BESTSELLING AND AWARD WINNING AUTHOR OF WESTERN ROMANCE!
Caroline Clemmons writes historical and contemporary genre fiction. Historical romances, contemporary romantic suspense, mysteries, and paranormals are among her current works. Learn more about her at https//www.carolineclemmons.com
Showing posts with label contemporary romantic comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contemporary romantic comedy. Show all posts
Don't overlook the Rafflecopter at the end of the post!
Louisiana
Latte
by
Rebecca Henry
Genre:
Romantic Comedy
In
1989, at the age of twenty-two, Deb was in a life or death situation.
As the engines started, accompanied by the fasten seat belt sign, Deb
felt her skin crawl with immobilizing fear. She had two choices,
either get off the plane or die in her brand-new Gucci stilettos. Deb
couldn’t get on a plane for love that day, but she could do it
twenty years later for money. Money was worth dying for.
I dragged a down pillow from the penthouse’s luxe, fluffy king-size bed over my face to muffle the sound of my sister’s cries for help, but she was relentless.
“Yoohoo, Becky Boo! Are you out there? I need you!” My sister’s desperate pleas carried across the hardwood floors from the steaming bathroom.
I moaned and threw the pillow covering my face to the floor. I must have dozed off. What time was it?
“Yoohoo, Becky Boo!” I heard Deb call.
Nope. No luck that she’d give up. I rolled off the bed and padded across the plush rugs to the bathroom. The shower was still running, and I figured Deb needed me for something desperately pressing, like getting a bottle of shampoo out of her overnight bag. I walked into the open bathroom. Why doesn’t Deb shut the door, I wondered for the thousandth time.
“Deb, you need something?” I asked, leaning against the granite counter.
With a level of relief usually reserved for firefighters who just rescued lost or stranded children, Deb cried, “Oh, Becky, there you are! Yes! I need help.”
I rubbed my tired eyes, drowsy and confused. “Okay, do you need shampoo?”
“No, Becky, I need you to come here.”
I blinked. “Like to the shower?”
I could see Deb’s outline on the other side of the white shower curtain, her tan body in perfect silhouette. What does my sister want now? I wondered. I checked the rings of the shower curtain to see if they were loose. Nope. Not the shower rings.
Deb stuck her head out from around the shower curtain, her wet hair plastered to her shoulders. “Yes, come here! But don’t look at me. I’m naked.” She disappeared again into the shower.
I shook my head in bewilderment. “Okay, Deb! Here I am, right outside the shower,” I said, skittish. What now?
The curtain moved again, and this time a long, tan leg emerged. A stiletto was strapped to her foot.
I stared at the dangling foot in front of me, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. “I don’t understand, Deb.” I inched a little closer, eyeing the stiletto like a snake about to strike. “Did you forget you were wearing shoes when you got in the shower?”
“Oh God, no!” Deb exclaimed as if I were the one being ridiculous. “You can’t go barefoot in public showers, Becky. You’ll get warts. I never shower in hotels without wearing my shoes. I don’t want to catch athlete’s foot!”
Rather than point out that this was not a public shower, but actually the most expensive hotel room I’d ever been in, I sighed. “Why didn’t you just borrow my flip-flops?” I asked. I weighed leaving and going downstairs, but curiosity got the best of me. I had to see how this one played out.
“Gross,” she scoffed. “You know I don’t do flip-flops. Flip-flops are for prisoners and college freshmen. Becky, listen. I need you to hold out your arm.”
I took a step back, breaking my stare on her soaking wet stiletto. “For what?” I asked cautiously.
“I can’t shave my legs while standing on one foot in these heels,” she huffed. “I’ll fall over and break my neck! Please, just stick out your arm so I can grab onto it. Pretty please? I’ll be super-fast.”
I stayed perfectly still, like an animal hoping to escape detection. My eyes were once again locked on the wet stiletto. Maybe if I don’t move she will forget I’m here.
“Becky! Please! This is an emergency!” She jiggled her soaking high heel in emphasis. “I’m going to injure myself if you don’t help me. It will only take a minute, I promise.”
Resigned and reluctant, I slowly reached my arm inside the shower curtain.
