Page 15 of Battle of the Bookstores

But as fun as this interlude has been, I called this meeting for a reason.

The mood in the room deflates as I fill my staff in on everything: the competition, the profit goal; how at the end of the day, only one manager will be left standing.

“What does that mean for us?” Cinderella asks, a slight wobble to her voice.

“If Josie wins, I can’t promise what she’ll do. If she’ll keep everyone on, or if she’ll want to hire her own staff.”

Silence settles over my group of misfit booklovers.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say, attempting to channel Elaine’s unwavering optimism. “We’ll find a way to finish on top.”

“That’s what she said,” Nora quips, and the tension is replaced with laughter.

For everyone but Cinderella. “What are weactuallygoing to do?” she asks.

“We’re going to sell as many books as we can,” I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. Elaine had aField of Dreamsstrategy—if you stock the books, the readers will come. It’s always worked for us.

“But how…” Cinderella prods.

“Let’s brainstorm,” I say. “See what we can come up with together.” It’s got to be better than what my head came up with alone: pretty much nothing.

Persephone slinks down the chair and settles in my lap,nudging my hand with her head. I run my fingers through her soft coat, grateful I decided to keep Elaine’s cats around despite all the shedding.

“My soccer team had a bake sale last month,” Eliza suggests.

If only that wouldn’t compete with Beans. But since nothing kills a brainstorm faster than a Negative Nancy, I give her an encouraging smile.

“I’ll take notes,” Indira says, reaching for the journal she’s always scribbling in. I know her MFA classmates give her flak for working at a romance bookstore. They’d probably respect her more if she worked at Josie’s store—but Josie doesn’t have a staff.

Apparently, she doesn’t need anyone. She can do it all herself.

I’m ashamed of thena-na-boo-bootone in my head; this competition is already bringing out the worst in me.

“We could host more author events?” Nora suggests.

“So many people bring books they bought online,” Indira says, shaking her head. “It’s like they don’t realize bookstores need to make money to stay in business.”

I nod—we had forty people show up to our last author event but only sold twelve books.

“What if we hosted different kinds of events?” Cinderella says.

“Weddings!” Eliza lights up, but Indira effusively shakes her head.

“One word,” she says. “Bridezillas.”

“How about funerals?” Nora suggests. “The customers can’t complain if they’re unalive.”

Everyone titters except Cinderella, who looks as if she’s actually at a funeral. “Can we please take this seriously? The future of Happy Endings is at stake!”

“We’ve got three months and a lot of good ideas,” I say. “Let’s keep them coming, okay?”

“I’ve seen some cute romance-themed crochet patterns,” Nora says, holding up her half-finished creature. “I could make some for us to sell.”

“What about blind date books?” Indira suggests. “I could write poems using the tropes!”

“Ooh—we could host a safe sex night!” Eliza says. “Sex ed at school is so lame—it would be great to discuss consent and protection. And we could feature books showcasing that.”

“Maybe a panel with sex experts?” Nora says. “Like the author of thatTickle His Picklebook.”

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