Date number three in as many days. All I really wanted to do tonight was veg out in front of the television and read a good book. Two bad dates in a row was enough for one week. To make matters worse, it was seven-fifteen before my date showed up. He was forty five minutes late. Then he waved at me and pointed to the restroom. What the hell? I seriously contemplated just walking out of the bar, and went as far as to slide off the stool, when a husky male voice stopped me in my tracks.
Sigh. That accent could melt the panties off a girl. I was sure it had happened many times. Surprised, I met his warm brown eyes and asked, "You know my drink?"
"It's my job to know what the regulars prefer."
I shook my head immediately. "Oh, I'm not a regular."
He chuckled. That same deep chuckle I remembered hearing the night I left Mark at the bar. "My apologies, three nights in a row…I mistakenly assumed you made this a habit."
"Whoa, what do you mean this?" I asked. I felt my cheeks begin to burn. He actually thought I was trolling for men! I suppose it did look like that to the casual observer. Oh, snap. I didn't want to look easy.
"This? Picking losers for dates - that's what I meant," he stated smoothly, his arm waving about the bar. He turned his back and grabbed a glass and ice. I watched as he made his way around the bar and effortlessly poured the gin, lemon and simple syrup into the glass.
"On the house." He winked and walked away.
“You are cordially invited…”
Four words that spark the fear of God into any gently bred, single southern woman.
When Savannah Guthry receives an invitation to her cousin’s wedding back home in Charleston, South Carolina, her first thoughts aren’t of flowers and dresses. Instead, she's reminded of the groom: her first love and the reason she ended up at a college 500 miles away from home.
Determined to show up and dazzle not only her ex but her spoiled cousin too, Savannah allows her friends to set her up on a series of dates looking for Mr. Right.
Wrapped up in her memories of the past and the drama of her new romances, Savannah doesn’t see the dangerous threat to her life coming…
She might not land her Prince Charming before her Last Call.
**This book is a New Adult Romantic Suspense. It is intended for mature (17+) audiences due to sexual situations and mild language
Excerpt from Last Call:
Friday - April 12, 2013
Nine Weeks until “The Wedding”
Get Your Freak On
An hour later, stuffed with ice cream and parmigiana chicken, the three of us were lounging in the living room when Candace finally got up the nerve to ask about the invitation. I’d allowed them to take a peek at it when they first came home, but neither of them had said anything about it until now.
“So, do you have to go to the wedding?”
“Hell yes she has to go! What would Mary Anne and the rest of those little debutante brats think if she didn’t?” snarled Sara, her eyes flashing in anger at the mention of the word debutante.
“You forget - I was one of those debutantes.”
Derisive laughter bubbled up from Sara as she pulled herself up in her chair; sitting on her feet. Yoga really did her body good. “Savannah, you are no more a debutante then I am. I know you did all that stuff back in the day, but it was solely at the urging of your mommy dearest. You’re so not the ‘only wear white after Memorial Day, clutch-my-pearls, and never leave-home-without-makeup’ type anymore.”
“This is true,” I agreed. My girlfriends really were the best medicine ever.
“So, you’re going then?” Candace asked again.
“I have to. Could you imagine my mother’s reaction if I tried to skip out?” I shuddered in faux fear. “Besides, I don’t want Daniel or Mary Anne to think they’ve hurt me. If I don’t go, everyone will assume I’m not done nursing my broken heart.”
“Over that pretty boy? Whatever,” Sara protested.
I refused to jump at her bait. Sara liked her guys rockabilly, and the more James Dean-like they were, the better. I was pretty sure the only reason she ended up in school in Nashville was for the music scene and the rockabilly hunks.
I rolled my eyes at my eccentric roommate and leaned forward to pour the last of the white wine in my glass.
“I forgot to tell y’all that my mother is already trying to wrangle me a date for the happy event.”
“Oh good lord, who?” coughed Candace, clearly as amused with my mother’s antics as I was.
Sara butted in, “You need to find some hot, tattooed bad boy to walk in on your arm, Savannah.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I need, Sara. My poor mother would die of a heart attack.”
“Wait a minute.” Candace popped up, her eyes bright with excitement. “Lord help me, I’m going to say it.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Sara may be on to something.”
“Yes,” Sara squealed with delight. “Hot bad boy to the rescue.”
“Nooo, thank you. I’m not interested in a bad boy toy.”
