Dammit! Thwarted again! I can’t even pretend to freeze her out for treating me like a child in front of a hot author.

“Will do.” I give her a quick hug, wrapping my arms around her, Finn, and Milo. “Have a safe drive in the swagger wagon back to the burbs.”

“Always do.”

Then she’s gone and I’m alone with Jasper Williams.

Awesome.

“So . . .” I drag out the short word, trying to ignore the way the other moms are going out of their way to get a better look at Jasper. “How can I help you?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d come sign some books ahead of tonight.” I don’t know if he’s used to being the subject of everyone’s attention or truly doesn’t notice the women gawking at him, but he’s not fazed at all as he speaks.

I, on the other hand, am not used to feeling like I’m inside a fishbowl, and I do not like it one bit. “Oh, okay. Yeah.” I trip over my words. “That sounds good.”

“If this doesn’t work for you, I can do it tonight instead.” He must see the discomfort written all across my face, but he reads it wrong.

“Oh no. I’m sorry.” I wave off his concerns. “Now is fine. Your books are over here.”

Thankfully he’s one of our most requested authors, so I know exactly where they’re located. After my not-so-graceful realization of who he was, it’d be nice to look at least semicapable.

I weave my way through the shelves, smiling and waving goodbyes to the moms and their minis as they head to the checkout with arms loaded up with picture books. With each step, I feel a little more confident. The nerves of knowing one of America’s most popular authors is trailing behind me fade as we approach the table always covered with multiples of his titles.

But when we get there, his books are missing. And I don’t mean one or two—I mean all of them.

“Ummm . . .” My skin starts to tingle as my eyes dart around the space, searching for the familiar covers. “They’re usually right here.”

I move to the aisle, locating the W authors in a snap, but feeling heat rise in my face when his books are missing from there as well. Leave it to me to lose an author’s books—books I see every day!—the day of said author’s event.

“Mona told me she had them gathered in the back.” Jasper’s deep voice jolts me out of the panic spiral preparing to pull me under. His deep voice soothes my nerves as efficiently as the words he says. “I don’t know if that helps.”

Freaking Dirty Birds.

I love them, but I swear, their “help” is going to put me in an early grave.