“Becky, make sure you don’t look, okay?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes so hard I saw the back of my brain.
“Remember, I’m naked,” Deb reminded me through the curtain.
“Okay,” I mumbled instead of pointing out that she was not naked, she was in fact wearing shoes that cost more than a month of groceries. In the shower.
So there I stood, a silent human handrail while Deb shaved her legs in six-inch designer shoes. I briefly wondered who served as Mariah Carey’s hotel shower handrail, and if she was less trouble to travel with than Deb. Who knew a business trip to Louisiana would require so much diva maintenance?
Rebecca
Henry is an American author living in the UK. Her books range from
vegan cookbooks to fantasy to sci-fi to Rebecca's latest release with
Urban Edge Publishing, Louisiana Latte: A Chick Lit Comedy About
Sisters, Stilletos, Coffee, and One Fabulous Diva! You can find all
Rebecca's books on Amazon.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Peggy Jaeger will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Finding a body in the freezer of the family deli isn’t the way Madonna San Valentino planned to start her day.
Adding insult to injury, the investigating detective is the one guy she’s never been able to forget. After seven minutes of heaven in the back seat of his car when they were teenagers, Tony Roma skipped town without so much as a thanks for the memory.
Just when Madonna thinks the present situation can’t get any worse, Tony is ordered to go undercover at the deli to ferret out a killer. Forced to work together, she vows to keep their relationship cool and professional. But with the sexy, longing looks he tosses her at every turn, Madonna’s resolve is weakening.
With Christmas drawing closer and Tony’s investigation taking an unexpected turn, Madonna is at her wit’s end. Can she really be falling for him again? And will he wind up leaving her broken hearted and alone like the last time?
One look in the den and I felt like history was repeating itself because Giacomo’s twins were face down on the carpet, lying on top of one another, their limbs all twined together, grunting baby noises coming from deep down in their little bodies. Rocco, or maybe Carlo, was on top, unintentionally smothering his brother whose face he was sitting on, smashed flat into the carpet and making breathing impossible.
My brothers, engrossed in the game playing on television, were clueless to the potential disaster right in front of them.
I’d learned long ago yelling at them served no purpose. They were all masters at the art of ignoring me.
I made my way to the babies and, silently, lifted Rocco – or maybe Carlo – off his brother with one hand, the other flipping Carlo – or maybe Rocco – so he was supine. His little face was pale, his lips ringed with blue, but he took a huge breath, startled once, and then let out a bloodcurdling screech sounding remarkably like the wail his father had made back in his own baby days.
All five pair of male eyes turned to me at the sound. Not one of them moved from their comfy positions.
“Hey, Donna,” Giacomo said. “Everything okay?”
“Marvy,” I mumbled, hoisting a boy onto each hip, one of them silent, the other screaming like he was spewing out a lung or being dismembered. “I’m bringing the boys to their mother,” I said, wincing from the earsplitting shrieking. I wouldn’t be surprised if my left ear went deaf before the night ended.
Giacomo toasted me with his beer and said, “Thanks, sis,” his attention already focused back on the game.
In the kitchen I handed the screaming baby over to his mother and told her how I’d found her sons. It wasn’t my job any longer to discipline or try to guide my brothers. They had wives for that now. And from the look of abject fury on Margaret Rose’s face I knew Giacomo would be getting his comeuppance later on when they were home.
I didn’t feel an iota of pity for him.
With the fratricidal wannabe glued to my hip, I went back to the dining room and finally opened the wine bottle single handedly.
Peggy Jaeger is a contemporary romance writer who writes Romantic Comedies about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them. If she can make you cry on one page and bring you out of tears rolling with laughter the next, she’s done her job as a writer!
Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, she brings all topics of daily life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she’s created the families she wanted as that lonely child.
When she’s not writing Peggy is usually painting, crafting, scrapbooking or decoupaging old steamer trunks she finds at rummage stores and garage sales.
A lifelong and avid romance reader and writer, Peggy is a member of RWA and her local New Hampshire RWA Chapter.
As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at http://peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go "What??!"
