweep so that we can place our
next orders and start planning out the short-story contest. We only have a
couple of months left.”
“You got it. What are you working on today?” Emma leaned
against the counter, looking surprised when Brian brought over her
cinnamon-topped cappuccino. “You betta stop flirting with me, B!”
He grinned, walking back to the kiosk, as several shoppers
wandered into the store.
“I’ve got social media posts, graphics for event flyers, and
I’m trying to nail down this author for a book signing in two weeks.” Zora
logged in to her workstation, climbing onto her black mesh-back stool at the
main checkout desk of the bookstore.
Emma surveyed and greeted the guests, offering a friendly
nod. “You know you could work in your office, Z. Take advantage of the peace
and quiet? I can handle this out here while you get through some of that
computer work.”
“I know you can, but I like it out here.” Zora shrugged.
Emma sucked her teeth. “You should be a professional
people-watcher, girl.”
She chuckled in response. “It’s an addiction. I really can’t
help it!” Zora watched her friend turn toward the cookbooks, but not before
giving Granny Marion some sugar. Squeezing the matriarch’s hand, Emma plopped a
big kiss on her cheek before leaning down to whisper something in her ear.
Granny chuckled and they slapped five, as Emma strode to the cookbook display,
sat cross-legged on the floor and started reviewing inventory figures on the
tablet.
Z exchanged an amused look with her grandmother, who blew a
kiss in her direction. Catching it, she touched the tips of her fingers to her
cheek. She blew a kiss back and turned her attention to her computer monitor.
After pulling up the bookstore’s calendar, she made a list of the upcoming
events for the next three weeks, putting together digital flyers using
templates she’d made previously. She added book covers and author photos to
author event flyers, candid photos of regular customers highlighting some of
their favorite reads that year, and a photo of Granny Marion reading to a group
of children to publicize upcoming story time events. She dropped links to all
of the graphics into her social media spreadsheet, where she scheduled out
posts weeks in advance, complete with post language, hashtags, author account
handles, and registration links. Such a Capricorn.
Being organized was how Zora had gotten the business running
smoothly so quickly. After her father died, she’d received a generous
inheritance that allowed her to purchase Opus Northeast from its previous
owner, Ms. Betty. A bookeller for decades, Ms. Betty had decided to retire and
move to Arizona to be closer to her grandchildren. Betty had known Zora since
adolescence, and she was delighted to sell her store to someone who loved the
place just as much as she did. Zora took great pride in updating Opus Northeast
in a way that invited the community to come in and stay awhile.
After a couple of hours of events and social media planning,
she moved on to email, deleting all of the spam before responding to emails
from book distributors, patrons inquiring about upcoming releases not currently
available for preorder, and local authors replying to her invitations for
in-store author events. Looking down at her desk, she clicked her tongue at
herself for leaving her breakfast sitting there as she worked. She had a habit
of leaving food sitting next to her for hours as she zoned in on a task only to
pick at it once it was cold. She popped the last of her flaky Danish into her
mouth, as a new email hit her inbox. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?” Emma asked curiously as she advanced toward
the counter, setting a fresh latte in front of Zora.
“He said yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She
lifted the latte to her lips on autopilot, humming softly as she took in the
scent. “Thanks.”
Her friend peered over her shoulder. “Is he who I think he
is?”
Stunned, Zora looked up at Emma, her brows furrowed in
confusion. “He said yes?”
“Are you having a stroke? I’m gonna need for you to use your
words, sis.” Emma waved her hand in front of Z’s face.
She couldn’t find the words. Her mouth went dry. Helpless,
Zora pointed to her computer screen.
Emma leaned forward. “‘Dear Ms. Dizon,’ blah blah blah.
‘I’ve spoken to Lawrence Michaels, and he would love to have an author event
hosted at Opus Northeast! As you may know, he grew up not far from there, and
he is excited for an opportunity to read an excerpt from Trial by Fire, which
is also based in Northeast D.C. Following the reading, he can stay for a brief Q&A
and a book signing,’ blah blah blah. Wow, are you freaking out right now?”
