Night Shift (Daydreamers, #1)

by Annie Crown

For the daydreamers.

I’ve always loved libraries after dark.

My roommates call me a hopeless romantic. I let them. It’s nicer than being called a lonely hermit.

Life is far too short to let my shot at feeling like I’m in a romance novel pass me by.

Because that’s what nonfictional men do: disappoint you.

I let my eyelids flutter closed, embracing my newest kink: being read to.

Reading is so much fun, but I’m tired of feeling like all the best parts of my life have been lived inside my own head.

I’m not looking to marry the guy—that’s ridiculous. I just want to climb him like a tree.

“Then for the sake of being direct,” he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kendall. And I’ve read every goddamned poem Elizabeth Barrett Browning ever wrote. In three weeks. For fun.”

“I really, really want you,” I whisper. “Good,” he whispers back. “Because I’m all yours.”

The thing is, I don’t read romance novels for the realism. I read them because they make me feel seen and heard as a woman.

I’ve always loved libraries after dark.