Don't miss the Rafflecopter giveaway at the end of this post!
The Subway Girl
The Subway Girl Series Book 1
by
Lisa Becker
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy
CONTEMPORARY ROMANTIC COMEDY ABOUT FATE AND UNEXPECTED LOVE FROM AN AWARD-WINNING WRITER
"You don't find love, it finds you. It's got a little bit to do with
destiny, fate and what's written in the stars." Anais Nin
A hopeless romantic.
A cynical web show producer.
An unscrupulous cameraman.
A sleazy businessman.
An aspiring actress.
A womanizing best friend.
A scheming ex-girlfriend.
A commitment-phobic roommate.
An unlucky-in-love buddy.
These lives intersect when an average guy is awed by a gorgeous mystery
woman on a New York subway and vows to meet her.
Those catlike green eyes. That long, silky brown hair, flowing over her right shoulder from underneath a pink beanie. A radiant smile of straight, gleaming white teeth, lined up perfectly, sinking into a juicy magenta lip.
Ryan Carlson looked up after offering his seat to an elderly passenger and knew his life had changed forever. Leaning against a pole several feet in front of him on the crowded 1 train to Times Square stood the most exquisite woman he had ever seen. And, for just a brief beat, she was looking right at him, too.
In a moment, as quick and powerful as a strike of lightning, he knew he had to meet her. Yeah, right, approach a total stranger on the subway. He had no doubt he’d come off looking like a weirdo or a stalker, as there was certainly no shortage of those in New York City. He knew he was neither. Just a regular guy, a decent guy, looking for the right girl.
He took a moment to study her further. There was no engagement ring or wedding band on her finger, although she did wear a wide silver thumb ring. She was dressed in a pair of black workout pants, a gray sweater and that pink beanie.
She probably had a boyfriend. One look at her, and it was hard for him to imagine someone wasn’t already lucky enough to be with her. He’d been on the receiving end of betrayal and wouldn’t put someone else through that kind of hell. Men probably approached her all the time. But maybe she was single.
His mouth went dry as he tried to think of what he would say. He honestly didn’t know. It wasn’t like this situation had come up before. All he knew was he was determined to meet her. Maybe it was his fate to meet her. Yes. It’s fate. He was convinced of it.
His heart raced as he took a deep, calming breath. With sweaty palms, he grabbed the pole next to him and pushed forward while he considered his next move. As he got closer to the woman, he could hear her singing to herself under her breath, and her charming accent caused his stomach to clench in the most amazing way.
“Fifty-Ninth Street–Columbus Circle,” the conductor droned over the loudspeaker as the subway car rattled and whistled. The lights flickered, and when they came back on, the woman was no longer clinging to her pole. With rising panic, Ryan surveyed the car. She had managed to move toward the door just as the train pulled into the station. Ryan tried to keep an eye on the pink hat as passengers pushed to get off.
A large man with a bad comb over, dressed in a tattered brown suit and scuffed shoes, blocked Ryan’s way. Not wanting to be rude, Ryan gently shifted the shabby businessman aside. “Excuse me, getting off,” he muttered.
Ryan stepped off the train and stood on the subway platform, two exits before his intended stop, stretching onto his toes to look left and right, seeking out the pink beanie. He jumped up a few times, trying to see over the hordes of people exiting and entering the train.
“Watch it, asshole,” a woman carrying two reusable shopping bags said as she pushed her way past him.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” he responded. With each passing second, his mystery girl was getting farther and farther away. Knowing he had a fifty-fifty chance, Ryan turned left and traversed the packed underground tunnel, seeking her out. He walked back and forth, peering up and down staircases and escalators to no avail.
Lisa Becker is an award-winning romance writer who spends her time like
she spends her money - on books and margaritas. As Lisa’s
grandmother used to say, “For every chair, there’s a tush.”
Lisa is now happily married to a wonderful man she met online and
lives in Manhattan Beach, California with him and their two
daughters. So, if it happened for her, there’s hope for anyone!
1.Tell us something about your early
life—where did you grow up, family, etc.