It was no secret that Zora had been crushing hard for years
on bestselling author Lawrence Michaels, whose newest installment of his
Langston Butler mystery thriller series was selling like hotcakes, and word on
the street was that the first two books in the series were being optioned for
film. Aside from being a local star, Lawrence’s good looks were undeniable. “I
bet he’s tall,” Zora murmured, grabbing his book from a pile of new releases on
the counter behind her. Opening the book to the author photo inside the back
cover, she ran her fingertips over the image of his clean-shaven brown skin, a
hint of a smile curving at the edge of his closed mouth. A cleft in his chin
and strong jaw led down the column of his neck to broad shoulders cloaked in a
dark blue blazer. “Wonder if he has dimples.”
Emma stared at her friend, pinging her eyes back and forth
between Zora and the author photo. “I think you might need to break out the ol’
vibrator tonight, girl. This ‘hot for author’ thing is getting unhealthy. Look
at you—you can barely string words together right now. What are you going to do
when he gets here? Drool on him?”
Zora swatted her friend away. “I’m fine. It’s just… I didn’t
think he’d actually be willing to come here.”
“Why? He’s too big and bad for Brookland? He’s from here!”
Emma shoved her hands onto her hips.
Zora pulled at one of her tight curls, coiling it around her
finger. “You know what I mean. Folks like that set their sights higher than
modest indie bookstores like this. And he’s from Petworth.”
“He’s from D.C. And he could still be a total douche.
Besides, when have you ever cared about someone having too much bravado to fit
their big ass head through our doors? He’s lucky to be invited, girl. Don’t gas
that dude up too much.” Emma dragged her fingers across her throat, deading the
subject. She really should have gone to law school.
She struggled to find the words. “I just— I’m surprised is
all.”
“‘Oh, Rexy, you’re so sexy.’” Emma quoted one of their
favorite movie quotes from their college days—they’d scored a box of her
sister’s old DVDs and binge-watched everything, but some lines stuck forever.
Emma was forever quoting Empire Records, Center Stage, and The Cutting Edge.
She curled her fingers into a claw and delicately pawed in Zora’s direction as
she turned toward the travel section.
Exasperated, she pursed her lips, still tugging at her
curls. “I hate you.”
“I heard that, heffa.”
Excerpted from Zora
Books Her Happy Ever After by Taj McCoy © 2023 by Taj McCoy,
used with permission from HarperCollins/MIRA Books.
What I thought about Zora Books Her Happy Ever After
Zora Dizon is a successful business owner and book-lover. When an author she's been crushing on agrees to appear at her bookstore, she's very excited. Granny Marion is Zora's largest supporter and she's in desperate need of great-grandbabies, so Zora has lots oe encouragement to go after author Lawrence Michaels.
But, but -- there's this other guy in the audience that pushes her buttons and just happens to be Lawrence's best friend, which starts a love triangle of sorts. Isn't that the way it always goes though -- from famine to feast, Zora has two men in her life, both looking for her attentions. But there is something about the relationship to the two men that has Zora wondering just what is going on with there. There are some red flags that Zora needs to pay attention to!
I like the idea of the love triangle in romance. As a reader, I'm interested in how the main characters in a romantic triangle handle the relationship and make decisions, so this part of the story attracted me to this story. And in real life -- isn't that the way it goes -- when it rains it pours and Zora has some decisions to make about these two men. I did like the thoughtful way that Zora goes about looking out for herself and her own needs.
There's plenty of steamy moments here, no doubt about it. I also liked the Zora's relationships outside of the two men -- her friend Emma is terrific and Zora's interactions with the young writers is a lovely part of this story.
Overall, I enjoyed this story and liked the homey feel of it along with the examination of the potential love triangle. It made for an interesting romance and I'll be looking for future titles from this author.
A review copy was provided by the publisher.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Law grad Taj McCoy is committed to
championing plus-sized Black love stories and characters with a strong sense of
sisterhood and familial bonds. Born in Oakland, Taj started writing as a child
and celebrated her first publications in grade school. When she’s not writing,
Taj boosts other marginalized writers, practices yoga, co-hosts the Fat Like Me
and Better Than Brunch podcasts, shares recipes, and cooks supper club meals
for friends.
Social Links:
Author website: https://www.tajmccoywrites.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/tajmccoywrites
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the1whowill
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20626681.Taj_McCoy
