FRENCHED
By
Melanie Harlow
Release:
March 18, 2014
A Sexy Adult Contemporary Romance
Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Mia Devine plans over-the-top weddings for a living. So when it
comes to her own nuptials, she spares no expense—hand engraved invitations,
Vera Wang gown, luxury honeymoon in France. And since her fiancé is Tucker
Branch, playboy heir and notorious flirt, local media is obsessed with every
little detail.
Which is why it really sucks when he jilts her a week before the
wedding.
Mortified, Mia wants nothing more than to crawl under her newly
monogrammed sheets and plan a funeral for her dignity, right after blabbing to
the world how fitting it is that Tucker will inherit a bolt and screw company,
because that’s all he wants to do—screw, and bolt. And he doesn’t do either
with much finesse.
When her friends convince her that bitter tastes better when
it’s drowned in Bordeaux, she grits her teeth and packs her bags, determined to
make the best of a week in Paris alone.
She never planned on meeting Lucas Fournier.
The free-spirited musician’s scruffy good looks and
less-than-sympathetic ear annoy her at first, but when she takes him up on his
offer to show her around the city, she discovers that the romance of Paris
isn’t just a myth.
Nor is the simultaneous O.
The last thing Mia needs is another doomed love affair, but
since she only has a week, she figures she might as well enjoy La Vie en O with
Lucas while she can. But each day—and night—with him is better than the last,
and suddenly her heart is telling her this is more than a rebound fling.
Is it just the seduction of Paris…or could this be the real
thing?
.jpg)
Excerpt
Mia and Lucas Meet
“You hate flying, yet you want to get on
another plane first thing in the morning?”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
Shaking my head, I insisted, “Yes, I do.
You don’t understand.”
“Sure I do. Your fiancé called off the
wedding and you’re angry and sad or whatever because you’re getting close to
your marriage deadline or whatever, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good
time here. You came all this way, even though you hate to fly. There must have
been a reason.”
Oh, yeah. That’s why I was annoyed with him.
Aggravated anew, I sat taller on my
seat. “The reason was that I’ve
always wanted to see Paris. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a kid. I had
every day planned out, I knew exactly what we would do, the things we would
see. And I thought I could handle it on my own, but now that I’m here, I can’t,
OK? I can’t handle all the love and romance and fucking happiness all around me
when I was supposed to be here on my honeymoon! It isn’t fair!” My voice was
rising and several people glanced my way, especially since I thumped my hand on
the bar with my last word. But how dare he ruin my buzz and the tenuous peace
I’d made with myself about going home!
He shrugged. “Lots of things in life
aren’t fair. Doesn’t matter what city you’re in.”
I rolled my eyes as all the attitude
progress I’d made during my second glass of wine came undone. “Spare me the
platitudes. I’ve heard a boatload of them in the week since I was
unceremoniously dumped—via text message, mind you—seven days before my goddamn
wedding.”
Lucas regarded me carefully. “You’ve got
a problem.”
Brilliant, this asshole. “Yes. My
problem is that I’m on my honeymoon, alone.”
“That’s not your problem.”
My jaw fell open. Who the hell was he to
tell me what my problem was? He went on before I could protest.
“Your problem is that you thought things
were going to be one way and they’re not. You’re not even telling me you miss
the guy who was supposed to be here with you. You just don’t want to be here
alone because that wasn’t the plan.”
“That is not what I said!”
He laughed. “That’s exactly what you
said.”
“Well…” I flapped my hands. “That’s not
what I meant. I’m flustered. And drunk.”
“So you do miss him? Because I don’t see a heartbroken girl here in front
of me. I see someone who’s angry that her relationship ended badly mostly
because it ruined an idea she had
about the perfect life. And she flew all the way here, but even Paris isn’t
enough to distract her from the fact she didn’t get exactly what she wanted
when she wanted it.”
“It was more than an idea! It was real. At least, it felt real…most of the
time.” My spine curled as the fight left my body. Even my voice weakened. “But
what do I know?”
He spoke softer too. “Want to know what I
think?”
“No.”
He held up his hands. “Fair enough.”
I put my credit card on the bar. “I want
to pay my bill and leave.”
“The wine is on the house.”
“Because you feel sorry for me?” I
snapped. God, Mia, just shut up. Why
I was letting this guy get to me, I had no idea. Wasn’t I in this bar because I
felt sorry for myself?
He hesitated before answering. “Yes.
Originally, I felt sorry for you because some asshole treated you wrong. But
now that I know a little more, I think he did you a big favor. Now I feel sorry
for you because you’re going to let one bad day ruin a dream that you’ve had
for such a long time. You know, if you leave tomorrow, I bet you never come
back. I bet you’ll always think of Paris as a miserable, lonely place.”
I opened my mouth to argue and then
closed it. Was he right? Was I letting one bad day speak louder than a lifetime
of dreaming about Paris?
“But I’d also bet you’re stronger than
you think.”
I met his eyes, and they were serious.
Was he right? I’d known coming here wouldn’t be easy, but I’d gotten on that
plane. Cocking my head, I asked, “Were you a psych major or something?”
He grinned. “Double major—music and
psychology. Graduate degree in psych. Look, I know we just met, and I do tend
to analyze people and open my big mouth when I should probably just keep my
opinion to myself. But when you walked in here alone and looked around, I
thought, There is a woman who knows what
she wants. That confidence is sexy.”
“But I’m not confident.” The words came
out like a whimper as I stared down at my left hand, where my ring used to be.
I wondered where it was now—I’d thrown it in the toilet, but Coco had rescued
it.
“Yes, you are. You’re just a little
scared right now.”
Exhaling, I looked up at him through my
lashes. “You argue with everything I say. It’s really annoying.”
“Sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
“How?”
He thought for a moment. “Well, let’s
make a deal. You agree to give Paris one more day, and I’ll agree to spend the
day being your tour guide—no psycho-analysis, I promise. If you’re still
miserable even when you have a friend by your side, you can grab a flight home
the next day. I’ll even call the airline for you.”
“A friend, huh?”
“You think about it.” He moved down the
bar to fill drink orders, and I checked out his ass again.
It really was cute.
.jpg)
About the Author
Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her
history with the naughty bits left in. I write New Adult historical and
contemporary stories.
No comments:
Post a Comment