I was born and
bred in Brooklyn, NY for the first 8 years of my life then moved to Staten
Island. This was way back when, when the Staten Island Ferry costs a nickel
both ways to ride. Now, I understand, it’s free.
2.What other jobs have your held?
I have a Master’s
Degree in geriatric psychology with a minor in Nursing Administration. I’ve
been a floor Registered Nurse, the head nurse of a nursing home Alzheimer unit
and for 20 + years I worked as a contact lens technician for my husband’s
clinic.
3.What initiated your publishing career?
I entered a contest in 2014, won my division,
and Rhonda Penders, the publisher of Wild Rose press was the final judge. She
emailed me after my win and asked to see the entire manuscript.
4.What genre/genres do you write?
RomComs, and
everything from sweet to sensual to steamy contemporary romance. I’ve recently
branched out into romantic suspense.
5.What are you working on now?
My next Christmas
novel which will be out in October 2020
6.What will we see from you in the
future?
On July 1 of this
year I have a standalone romance titled WOKE
releasing. It is a reconstructed version of a sleeping beauty fairtytale. In my
version, though, loves first kiss isn’t what wakes the heroine up!
7.What do you have for us today?
VANILLA
WITH A TWIST
Tandy Blakemore spends her days running her New
England ice cream parlor, single-parenting her teenage son, and trying to keep
her head above financial water. No easy feat when the shop's machinery is aging
and her son is thinking about college. Tandy hasn't had a day off in a decade
and wonders if she'll ever be able to live a worry-free life.
Engineer Deacon Withers is on an enforced
vacation in the tiny seaside town of Beacher's Cove. Overworked, stressed, and
lonely, he walks into Tandy's shop for a midday ice cream cone and gets
embroiled in helping her fix a broken piece of equipment.
Can the budding friendship that follows lead to
something everlasting?
For
a few moments, she regarded him with a look his mother would have called
insightful. The corners of her eyes narrowed, she dipped her chin a hair, and
she pulled her mouth into another appealing pout he was tempted to kiss.
“I
bet,” she said after a long, drawn-out sigh, “you were the kind of kid who took
apart clocks and fans and vacuum cleaners to see how they worked.”
“It
was more washing machines and lawn mowers and anything with a motor, but yeah.
I was.”
She
shook her head, her own lips forming a lopsided grin. “Your poor mother.”
“She
survived.”
Tandy
rolled her eyes and shot her hands to her hips. “So it’s working again?” She
thrust her chin at the ice cream machine.
“For
now.”
“Okay,
well, I can live with for now. And you think you know the real reason
it’s been acting up?”
“I
definitely do. But like I said, the water to the machine needs to be shut off
to fix it.”
“Okay.
Well, we close at nine.”
“I’ll
come back a little before then. Get things ready. Is that okay with you?”
“I
guess it’ll have to be.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek as her brows
pulled together. “And you’re sure you want to do this?”
“If
I weren’t, I wouldn’t offer, Tandy.”
Why
her reluctance to have him help was such a turn-on was something he considered
while he waited for his ice cream.
Peggy Jaeger, Author
Peggy Jaeger is a contemporary romance writer who writes Romantic Comedies
about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live
without them. If she can make you cry on one page and bring you out of tears
rolling with laughter the next, she’s done her job as a writer!
Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there
is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or
ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, she
brings all topics of daily life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry,
illness and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing
up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a
family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her
books, she’s created the families she wanted as that lonely child.
When she’s not writing Peggy is usually painting, crafting, scrapbooking or decoupaging
old steamer trunks she finds at rummage stores and garage sales.
A lifelong and avid romance reader and writer, Peggy is a member of RWA and her
local New Hampshire RWA Chapter.
As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her
at https://peggyjaeger.com
where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go
"What??!"
Fourth, and there is a fourth, he gets me all wound up and flustered.
And last, when he unexpectedly kissed me it made me forget my own name, or the fact that I’m getting married...in a month.
Please someone help me out. I’m a mess.
Worst part is, Ellis isn’t the bad guy I first thought he was.
And being forced to spend time with him is making me realize that
he needs my help more than anything.
So what’s a girl like me to do?
