You start reading and get the sudden urge to visit a small town. At least, I hope you do. If you don’t: stop reading NOW, before it's too late!
You don't heed my warning. Or maybe you choose to stick around. Either way, you find yourself in front of a sign that reads 'Welcome to Maple Valley. Population UNKNOWN.'
"Unknown?" you ask in surprise.
"For now," I say from directly behind you.
You yelp.
"Sorry! I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you," I say as I walk toward the town sign. "The population is still unknown because my co-author Danika Bloom and I haven't decided what it is yet. We’ve only written two books set in Maple Valley: Shelve that Billionaire, which releases today, and Check Out that Billionaire, which releases next Monday.”
“Happy release day!” you tell me. A drink appears in your hand.
"It matches the cover!” I exclaim as the same pink drink appears in my hand. “I love it.”
We clink glasses and sip our drinks as we proceed into town.
"I can't wait to show you around," I tell you.
You feel a buzz of excitement, too, but it fizzles as you realize that the town looks… unusual.
"Why is it so... gray?" you ask.
You're not referring to the sky, which is bright blue. The sun is shining brightly on the vibrant green, freshly mowed lawns and the gorgeous blooms decorating the yards.
You’re talking about the buildings, all of which are gray, like someone sucked out all the color.
"Danika and I haven't expanded our story into this part of town," I explain. "So any buildings that we haven’t written yet are still unknown."
"Like the town's population," you say.
"Exactly." I lead you around a corner, and you spot the first building that isn't grayed out.
It’s a restaurant, but the sign reads ‘unknown’. Which doesn’t seem to deter the town’s residents. There’s a group of older women seated in front of the window. They’ve brought books, but they’re having an animated conversation and repeatedly pointing across the street.
"Can we meet them?" you ask.
"Next week. They're from Check Out that Billionaire,” I explain.
You look at where they’re pointing. The Maple Valley Public Library.
“Come on!” I lead you inside.
We head toward the shelves, where you spot a robot that looks like a white salt shaker, with eyes painted on the front and a mechanical arm sticking out of its belly. A woman is standing next to it, leafing through a copy of Pride and Prejudice.
"You remember Jane?" I ask.
You met her briefly already and you nod. "It's great to see you again, Jane."
She smiles. "You too. Want to meet Byron?"
'Yes," you perk up and look around. If you're expecting a man to pop out from between the shelves, you're mistaken.
"Byron's the robot," I tell you.
Jane pats his metal exterior. "He helps me put books away.”
“Jane is a Library Assistant,” I add. “In a larger library system, like the one where I work, there are multiple types of assistants. We call those who put away books Pages, and those who check out books Public Service Assistants. I worked as a Page for over a decade before I got my degree and became a librarian. I’ve put away hundreds of thousands of books.”
“I used to put away a ton of books,” Jane says. “But it’s mostly Byron’s job now.”
She flips his ‘on’ switch, and Byron's metal arm extends to grab a book from the cart. He rolls down the aisle, stops at a shelf, and places it between two other books.
"Wow," you say, impressed. "How does Byron know how to do that?"
"I'm glad you asked," my eyes light up, and I go into librarian mode. "Byron is a shelving robot. His programming allows him to create a detailed map of the library, the way a robot vacuum does.”
I grab a yellow Creative Writing paperback off the nearest shelf and gesture at the white square sticker on the inside of the back cover. “Byron then scans the RFID tags on the books. The tag has all the information Byron needs to know about the book, including the title, author, and Dewey number." I close the book and show you the spine, which has a label on the bottom: 808.39 BAR.
“Byron's programming tells him what order to shelve the books in. He knows they’re arranged by Dewey Number first, then alphabetically by the first three letters of the author's last name. In this case, BAR. He then places the book in the precise location on the shelf and straightens all the books.”
"When we buy new books," Jane adds, "we add them to the library catalog, and Byron's inventory gets updated. It's pretty amazing technology!”
“It is… amazing,” I agree, but you catch the hesitation in my voice. “A lot of libraries are already using shelving robots, though the one where I work is not.”
