by Susan Hatler
“Ms. Hatler has a way of writing witty dialogue that makes you laugh-out-loud throughout her stories.”
— Night Owl Reviews
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“I am a huge fan of Susan Hatler!!! I have yet to read a book I did not absolutely love!”
— Tifferz Book Reviewz
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“Hatler is my go-to girl for a sizzling clean romance with swoon-worthy kisses!”
— Books Are Sanity!!!
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“An Unexpected Date is a wonderful and perfect release to a stressful or crazy day.”
— Cafè of Dreams Book Reviews
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“I couldn’t help but smile and laugh at the antics that Ben and Sarah go through. I’m so excited for this whole series!”
— Katie’s Clean Book Collection re The Wedding Charm
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“Laughter, tears, misunderstandings, and puppies! Susan Hatler packed all the above into Million Dollar Date, the first book of her new series…that promises to delight her readers.”
— Among the Reads
Titles by Susan Hatler
Do-Over Date Series
Million Dollar Date
The Double Date Disaster
The Date Next Door
Date to the Rescue
Fashionably Date
Once Upon a Date
Destination Date
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The Wedding Whisperer Series
The Wedding Charm
The Wedding Catch
My Wedding Date
The Wedding Bet
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Blue Moon Bay Series
The Second Chance Inn
The Sisterhood Promise
The Wishing Star
The Friendly Cottage
The Christmas Cabin
The Oopsie Island
The Wedding Boutique
The Holiday Shoppe
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Better Date than Never Series
Love at First Date
Truth or Date
My Last Blind Date
Save the Date
A Twist of Date
License to Date
Driven to Date
Up to Date
Déjà Date
Date and Dash
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Christmas Mountain Romance Series
The Christmas Compromise
‘Twas the Kiss Before Christmas
A Sugar Plum Christmas
Fake Husband for Christmas
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Treasured Dreams Series
An Unexpected Date
An Unexpected Kiss
An Unexpected Love
An Unexpected Proposal
An Unexpected Wedding
An Unexpected Joy
An Unexpected Baby
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Young Adult Novels
See Me
The Crush Dilemma
Shaken (Mind Reader Series, 1)
Linked (Mind Reader Series, 2)
The Sisterhood Promise
Susan Hatler
The Sisterhood Promise
Copyright © 2015 by Susan Hatler
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
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Cover Design by Elaina Lee, For The Muse Design
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Epilogue
The Sisterhood Promise
Susan Hatler
Chapter One
Two weeks from now I might be known as the premiere event planner for Blue Moon Bay’s rich and famous, but my current state of employment had me smelling like fish from head to toe. You’d think as the owner of Olivia’s Occasions I could make enough to live on in my small coastal town in California. Nope. I had to keep working part-time in the seafood section at The Market just to squeak by. Thus, my constant fish aroma.
Soon my skin’s daily seafood stench would be a thing of the past. Well, I hoped.
As I sat bar-side at Scotty’s Seafood Restaurant, waiting for my best friend Wendy to arrive, I sipped my martini. She’d just arrived home from a trip to Japan with her boyfriend, and I couldn’t wait to tell her about my impending non-fish-related business opportunity.
Greta von Strand, millionaire and bestselling author of Men: Who Needs Them?—not to mention my idol—had just hired me to plan the event of a lifetime: a two-week luxury getaway for women to focus on their independence from men by strengthening their bond with themselves and each other. We named this event The Date Escape. I had to make everything perfect for this client, or my dream career would be dead in the water.
If I did manage to pull off this lavish ocean retreat, Greta planned to market The Date Escape big time. Her goal would be to hold the retreats twice per month and eventually take the events worldwide. Guess which event planner she would hire to keep these retreats running? That would be me. I finally had the potential to make my wildest dreams come true.
My chest tightened. Er, as long as I didn’t blow my chance.
“Olivia Lane!” Piper Lewis’s pixie face appeared in front of mine, as she blew out the sharp, crisp scent of a breath mint. “I haven’t seen you in forever. It’s been hard to keep in touch since I gave notice at The Market. Oh . . .” She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. “You still work there, huh? I know you love the seafood discount, but haven’t you been there since your teens?”
