by Ann Omasta
Andrew has moved into my place. He hadn't been enjoying doing the same tired show over and over for a lukewarm audience in Vegas every night. Before the producers approached him about the reality show, he had been considering moving back to our hometown to spend more time with his family anyway.
This tidbit makes me wonder if we would have run into each other and fallen in love, even without the nudge––okay, shove––from the show's producers. I'm guessing that we would have. We were obviously destined for each other. It just took Andrew a few years longer than me to realize it.
I smile to myself, thinking how he seems to be so incredibly happy with his work since he started his new business offering comedy magic shows for parties. He enjoys the more intimate setting that offers true interaction with his audiences. In the few short weeks since he started his new venture, he has already performed at several children's parties and now he has an adult-only version of his show ready to go for a bachelorette party next weekend.
Things are truly falling into place for us. That's why the out-of-the-blue phone call threw me for a bit of a loop.
I light a candle on our tiny dining room table, mulling over the conversation I just had and trying to determine how I feel about it. I'm not at all sure what Andrew's reaction will be when I tell him.
Evidently, I won't have to wait too long because I hear him close the door and hang up his keys. "Hi, Gorgeous," he beams at me before pulling me into a giant bear hug.
He pulls back to kiss me hungrily. I am tempted to move things to the bedroom before dinner like we usually end up doing. Tonight I need to talk to him, though, so I pull back to say, "Dinner's ready."
"Mmm, I'm starving and it smells delicious...almost as delicious as you."
We settle at the table with our plates piled high with spaghetti. "What's all this?" he asks me, indicating the wine and candle.
"Me trying to butter you up." I give him a mischievous grin.
"Uh oh," he teases me before turning serious and adding, "Anything for you. Just name it."
I like his open-ended acceptance of my mystery request, but I'm not sure if he'll feel as agreeable when he finds out what I want. I take a gulp of my white wine before telling him, "T.J. called me today."
His brow immediately furrows with distaste. "Ah, the jerkwad who tried to pay us not to be together."
"Yes, him," I smile at my fiancé. Deciding to start with flattery, I say, "It seems that the reality television world loves us and they want more of us."
Andrew drops his fork and looks at me like I have gone crazy. "I'm not doing some kind of newlyweds show where they follow us around and devise problems to try to split us up."
"Oh, no, I wouldn't do anything like that," I assure him.
"Are they sending us on another Cruise for Love?" he asks.
"We already found love," I remind him, but the enamored way he's looking at me makes it clear he already knows that. "Actually, they want us to get married in Las Vegas. They'll pay for the entire wedding AND give us $100,000!"
"What's the catch?" Andrew is very suspicious of anything related to Croc and his cohorts.
"They just want to film the wedding prep and our nuptials to stream for the world to see."
"A ready-made wedding video?" he smiles at me, and I sense that he is starting to warm to this idea, as I am...What is the harm? Why not? At my nod, he asks me, "Is this what you want?"
I consider the question. The show brought about major humiliation, heartache, and hurt feelings in me, but it also made it possible for me to reconnect with the man of my dreams. I shrug my shoulders, still not completely sure that this is a good idea, but excited about it nonetheless.
Making a snap decision, I say, "I'm in."
He studies me for a moment, his lids lowered. "If you're in, I'm in," he tells me. "Let's do this."
Don't miss the other books in The Escape Series:
Aloha, Baby! ~ A prequel novella
Being pregnant and alone is not a situation Leilani Kehele thought she would ever be facing. Nevertheless, that is exactly how she finds herself in Aloha, Baby! Feeling like a disappointment to her family, Lani turns to her two handsome and loyal best friends, Kai and Honi, for advice. In an attempt to arrange the best possible outcome for this challenging scenario, the three hatch a plan to give Lani's baby a father. Will it work? Will Lani and her baby discover their happily ever after ending? Escape into the enchanting Hawaiian islands with Leilani, Kai, and Honi by reading this heartwarming tale of friendship, love, and triumph after heartbreak.
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**Kindle Scout Winning Book** Getting Lei'd
Being jilted almost-at-the-altar by text message is not at all how prim and proper Roxy Rose thought her wedding day would go. Getting dragged on her Hawaiian honeymoon by her excessively self-centered sister and outlandishly irreverent grandma is the icing on the horrible wedding day cake. Can Kai, the resort’s hunky and talented chauffeur/bartender/flame-thrower, turn this disaster of a trip into a romantic adventure to last a lifetime? Or will his mysterious secrets keep their love from blossoming? Escape with Roxy into the enchanting Hawaiian Islands as she finally discovers the joys of hanging loose and “Getting Lei’d.”
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Bonus Excerpt from Getting Lei'd:
Chapter 1
Jilted at the altar. These are words that I never in ten trillion years would have thought could apply to me. Okay, technically, I’m not at the altar yet, but I’m already in the white dress. Besides, getting jilted by text message should count for double or triple points, right?