Ellis
I’m only in town long enough to figure out a plan with my brother on how to save our brewery from the awfulness that is my father. Oh and be in a wedding.
Where I may or may not be crushing a little too hard on the bride-to-be.
(spoiler alert, I'm crushing hard.) She’s really cute. Like seriously.
And she has the cutest job, she’s a dog wedding planner. (I kid you not.)
I can see why Henry loves her.
I can see why everyone loves her.
I can see why I’m falling for her.
I’m usually not a relationship-type guy. Call it picky or whatnot, but usually I get bored easily. So, my plan is simple. Spend as much time with Kiki (soon to be Faniki, I know) and hopefully get bored with her adorkable smile and sexy legs that go on for miles.
Then, I can save the brewery, be the best man of the wedding, and get my butt back to Chicago and away from the happy couple.
Have you ever had a goat walk all over your butt? I’m serious here. And somehow, I’m supposed to stay in a zen state as a baby goat tramples his little hooves all over my body?
My best friend, Lola, has had some nutty ideas in her life. ‘It’s all in the sake of a healthier lifestyle,’ she says.
Once, she had us paddleboarding. Which yes, nothing out of the ordinary. But, instead of starting in a lake, or in the intracoastal, she had us start on the beach.
It took us about thirty minutes just to paddle past each breaking wave. We had a little section of people on the beach cheering us on. I’m sure they just liked watching us wipeout.
Talk about a workout. I was so exhausted from fighting the waves I couldn’t go on any further.
Another time she thought it would be fun to head down to Miami and walk from South Beach to downtown. Which we did, but I wished I’d known ahead of time that was the plan. I thought we were heading south to party, because that is usually what one does in Miami. But, I wouldn’t have worn my favorite black heels.
Sure there’s wanting to be adventurous, but there’s a fine line between adventure and just plain silly.
And maybe this is it.
I’m not actually complaining because I’ve never been part of a routine where it has not benefited me greatly, but I just don’t quite understand bending yourself into the shape of a pretzel and then thinking, you know what this also needs? GOATS. Lots of little goats jumping all over us.
Yoga with Goats. Goga? Goga on. Super creative title. I know. You’re welcome.
Point is, Lola thinks it’s fun to try new things, and well Poppi and I should probably have our heads examined because we go along with whatever hairbrained plan she has.
I like to say we’ve gotten smarter, but this ...this right now...is insane.
“I’m pretty sure this goat just got to third base,” I whisper to Lola, trying to keep my yoga pose in check.
This is supposed to be a serene space. It’s got all the elements to make a person relax. Soft music. Beige walls. Hardwood flooring with blue yoga mats spaced equally around the place. Even the yoga teacher is the epitome of tranquility. Her name is Flower, I kid you not, and she has her hair piled into a wicked knot on the top of her head. Other yogis would be jealous.
“Close your eyes and work through the movements,” Flower purrs at the front of the class. “Now move into downward dog pose. Remember to make sure you don’t lose your goat.” Flower gives a sideways glance at Poppi. Her goat took off long ago and is now across the room eating a potted plant.
I stare at my goat, his big brown eyes stare back. “Please stay with me little guy,” I whisper as I move my body into downward facing dog while the goat balances perfectly on my ass. You could say my goat and I have gotten pretty close.
“Now move into crab pose. Keep your goat steady.”
Sweat trickles down from my forehead as I glance at the teacher who glides into the pose with ease, her goat looking like he’s riding out the perfect wave. “Are you going to get your goat?” I ask Poppi.
Her mouth drops open as she scans the room, locating her goat. “Nah, he seems pretty happy over there.” She waves a hand, and then focuses her attention back on me. “Also, I still can’t believe you’re engaged, Kiki.”
I bite my lip, trying my best to keep my inner yogi at peace. “It’s not too soon is it?”
Poppi’s elbows hit the mat as she stops posing. “No, it’s like a dream come true. Henry’s perfect.”
I smile. “He is perfect, right?” I still can’t believe I’m getting married. Me. Kiki Kingsley is engaged.
And Henry really is just soooooo perfect.