“Yes, Piper.” I forced a smile, even though Piper always managed to make me feel about two inches tall. But it wasn’t her fault she was petite and perfect with an effortlessly silky blond mane, whereas I was tall and lanky, and had to force my frizzy red hair into submission with a flat-iron every morning. Nor should she be blamed for having graduated from U.C. Santa Barbara, my first choice school, whereas I’d dropped out of college because I couldn’t settle on a major. What if I made the wrong choice? Any kind of change
scared me silly. I sighed, tilting my head. “How are you doing?”
“Can’t complain.” She slid onto the barstool next to me, holding a nearly empty glass of white wine in her French-manicured hand. “Just got a promotion at the bank and am here celebrating with several of my co-workers. I heard you’re, uh, trying to start your own business?” She bit her fingernail, tightening her face in a way that made it look like she found the idea painful. “That kind of came out of the blue, didn’t it? You never mentioned anything to me.”
“Olivia’s Occasions is already up and running, actually.” I straightened in my seat, and took a large sip of my martini. Just because my business was new didn’t mean the idea had come out of nowhere. I’d always loved organizing events, ever since my third grade birthday party. All of my invitations had been homemade, and I had an itinerary for each of my eight-year-old guests. I’d just never had the guts to pursue my passion as an adult. Well, not for an income anyway. “You’ll recall that I organize Blue Moon Bay’s Pumpkin Festival every year, which is very successful,” I reminded her.
“But that’s for charity,” she said, pooh-poohing that credential off my résumé in her perky voice. “They’ll take any volunteer willing to donate their time. It’s not like a professional event.”
I sighed, squeezing the stem of my martini glass. “Last summer, I planned the ten-year anniversary bash at The Market all by myself and they paid me for my time. Everyone raved about the party and how smoothly everything ran from advertisements to the actual event,” I said, knowing they could thank my triple-checking policy for that. “If it weren’t for me, the party place would’ve brought blue linens instead of red linens, even after I double-checked with their customer service the day before. Hello, people? The evening was called ‘For the Love of a Lobster’ and lobsters are not blue, not even close.” I chuckled, waiting for her to join in. She didn’t. I cleared my throat. “I saw you there that night with a date. What did you think of the event?” I asked, figuring she’d have no choice but to admit I’d rocked it.
“Hmm.” She drained the last of her wine, then pressed her palms against the bar top while glancing around. “I think I need another pinot gris.”
I stabbed one of the olives in my martini glass with a toothpick, thinking I might need another drink as well. Why couldn’t Piper admit I’d done a good job? She had the perfect life. Would giving me a tiny bit of praise really be that hard? I bit into the olive, the tart flavor bursting in my mouth as I focused on the scenery outside the bay window. The deep blue water of the Pacific Ocean sparkled under the golden sunlight, and my tension started to dissipate.
“Hey, you.” Piper’s perky voice rose several octaves as she spoke to someone behind the bar. “I’d adore another glass of your finest pinot gris. I just got promoted at work, so I’m celebrating. Yay! Well, I’m also reminiscing with my sweet friend here.” She wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against her, jerking my attention away from the ocean and giving me a mouthful of her blond mane. “We had the best time working together at The Market. Oh, I guess she actually still works there,” she said, giggling.
“Hilarious,” I grumbled, untangling myself from her surprisingly strong grip. Then, I glanced over the bar to see who she’d been talking to. My pulse immediately quickened.
Wow. Now he was gorgeous. Definitely not the bartender who had served me earlier.
This man who’d stepped behind the bar moved purposefully, looking like a model from a surfing magazine with his sun-kissed skin, golden hair, and eyes the color of the bay. He wore a red short-sleeved Scotty’s t-shirt, which emphasized his impressive biceps and showed off his muscular chest, and I couldn’t help but imagine the washboard abs that were surely under there as well. Shiver.
When had Scotty’s hired a new bartender? How in the world had I not noticed this handsome man earlier? And how much of our conversation had he overheard?
Suddenly, his gaze latched onto mine. “Hey there.”
My cheeks heated. “Hi.”
He swooped a wet cloth over the wooden bar. “I’m Brody Mitchell.”
“Olivia Lane.” The intensity of his gaze warmed my belly and I dropped my toothpick, hoping I didn’t have bits of olive stuck in my teeth.
“Um, Brody?” Piper wiggled her fingers at him. “My pinot gris? Also, your phone number and the time you get off work.” She pushed a pen and a white paper napkin toward him, then licked her bottom lip. “I’m in a very celebratory mood tonight.”