I keep looking from my cell phone to the full-length mirror in the coatroom-turned-bridal party–prep-area in the quaint, white steepled church, which my fiancé and I had recently started attending because I envisioned it as the perfect place to exchange marital vows. The reflection staring back at me from the mirror with big brown eyes is beautiful, and I’m not one to say that (or even think that) about myself. Well, my likeness would be beautiful, if it weren’t for the mouth hanging wide open in shock.
The ladies in the room with me are bustling around excitedly. My eyes blink quickly as I work to process the sterile text message and attempt to devise a way to share the bombshell news.
Time seems to slog slowly past. I stare at the mirror and a bride gazes back at me. I tilt my head to the side, wanting one last glimpse of her in all her Swarovski-crystaled glory. What I am about to say will ruin her big day.
When I finally speak, my voice sounds croaky and muffled, almost like I am underwater. “The wedding is off.”
The room goes silent. Everyone is completely still for a moment. I guess they were able to hear my life-altering, shocking mumble.
My practical, ever-rational mother is the first to speak. “Don’t be silly, dear. Everyone gets wedding day jitters. Just smile and say your vows. It will all be over in a jiffy.”
I cringe slightly at her attempt to comfort me. The fact that she views a wedding day as something to quickly move through, rather than a blessing to cherish as one of the most wonderful gifts that life has to offer, speaks volumes about her relationship with my dad. I can’t focus on that right now, though.
Mother begins moving about the room as if her dismissive words negated my previous statement. I guess she thinks telling me to 'get over it' will make everything fine. In my mind, I picture her checking 'soothe high-strung daughter' off her list of things to do today.
The other women in the room remain motionless. Their eyes roam around uncertainly while their bodies remain frozen in whatever position they were in when I made the announcement. I feel hysterical laughter beginning to bubble up inside me. They look like they are playing a grown-up version of the game 'freeze dance' and the music has just stopped.
Mother just doesn’t get it. I watch her fluff the deep purple ribbons on my bouquet of daisies as she shuffles about, busin
ess as usual. She’s going to lose the game, I think, and I’m horrified to hear the impending giggles burst out of me.
Since we aren’t playing the musical game, my maniacal chortling serves as the catalyst for resumed activity. Suddenly, I am surrounded by five of the ladies I love most on this earth. There are only five because my best friend, Lizzie, is conspicuously absent, and now I know why.
I turn my phone so the group can see the text from my now-former husband-to-be, Gary. I watch as they each read the words, some of them moving their lips as they do so. The shock, pity, and outrage move in waves throughout the group.
“What in tarnation?” This outraged question comes from my wildly irreverent grandma, Baggy. Although she looks like a sweet (although slightly shriveled) little old lady with her freshly set silver curls, bright pink lipstick, and lemon-yellow sweater, she is anything but. “He can’t do this. I’m going to give that snot-nosed little wiener a piece of my mind.” With that, she whirls around, shaking her white leather Aigner handbag in the air like a battle weapon.
If I weren’t hysterical, I would be amused by her typical show of spunk. Baggy has never been the typical grandmother who sits quietly in her rocking chair knitting red mittens. Even as a child, I had known my grandma was different. In fact, her nickname, Baggy, was my toddler version of “Bad Grandma.” The moniker is so appropriate that it has stuck to the point that everyone now calls her Baggy.
“Mother, no.” My mother grabs Baggy’s arm as she smoothly slides into her usual role as the voice of reason. She relishes this responsibility, even with her own parent. She glares down at Baggy through her half-glasses, which are precariously perched on the end of her nose. I decide that one of my mother’s odd talents is having glasses that always look like they might fall off at any moment, yet somehow managing to keep them on. It is a trick that works great for intimidation—that and her five-foot-nine height, which she uses to full advantage.
Looking at the two of them, I wonder—not for the first time—how Baggy survived my mother’s birth. Baggy has shriveled slightly with age, but she was always diminutive, and my mother is not what anyone would describe as a small woman. She can’t possibly have been a tiny baby.
Baggy tries to yank her arm free as she lets out a rallying cry for the group. “We won’t let that good-for-nothing, low-life bag of worms get away with this.” She continues to hold her purse with her free fist in the air.
Realizing she can’t break away from her daughter’s firm grip, Baggy tries to start a chant. “Get Gary. Get Gary.” The women in the room look around seeming uncertain of what to do. A few of them join in before the chant peters out.
Once the chant fizzles, Mother decides Baggy is not as much of a flight risk and loosens her hold on her forearm. Baggy seizes the opportunity and tries to make a break for it. As Mother realizes what is happening, she whirls around to try to stop Baggy.