“Boy toy. Even better, Savannah,” Sara teased; rubbing her hands together evilly.
“Shhh. Would you two be quiet? I’m not talking about a bad boy or a toy. However, we could find you an amazing date for the wedding.” Candace smiled my way, adding, “One that will dote on you all weekend, and show those Charleston socialites that you are doing perfectly fine, thank you very much.”
Sara hissed out a very enthusiastic “Yesssss” while exchanging high fives with Candace. Their eagerness to help me was touching, but misplaced. I didn’t need a date for this wedding. I would be fine.
“Put your little black books down, ladies. I’ll be perfectly fine attending the wedding by myself. I couldn’t invite some random guy to a family event anyhow.”
“Like hell you can’t,” growled Sara. “Girl, this is the wedding of the couple who humiliated you your senior year of high school. They are the reason you don’t go home for the holidays. You damn well can and will show up for that wedding with a slamming dress and a gorgeous accessory on your arm.”
I shook myself out of my memories until I was back in the present. “You two are right,” I spoke, my voice unnaturally loud.
“Tattooed boy toy?”
“No,” I grumbled, throwing a pillow at Sara. “You’re a pain. But I do need a date for the wedding. A good one.”
“Well it shouldn’t be too hard to find you a perfect date. You’re smart, sweet, sexy and stacked,” Sara teased; holding her hands to her chest like I was Dolly Parton.
“Good lord, Sara. How much did you drink tonight?” barked Candace, rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter.
“Okay, so I need a date, girls. Problem is, I haven’t dated. Ever.”
“We know,” chimed in my best friends.
It’s not like I didn’t want to date, but after nursing my heart through the drama that was Daniel and Mary Anne, and then weathering the aftermath of Spencer Alexander, I couldn’t stand the thought of opening up to another guy. I’d left home for school to get away from all of the people I’d grown up with and to make new friends. However, once I got here I just ended up immersing myself in my classes and school clubs, and never made time to actually go out. Sara called me a homebody. Candace called me picky. I called myself scared.
About the author:
Michele is the author of the Amazon bestselling Coming of Age Fantasy- Never Let You Fall, The Prophecy of Tyalbrook Series and the New Adult Romantic Suspense, Last Call. She is currently working on the second book in The Prophecy of Tyalbrook Series, Never Let You Go.
Having grown up in both the cold, quiet town of Topsham, Maine and the steamy, southern
hospitality of Mobile, Alabama, Michele is something of a enigma. She is an avid Yankees fan, loves New England, being outdoors and misses snow. However she thinks southern boys are hotter, Alabama football is the only REAL football out there and sweet tea is the best thing this side of heaven and her children’s laughter!
Her family, an amazing husband and three awesome kids, have planted their roots in the middle of Michele’s two childhood homes in Charlotte, North Carolina.
“Hey Savannah, what can I get for you tonight?”
A voice I recognized stopped me from gawking at the scene down the bar. Noelle, a girl from a study group I’d been in, placed a cocktail napkin in front of me and waited expectantly for my order.
“Oh.” I jumped, startled at the sudden interruption. “Hi Noelle. Um…my friend is waiting at the bar.”
“Honey, it’s gonna be a while by the looks of things.” She laughed. “What do you want, and I’ll go grab it?”
Thankfully, Jax looked over and saw us talking. I waved my hand, signaling him to come over as he wound his way to us. Suddenly my nerves started to get the best of me as I focused on his tall frame. This was starting to feel like a date. Crap.
“Wow. He’s a hottie, girl,” Noelle cooed as she watched Jax. “You two on a date?”
Damn, my cheeks were burning. “Simma down, girl. We just met.”
“Hi there, I’m Noelle. What can I get you?” she purred when he finally arrived at the table.
Her voice and attitude were confident. Of course they were. She had on the requisite skin tight, black, low slung jeans and second skin tank top that were required for all of the female staff here. She was a sexy girl and she knew it.
“Rum n’ Coke for me please, and a plain Coke for her.” His eyes dipped to the creamy flesh flashing above her v-neck tank for a quick glance. I couldn’t fault the guy for taking a peek at what was freely being offered in front of his face.
“Actually that sounds good - add rum to mine too,” I interjected, wanting to calm my nerves a little.
With another quick glance at Jax, she scooted off to get our drinks.