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"This is the first in a new series and it doesn't disappoint. This is a fast paced story that will quickly dreaw you in. The characters are fun and quirky, I loved their descriptions and that the hero is a bit odd and not off the pages of a magazine"
-Kristine
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" You thinking about eating, honey? Our breakfasts are real nice.”
The waitress made a weak gesture toward the leather tablet of a menu, unopened in front of me.
“We got some real nice specials, real hearty..." The waitress halted, her hesitation barely registerable. "Or, I’ll get the cook to wrangle you something else up, if nothing catches your eye.”
She seemed like a parade float for a moment. Grinning and shifting above me, festooned with bright makeup and earrings and bolstered by something unnatural. She was making me uncomfortable and I hadn’t dragged my misery soaked self into this booth to feel any worse.
Who was I kidding?
Obviously. I was delusional. If I didn’t think everyone in town would know about what had happened by this morning. I was truly as stupid as I currently felt.
O.K, sure, I was a 22-year-old virgin who had saved herself for a wedding that was doomed from the start, and although technically that made me naive, I wasn’t an idiot. Easily duped, maybe?
I looked around the hotel restaurant, examining the handful of other patrons. Their faces, in all thier careful ignorance of my presence, felt like weights. They held me down to where my exhausted behind sunk deep into the upholstry.
They knew. I could see it in the way they all seemed to so heavily absorbed in whatever egg blast they were chasing around thier plates. There was no chatter - I knew when I'd sucked the light out of a room. I wasn't THAT naive.
I knew damn well that every member of staff knew too. After all, I was the girl who rolled in, literally out of her mind with fury, only the night before. How could they not?
After all, I'd been the one in the wedding dress who'd checked into the honeymoon suite alone. I was the girl who had ignored every polite knock from housekeeping and who had, apparently, drank an entire bottle of 1200-dollar champagne on her own.
I would’ve probably devastated the damn mini bar too, if I hadn’t passed out beforehand.
The charming hamlet of Cunningham was definitely full of morons, but you’d have to be close to brain dead not to figure my little drama out.
I shut my eyes for a moment – so many apologies and explanations were in order. I’d have to do so many afternoon visits, stop on the street for so many painful chats and sympathetic hugs. Each and every person my family had ever known going back to the Mayflower cousins would be contriving reasons to drop in or drop a line.
In fact, I’m pretty sure my phone was practically a-flame by now. There had to be at least three texts from each member of this close knit community waiting for me- from the woman who did my mom's nails to my father's squad of retired lawn enthusiasts.
“Honey?” The waitress again. “You O.K.? You drifted off on me there. Tell you what.” She was hunkered down beside my table. I looked away, careful not to get caught up in her badly applied lashes again. “Let me get you a biscuit or something. Something real plain. Something to settle your stomach before you pour anything else down there. Maybe some gravy? Just to get something in you.”
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