I blinked my eyes as the light blinded me. I smiled when I realized what this meant. I was next on the shelf; the books on top of me had finally found a happy home, now it was my place to turn on the charm. I batted my eyelashes, and looked around the store. People were milling about, picking up fellow books and glancing at their pages. My heart ached as I observed the rejected expression on a little book down the shelf from me. Book Lookers, as we call them, have no idea of the self-esteem issues they provoke. One caress of our cover, one flip of our pages, can raise our hopes only to be dashed a few moments later when they place us back on the shelf. I don’t even want to discuss the psychological ramifications of being misplaced on the shelf.

I glanced toward the entrance, watching the crowd file by one by one on their way to the lingerie store next door. If they would read pages 157-161, they would get a beautiful lesson on how the lack of lingerie can benefit the single woman. Remembering the intimate scene made my cover sweat. I blew out a breath wishing I had arms to fan myself. My author had out done herself this time. Her heroine and hero were perfectly matched, sure, they fought tooth and nail to avoid their attraction, but their love was undeniable. What reader doesn’t love angst and a huge happily ever after?

I saw a young woman make a beeline into the store, heading straight for me. I held my breath as she scanned the shelves. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and it took everything I had not to ruffle my pages when she picked me off the shelf. I could see the excitement in her eyes when she turned me over and read the back of my cover. She sighed and I wanted to wet my binder. She carried me over to the check out counter, and handed me to the clerk.

“Oh you’re going to love this one. I think this is her best book yet.” Of course I am, was there any question?

“I can’t wait to read it. I’ve heard once you start it you can’t put it down.” Now wait a minute, I belong to the book union and I’m entitled to my breaks, especially after you read pages 157-161. Can you say cigarette?

The clerk placed me in a bag, and I was in total darkness once again. After a long dull ride in the sack, I was once again resurrected. My new owner, I’m going to call her Alice, took me out of the bag and placed me on a table near her bed. She promptly walked out of the room, and left me destitute and unread. How could this be? I’m a best seller. I wallowed in my disappointment, craving for my pages to be turned.

I don’t know how much time had passed when I felt myself floating through the air. I opened one eye and saw Alice climbing into bed with me in her hand. Yippee! It’s my time to shine. She opened my cover and began to read. She proved to be an interesting reader. She smiled and giggled in all the appropriate places, but something really bothered me about her. She made the cardinal sin of eating while reading. I was appalled by this behavior. I didn’t want my lovely pages marred with the grease from her fingertips. It wasn’t a pretty sight, from my vantage point. Every time she turned a page she stuffed a massive hand of popcorn in her mouth, does this mean there’s a movie deal in my future?

When she reached page 157, sweat beaded on her upper lip. She pushed her hair off her forehead and clamped her knees together. She reached for her phone on the nightstand and hit speed dial. Someone must have answered because she began to speak.

“Hi Baby, whatcha wearing?” Oh hell no.

She giggled and dog-eared one of my pages before she closed me. She had just committed the second cardinal sin. Never do you dog-ear a page in a book; it’s a slap in the cover. Then I witnessed a blatant display of plagiarism. She recited verbatim what she wanted to do to her phone friend just as it was written on my pages.

“Oh baby it would feel so good.” Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall… ninety-nine bottles of beer.

Finally, she hung up the phone and picked me up. She read me for four hours straight and finally finished me. When she closed my cover, she sighed and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. I made water works! She lovingly placed me on the nightstand and flipped out the light.

“You are the best book I’ve ever read.”

I felt my pages swell with pride. It was so obvious, I had her from the moment she touched my cover.