“We’re lucky that Bryan Brooks,”—as in the Bryan Brooks, Hottest Billionaire Bachelor of the Year according to Lavish Magazine and the three million women who follow him on social media—“created Byron and donated him to our little library.”
“Lucky… wouldn’t be how I’d put it.”
“Why not?” Jane asks in surprise.
“Automation can lead to job loss,” I tell her.
Jane looks at Byron a little uncomfortably but shakes her head. "Byron and I work together, as a team. He’s not here to replace me.”
"Um..." I say awkwardly, and turn to you. "Come, I have one more place to show you. Bye, Jane!”
She looks like she wants to say something, but changes her mind and starts to set up a tripod with a ring light.
"What is that for?" you ask.
"Jane posts book recommendations on Quickstar," I explain. "It's the Instagram equivalent in this world.”
I lead you across the library and open the door to an office. "This is where Jane will meet Bryan Brooks for the first time," I explain. "I think it's the perfect spot for you to read the first chapter of Shelve that Billionaire."
You settle behind the desk, which has dozens of paperbacks littered across its surface. One of those is Shelve that Billionaire, and you pick it up.
[picture]
"I really hope you love reading it as much as Danika and I loved writing it,” I tell you. “Come back and let me know what you think. And let my coauthor Danika Bloom know, too.”
Chapter 1 - Jane
My tripod is in place and I’m just about ready to record my daily episode of Book Talk with Byron when Amelia, the library branch manager, pops her head around the corner of the romance section.
“Hey!” I flip the switch to power on our library’s super cool new shelving robot. He looks like a white salt shaker, with eyes painted on the front and a mechanical arm sticking out of his belly. The sight of him never ceases to make me smile. “Byron and I just need a few more minutes. We’ll be done filming before it’s time to open.”
Amelia grimaces, like she’s in pain, and switches Byron back off.
“You okay?” I ask, stepping away from the powered off robot toward my boss. She’s young for a branch manager—only a few years older than me—and is also my friend. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need to go home?”
“I’m not sick, but I’m far from okay. I got an email from the Library Board last night and was on the phone with the president for an hour this morning trying to process…” Her forehead creases and she runs her hand through her curly mop of hair.
“Process what? Are they canceling funding for another one of our programs? Please tell me it’s not Wednesday Lunchtime Reads. We can’t lose that one. I’ll do it on my break. Those kids need us.”
Amelia shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. “Jane, I don’t know how to say this other than just… say it. Your library assistant position. That’s what they’ve decided to cut. They said Byron has made it obsolete.”
I glance at the robot in question as the word ‘obsolete’ echoes in my head, then drops into the pit of my stomach, where it stirs up the acid and makes me feel like throwing up.
My dream job at my favorite place in the world—the public library—is being cut. At twenty-six years old I’m already obsolete.
I’ve worked as a library assistant ever since I graduated from college. It’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t have any other skills or interests. I’m an English major, for goodness sake. There aren’t any other job opportunities out there for me. At least, none I’d want to pursue. Nowhere else I’d ever want to work.
I swallow hard. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Oh, Jane. I’m so, so, sorry.” Amelia pulls me into a tight hug. “I don’t agree with the Board. No matter what I say, they won’t budge. I’ll keep trying. I promise.”
“I know it’s not your fault. I just wish…”
I’m not even sure what I wish… That Bryan Brooks, Hottest Billionaire Bachelor of the Year—according to Lavish Magazine and the three million women who follow him on QuickStar—never invented the automated shelving robot? That he hadn’t donated it to our small library system because his mansion just happens to be on the hill overlooking our little town? That I’d never taken the robot out of the box?
And to think I’ve been crushing on Bryan and his brawny, brainy social media posts for over two years. I don’t care how many shirtless photos or book quotes he posts in his ‘Ripped and Well Read’ feed. I’m definitely unfollowing him.