In her haste, Baggy trips over my sister’s heels, which she has left in the middle of the room (in typical Ruthie fashion). Baggy agilely tucks and rolls her tiny body—just like she always claims she’ll do when falling—in order to avoid breaking a hip.
My formidable mother fails to let go of Baggy and falls much less gracefully than her elderly, spry mother.
The rest of us stand there looking at Mother and Baggy for a moment, uncertain if either has been injured. When Baggy shakes her head, her pin curls don’t budge. She proceeds to spring up like the Energizer bunny before saying to her daughter, “Get up, you big weenie. I have almost twenty-five years on you, and I’m fine.”
I hold my hand out to help Mother stand. She is much larger and less agile than Baggy, and it takes both of my hands to help heft her up. She groans once she is upright and puts a hand on her back, wincing a little.
“You just need to learn how to fall,” Baggy tells her, putting her hand on Mother’s shoulder. “You’ve never been a good faller,” she adds seriously.
Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the entire situation sinks in with me, and I begin to giggle again. The whole group turns their attention back to me as the laughter turns to tears.
“Well, let’s go then.” Baggy pulls me out of the room. This time no one tries to stop her, and I silently pray that she isn’t dragging me off to “Get Gary.”
With Baggy, it’s hard to tell what “get” means. He might not survive it. Although I’m completely humiliated and furious, I don’t wish the man dead, but with my wild grandma, you just never know.
Getting Lei'd on Amazon.
Looking for a new book to read?
Check out THE KEYS TO MY DIARY ~ Fern
Would YOU like to take a peek inside my diary? I guess I'm jumping ahead...we haven't even been introduced. My name is Fern Burns. (Yes, I know it is a ridiculous moniker. If you met my flighty mother, you would understand.) I am 42-years-old. By some wonderful stroke of good luck, I live in the beautiful, tropical Florida Keys. Oh, and I am not your typical Contemporary Romance heroine.
In this journal, I share the sometimes wacky, often wild, and always entertaining stories of my life for the year. From the love-hate relationship I develop with the book, The Secret, to having to deal with cursing parrots and a road filled with skittering crabs, the summations of my offbeat daily life should make for an interesting and fun read.
I treat my diary like my best friend as I openly write about my hopes and dreams, my thoughts and fears, and my triumphs and embarrassments. This is a particularly exciting year because I finally meet the man of my dreams! Or is he?
This fast-paced story is an intimate look inside my life as I go all-in and hand over the keys to my diary. Go ahead…Take a PEEK!
Click here to purchase on Amazon
Do you like it steamy?
If you enjoy spicy contemporary romance novels with complicated love-triangles, check out THE DAVIS TWINS SERIES. Seth and Sam Davis are both sexy and irresistible. Who will you choose? #TeamSeth #TeamSam
Spice-o-meter Rating: This fun, steamy romance features the ultimate love triangle. It is a solid 7.5, maybe an 8, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being Mild (Grandma's diary - let's hope!) and 10 being Ooh La La, I'm blushing, but I can't seem to stop turning the pages (The Fifty Shades of Grey Red Room of Pain).
In Taking Chances, we meet Abigail Brown, a 28-year-old divorcee who has never had an orgasm, much to her chagrin. Despite being self-conscious about what she considers to be her body's failings, she has built a terrific life for herself in the quaint, lakeside town of Harbor Shores, Michigan. Abby thinks that she has discovered her happily ever after when she stumbles upon the perfect man, but some unexpected surprises come along and completely shake up Abby's world.
Abby needs to make some difficult decisions in Making Choices. Who will she choose? Who should she choose? She has made a mess of her life. Will she be able to fix it or is it too late?
Faking Changes features the story of Abby's troubled best friend, Courtney. Courtney has arisen from a background filled with abuse and hardship. She has seen the dark side of humanity and experienced horrors that her tightknit group of friends can't begin to imagine. Although she has transformed her life, she can't escape the inferiority complex that makes her feel like an imposter who just doesn't belong. Will she be able to find happiness with the 'unchosen' twin, or will the secrets of her past haunt her forever?
Book 1 ~ Taking Chances
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Book 2 ~ Making Choices
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Book 3 ~ Faking Changes
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About the Author – Ann Omasta
These bios are generally rather dry, so I thought I'd shake up the format a little bit. Here are ten not-so-interesting tidbits about me:
1. I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin.
2. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle.
3. If I don't make
a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea - I love it all.
4. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a big dog who is overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return.
5. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dog referenced above.
6. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word.
7. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home.
8. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie 'Sleeping with the Enemy,' but I can't seem to control this particular quirk.
9. I love, love, love finding a great bargain.
10. Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great - now I'm thinking about it. Ick
On a serious note, I hope that you enjoyed reading this book as much as I loved writing it!
Now is the time to help other readers. Many people rely on reviews to make the decision about whether or not to buy a book. You can help them make that decision by leaving your thoughts on what you found enjoyable about this book.