Even the way he proposed was perfection. We’d only been dating a month, and he took me out to La Pearl. It’s the type of place where you have to call months and months in advance to get into. I’d always wanted to go. I was ecstatic that he asked me, and I remember spending hours finding the perfect dress. It was a hot little red number with matching shoes.
And then it happened.
It was a little cliche, but still so romantic.
He ordered champagne to the table, and there was an engagement ring in the glass. Shock doesn’t even cover the expression I wore on my face.
When I glanced over to him, he was on one knee, asking me to be Mrs. Henry Faniki. I never even knew his last name, and I was saying yes over and over before I had the chance to put the two together. Kiki Faniki. Yes, my name will rhyme.
“Just the name,” I breathe out, keeping my pose and goat stable.
“Kiki Faniki, the first woman on Mars. See it sounds more prestigious when you put it doing something important,” Lola says.
“Breathe,” Flower huffs, staring in our direction, obviously not very happy with us. “And no talking.”
“But, I’ll never go to Mars,” I whisper back.
“You never know that.”
“I think that’s one thing I can say for certain. Ugh, I can’t have a rhyming name.”
“Don’t take his last name,” Poppi offers.
I shake my head. “No, I’ve always dreamed of taking the last name of my husband.” I close my eyes, trying to find my center of gravity as the baby goat I’ve named Peter tries his best to stay on. He’s kind of cute. All black fur with big brown eyes. He almost…no, I can’t say that. I can’t even think it.
But as the little goat stares back at me with his little triangular beard and big brown eyes, I can’t help thinking he looks a lot like Henry.
“Oh my god, my goat looks just like Henry,” I say to my friends.
Poppi laughs. “It’s just because you’re so in love. You’re seeing him everywhere you look.”
“So romantic,” Lola coos.
“It’s romantic that my fiance looks like a goat?”
“Girls, please,” Flower scoffs while moving into another pose, her body as bendy as Gumby.
We mimic her movements, trying not to laugh. I glance at my ring, the rock Henry proposed with. It shines and sparkles in all the right ways. I still can’t believe this is my life.
He told me he’d never met anyone like me before, and that he knew it was sudden, but he couldn’t stand living another day without me being his wife.
I about died of swoon fever (it’s a real condition, look it up) when he put the two-carat princess cut ring on my finger. I smile to myself, remembering back to the way his brown eyes centered on mine when he told me his five-year plan.
He said, “Marriage. Bang. Kids. Bang. Everything will fall into place with the perfect woman by my side. Then, I’ll make partner. Bang.’’
Me. The perfect woman.
We went home that night and made passionate love. Well, we would have, but Henry had had a bit too much champagne celebrating and passed out before the actual event of it all. But, it was still a perfect night.
“And just think, now you get to plan your own wedding,” Poppi says, getting back into the pose like Twisty-Curvy upfront who watches us with her evil eye.
Every girl has fantasized about their dream wedding since they were a little girl. And I am no exception to this rule. I want it to be right on the beach. I even know the spot, by the turtle sanctuary on Juno Beach where there’s a tunnel that leads from the parking lot, to the sand. You can’t be from Florida and not want a beach wedding. And yes, I want to walk out of the tunnel like walking down an aisle. I can almost see it. I close my eyes with a smile on my face as I try to picture it all with Henry.
“This goat is infatuated with my left boob,” Lola says, bringing me back to reality.
I pop open my eyes and try not to laugh as Lola tries to keep a crab pose steady as her own baby goat gnaws at her tank top.
“He thinks you’re his mother,” Poppi says as Flower gives her a nasty look. Poppi just glares right back at her.
“Well, I’m not.” Lola glances at the front of the class, trying to get the instructor’s attention, hoping she’ll stop class once she sees Lola’s goat sexually assaulting her.
And then it’s like everything takes a turn for the worse. As if the whole world explodes into slow motion. Poppi’s wandering goat tries to mount the Flower, and I try my best to stifle my laughter as she loses control and comes crashing down to her mat. “Will you please come get your goat,” she yells at Poppi.
Poppi stands and heads to the front of the class as quickly as she can.
I stop posing and hold Peter close to me.