“If there were anything I could do to keep you here, I would.” Amelia sighs heavily and leans on a shelf, pushing a few books out of robot-perfect alignment. “The Board’s been trying to find a way to pay for renovations. We desperately need to fix the leak in the roof and replace some of the shelves before they become a hazard.” She shakes her head. “You’d think Bryan Brooks could have donated cash instead of a robot named after a poet.”
“He didn’t actually name it after a poet,” I mutter. “Not that it’s relevant right now.”
Amelia gives me her ‘are you okay?’ look; the one that’s usually reserved for our more ‘difficult’ library patrons.
“Since I’m being fired, I might as well come clean. Bryan Brooks didn’t name the robot Byron. The arrogant jerk named it after himself. When it arrived, the package said Bryan 1.0, but you know how the R on the label maker sticks.” I shrug and point at the ‘Hello, my name is Byron’ label on the robot’s chest. “I accidentally typed BY, and I didn’t want to redo the whole thing.”
Amelia snorts. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” I grin, but then my heart sinks, and I swallow hard. “Now I’m being replaced by Byron. Not what I’d call poetic justice.”
“Oh, sweetie. Why don’t you take the morning off and have a good cry? I’d let you take the full day, but it always gets so busy when the quilters are here, so I need you back after lunch.” She winces. “I don’t know how the Board expects us to get by without you.”
“Adversity is the first path to truth.” I glower at the namesake of the poet who wrote those prophetic words two hundred years ago. I can almost picture Robot Byron saying them now—even though he can’t actually talk—injecting himself into the conversation, like he injected himself into my library, only to replace me.
“There’s enough funding to keep you on until the end of the month,” Amelia adds. “That’s just over two weeks. I’ll help you look for an amazing new job in the meantime, and I’ll give you a glowing reference. Obviously. You have so many skills, and you’d be an asset to anyone.”
Anyone who isn’t the Library Board.
My heart sinks. What could possibly compare to working surrounded by books? Putting away the paperbacks and hardcovers I treasure? Keeping the library organized so that when people come in, they can find exactly what they’re looking for? Not to mention getting paid to chat with library patrons and spread the love of reading to the community?
Amelia gives me another hug, flips Byron’s power switch, and leaves me standing in a trance with the robot hard at work three feet away. It’s his job to shelve books that were dropped in the overnight returns bin—a job that used to be mine when I first started here five years ago. Why didn’t I see this coming?
Like me, the robot is completely oblivious—though in his case, it’s to my presence, not to reality. He picks up a historical romance and nestles it with the other QUI titles, right where it belongs. Then he straightens the shelf so the books are perfectly lined up and grips another book in his metal hand to put away.
I want to kick him, pour coffee on his circuit boards, or break his perfectly programmed arm—but that doesn’t feel fair. This isn’t really the robot’s fault. He’s just a scrap of metal. No, if anything, I blame his sexy bookish inventor.
And to think I’ve been one of the drooling masses who follow him on QuickStar.
I flip Byron’s power switch to “Off” with a bit more force than needed. Unlike me, he can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything. If only my emotions had an off switch—or a delete button. What I wouldn’t give to forget how obsessed I’ve been over Bryan Brooks and his posts. How I’ve analyzed and agonized over his literary quote of the day, thinking I could get to know the man by the books he reads. Not to mention all the minutes—fine, the hours—I’ve spent ogling his shirtless photos, wondering if he feels and tastes as delicious as he looks.
I know, I know. I’m a librarian and really should have a little more professionalism when it comes to anything book-related. But, honestly, that man’s way with words would melt even the most bibliophobic fool. And since I’m an unapologetic bibliophile, the depth of my foolishness when it comes to that man is epic.
Get your copy of Shelve that Billionaire to find out what happens next.
NEW RELEASE!
Shelve that Billionaire by Mia Sands and Danika Bloom
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/shelve
Amazon Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Shelve-Billionaire-Bookish-Billionaires-Valley-ebook/dp/B0CW18935J
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/ca/book/shelve-that-billionaire/id6502667100
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/shelve-that-billionaire
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shelve-that-billionaire-mia-sands/1145596921
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1564577
Sounds cool...I love your news letters