Free Topped by Kayti McGee Page B

work?” Vanessa says, and then a small smile crosses her face and she tries to hide it.
    “Oh my god, you have.” Evelyn stares at her.
    “Okay, yes. And it’s hilarious. Sue me,” Vanessa sighs. “I’m ashamed. But he’s no you! He’s good for a ten-minute laugh and that is it. We all know this. He’s a total joke.”
    “Well, he’s a total joke who is about to get upstaged like crazy. I can’t believe Bethany Bonafont, of all people, would put him on there. Someone on the committee has a twisted sense of humor.” I shake it off and try to focus. I’m here to help those who are starting, and that’s my goal. Fuck Shivers and all his shitty “novels.”
    I walk into the room and almost fall over. There, sitting in the middle of the speaker’s table, is Joe. He’s looking as devilishly handsome as I remember, and a huge grin breaks across his face as our eyes meet. My stomach flips, and I can’t help but smile back.
    Well, at least he’s here. This can’t be all bad!
    Wait.
    Wait.
    Why is a model sitting at a panel table at a writers’ conference, specifically a panel about writing…
    Nothing short of what can be described as pure horror crosses my mind as I near the table and spy his badge. An author badge. Not a cover model badge. The letters swoop together to form a name that threatens to knock me off my feet. As I feel lightheaded, I see his smile falter, too.
    My one-night stand, my best sex ever…
    Is Charlie fucking Shivers.

Chapter Six

Joe
    N o , seriously? Seriously? Randi Rose is Miranda the Sex Goddess? The same Randi Rose who one-stars all my books, and who writes scathing reviews about how terrible I am, and how I’m not a legitimate author, that fucking trapped fart is Miranda? Holy shit. This is not even cool.
    I try to keep the smile on my face, but she looks absolutely horrified. Good. Let her sit there and stew over the fact that the guy who rocked her whole world last night is the same guy she totally fucking hates. I can’t decide if I love this or hate this. I’m leaning heavily towards hate, but it’s also kind of fucking hilarious.
    At least she can’t one-star my dick, right? Heyyyy.
    But seriously, she totally can’t. That girl was so thirsty for me last night.
    I make a mental note to add that one-star line to a future book, because it will absolutely go into a book. Something raunchy and completely tasteless, like with Furries. Probably a wolf and a sheep, or some other similar weirdness, Yelping each other with sex reviews. One will be a stuck-up bitch and the other will be a total stud.
    I’ll bring it up at the next Buddy Lunch.
    What are the odds we’re on a panel together? Oh, this is quickly moving to hilarity. She can barely conceal her hatred as she stomps down to her spot on the table. I go to move us next to each other, so I can finger her during the panel, but the ancient and venerable Georgia Whitney sits down between us and starts gabbing about how thrilled she is to be on a panel with me. At least someone appreciates me.
    And about half the crowd appears to be here for me too. One older lady winks at me from the front row and I wink back. She holds up two of my books, Spitney Brears and Bustin Timberdick are Back Together—In My Butt and Pummeled in the Ass by a Hungry Triceratops . Two classics. I motion for her to come up, and Randi—I mean Miranda—lets out a groan of disgust.
    I like her better when she’s moaning my name. Too bad I can’t throw her on the table and fill that pinched mouth with my dick. I totally would. I make another mental note to add that to my next book. I’m gonna dedicate this one to her, too. I’m going to dedicate every book to her; she’ll be furious. Why didn’t I think of this earlier? It’s super brills.
    “Can I have your autograph?” asks the lady. She’s all quavery like she can’t believe she’s really talking to me. Me! I love my fans.
    “Sure,” I say loudly and smile with a wink. “Who should I