But Lola has completely lost control of her animal, and he kicks his heels together and jumps off her. He’s been spooked and rushes to the front of the class, knocking over Flower and her goat.
It’s seriously like goats gone wild in here.
A few of the other goats trample around, trying to knock everyone and everything over in their path.
Peter bucks against my arms, and I can no longer hold him back.
And then the unimaginable happens. As if goats going crazy in a yoga studio isn’t bad enough, my engagement ring knocks loose, and Peter swallows it as I let out a howl.
“Noooooo. My goat ate my ring.” My squeals halt all the activity and everyone stands still, watching Peter with his little innocent face.
I can’t believe this is happening.
“Wow, goat yoga is intense,” Poppi says under her breath as the Flower looks like she could breathe out fire at any moment.
I think it goes without saying we all get kicked out. But, not until I’ve been assured by the farmer of the goats that we just have to wait a few days before I can get my ring back. Yes, you guessed it. I have to wait for a goat to poop out my engagement ring. I hope this isn’t an omen as to how my marriage will go.
Logan Chance is a USA Today and Top 20 Amazon Bestselling Author with a quick wit and penchant for the simple things in life: Star Wars, music, and smart girls who love to read. He was nominated best debut author for the Goodreads Choice Awards in 2016. His works can be classified as Dramedies (Drama+Comedies), featuring a ton of laughs and many swoon worthy, heartfelt moments.
Holly has a plan for everything. But she never could have planned for this.
If there’s one thing Holly Murphy loves, it’s a solid plan. She has her entire life figured out—or so she thinks. But when life pulls the rug out from under her, she’s left to deal with a canceled wedding—hers, to be precise. And the promotion she’s worked toward for years is now in jeopardy because the team she supervises doesn’t like her management style.
Yet when her boss gets wind of the idea and loves it, Holly finds herself in a corner she can’t get out of. And when handsome Nate Jones from Newport Beach gets picked to go with her, she wonders if this whole thing won’t be so bad after all.
Can Holly learn to let go? Or will this crazy adventure send her running right back to her safety net?
“Just a Name is a delicious escape! I devoured every character, every moment, and every quirk and couldn’t get enough. This book is Becky Monson at her finest!” -Author Whitney Dineen
“Becky Monson has outdone herself with Just a Name. It’s FANTASTIC! I’m still swooning.” -Author Jennifer Peel
“Fans of romantic comedies should grab a copy of Just a Name; it has the perfect balance between sweet and sassy.”-Readers’ Favorite
"Full of fun, swoon, and humor, all topped with unexpected twists. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in these pages!" -Katie's Clean Book Collection
"I loved it. Becky Monson is so good at writing humor into her books. Sarcasm and wit reign supreme right along with a slow growing romance." - Aimee Brown from Getting Your Read On
Excerpt of JUST A NAME
I hate today.
Which doesn’t bode well, since it’s only eight thirty in the morning.
This is par for the course with my life right now, since the past three weeks haven’t particularly been my favorite either. Before that—which feels like ages ago—I was feeling like I was on the right path. Like everything I had planned for myself was happening. And I actually remember thinking, “Life can’t get any better.” Clearly, I jinxed myself.
Because my life is not on track. Not even close.
Lately, every morning I wake up with hopes that this will be the day when things will look up for me. The day my life will take a turn for the better and I’ll get myself back on track. Apparently, today is not that day.
Right now, I’m sitting in an air-conditioned office, holding a piece of paper in my hands, staring at the words in front of me and trying to make sense of it all. The top of the paper, in bold lettering, says, “CT Anderson Bank,” and underneath it, “Holly Murphy—Supervisor Assessment.”
By day, Becky Monson is a mother to three young children, and a wife. By night, she escapes with reading books and writing. An award-winning author, Becky uses humor and true-life experiences to bring her characters to life. She loves all things chick-lit (movies, books, etc.), and wishes she had a British accent. She has recently given up Diet Coke for the fiftieth time and is hopeful this time will last... but it probably won't.
Giveaway Details
$50 Amazon Gift Code or $50 in Paypal Cash
Ends 11/27/18
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use money sent via Paypal or gift codes via Amazon.com. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. This giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