My eyes grew wide. Subtle. What man could resist that line from a beautiful woman?
As if on cue, he set a glass of wine in front of her, leaned down, then the corner of his mouth hitched up in a very sexy way. “Sorry. I only have eyes for red-heads.”
My tummy fluttered uncontrollably as I lifted my lashes to meet his gaze.
He straightened, then winked at me. “Get you another drink, lovely lady?”
“I’m fine right now,” I said, restraining myself from throwing my arms around this man. He’d just snubbed Piper Lewis for me. I wanted to kiss him.
“Just let me know if you need anything at all.” He smiled, then walked away to serve an attractive couple who had sat down at the other end of the bar.
“Well,” Piper said, as if that were a dirty word. She slipped her pen back in her purse, lifted her wine glass, and left the white napkin on the bar untouched. “I’d better get back to my co-workers. Good luck with your new business, Olivia. Hope it works out. Say hello to your mom and dad for me.”
“Take care, Piper.” I speared the second olive in my glass with the end of the toothpick and sucked it into my mouth quickly, enjoying the sour hit. Then I checked my cell in case I’d missed a text from Wendy. Nothing. She wasn’t late, though. I’d just arrived early. My conversation with Piper had made me anxious, especially since she’d mentioned my parents.
When I was young, everyone, including me, thought I had the perfect home life. My parents were supportive, adored my friends, and seemed devoted to each other. Then a few months ago my mom “reconnected” with her high school boyfriend online and left my dad, claiming she wanted to be in love again. Apparently “love” only existed with a guy named Junior, who talked incessantly about his high school glory days as the quarterback for the Blue Moon Bay Sharks.
My poor dad had the rug pulled out from under him. I could so relate to his situation.
Two months ago, I thought I’d met the man of my dreams. Well, I’d technically met Hunter Cartwright in elementary school before his family moved away, but back then he’d been a super shy kid who played with ants. Now, he’d turned into a major charmer, and a total hottie.
Hunter had returned to Blue Moon Bay from a high-powered Wall Street job to start his own boat-building business. He spent a whirlwind month wooing me with sails in the bay, waxing on about our future together, and he eventually swept me off my feet.
Next thing I knew, Hunter dumped me to get back together with his ex-girlfriend. Guess he got over her being a “selfish money-grubbing liar” (his words, not mine). I’d been left stunned, losing tears and sleep over him until I bought my copy of Men: Who Needs Them?
After I finished that inspiring book, I emailed the author, Greta von Strand, thanking her for her wisdom and asking if she’d ever thought of holding a teaching retreat. I even not-so-subtly mentioned Blue Moon Bay would be the perfect locale for such a retreat and gave her a few ideas. She called me to brainstorm the ideas I had in mind. A week later, The Date Escape was born and I was hired as the event planner.
My love life may have crashed and burned, but at least my career was on the rise. Woot!
I drained the last of my glass, excited to catch up with Wendy and hear the details of her trip to Japan. I’d also ask if I could borrow her Mercedes for the next two weeks. Her wheels would give me the right image to impress Greta von Strand and that so would not happen if I showed up at the mansion in Chutney, my beloved faded blue sedan who kept breaking down on me.
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When you have your mechanic on speed dial it’s probably time to buy a new car. But it felt too hard to part with her when we’d had so many good memories together. . . .
I’d had Chutney for eleven years, since high school, which was back when my four best friends and I were still tight. After graduation, Wendy went away to college and didn’t return until recently. Charlie married her high school sweetheart, who became a rock star and then cheated on her according to the play-by-play of her divorce in the tabloids. I hadn’t seen or heard from her in nine years. Megan and I were the only two of our posse who had stayed close. I missed our group and felt fortunate to have reconnected with Wendy after all these years.
But it was Charlie who had dubbed my car “Chutney” after my high school boyfriend and I’d had a little too much fun in my back seat and ended up knocking over our untouched Indian take-out dinner. Good times. But then we broke up and my poor car was stuck with a large chutney stain. Charlie thought this was hilarious. She’d made me laugh by teasing me over and over. My mind shot to Greta’s guest list for the women’s retreat, which included Charlie Rockwell, ex-wife to rock star Rex Rockwell. Funny how things had come full circle.
