CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
"Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now"
Published in the anthology "Second Chance For Love" from Satin Romance
Released April 26, 2016
'Celebrity photographer Rebecca thought her life was perfect, until she walked in on her husband and the nanny—in bed. A drunk phone call later, she’s managed to snag the most sought after male nanny in Los Angeles. Months later, at her best friends urging, she dives back into the dating pool, but will she end up with Mr. Right Now, or will she realize Mr. Right is already at home with her kids? '
Available from the following retailers (and more!)
Amazon Kindle (Free on KU!)
Lulu.com (Print)
What reviewers are saying:
" If you are a fan of romance and believe in second chances, this book is the one for you." ~ booklover via Amazon Review
"...like the fact the characters are all well developed - something I find often missing from romance short stories." ~ penguin @ Amazon Reviewer
Excerpt:
The sound of bells jolted Rebecca from a dead sleep.
“Ugh,” she groaned, her head pounding. She opened her eyes a crack, the gauzy white curtains hanging in her guest bedroom window did nothing to dilute light pouring through, nearly blinding her. She cast a glance at the clock on the nightstand; 12:45 PM.
“Oh my, God…” she mumbled. “It’s so late.”
The bells continued. She cast her bleary eyed gaze around her bedroom, finally realizing the sound was coming from her cellphone on the pillow beside her. She slid her finger across the word ANSWER on the screen in front of her, not paying attention to the number on the caller ID.
“Hello, may I speak with Rebecca Woods?” a male voice asked in response to her barely coherent greeting.
“This is she?” Who would be calling her?
“Hi, my name is Simon O’Shea. I received a voicemail from you last night. I apologize I was unable to answer at the time.”
“Wait, what did you say your name was?”
“Simon O’Shea?” he repeated, this time a question.
She blinked in confusion before bits and pieces of her drunken night returned to her. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Had she drunk dialed this man.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I may have had a little too much to drink last night. Did I say why I called?”
She could hear him holding back laughter as he answered. “I’m a nanny. You called, said you were in need of my services.”
“I did?” she asked before the picture cleared in her mind. “I did!” Her eyes shot open as she realized she did in fact call this man. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut once more to block out the pesky sunlight.
“You said you were in desperate need of my services. I’m free today if you’d like to schedule an interview.”
“Today?” she repeated, wondering if she’d be able to function enough for an interview.
“I’ve got interviews with potential families all week,” he replied, his voice full of regret. “I know it’s short notice, but this is the only time I have open.”
Rebecca clenched the hand that was not holding the phone into a fist and hit herself in the side of the head, hating Jessica for not cutting her off at the bar sooner. She did need to get someone hired to watch her kids though, as soon as possible.
“Ms. Woods?” Simon asked.
“Yes,” she replied quickly. “What time today?”
“I’m available at three,” he answered. “I usually come to the potential clients’ house. Does that work for you?”
“Uh…” She looked around at the chaotic state of the guest bedroom, knowing the rest of the house wasn’t much better at the moment. “Sure,” she reluctantly agreed.
“Great.” His voice was peppy. She hated him at that moment, because she was hung over and he, clearly, was not. She gave him her address and they disconnected the call.
“Shit,” she complained, drawing the word out to emphasize just how crummy she felt.
She fell back onto the pillow and squeezed her eyes tight against the damn sunlight, throwing an arm over her face for good measure, and allowed herself thirty more seconds to wallow in self pity, before rolling carefully out of the bed and waddling to the shower.
She stripped out of the clothes she’d put on the previous morning, the last morning before her life spiraled out of control. She wadded the clothing into a ball and threw them into the corner of the bathroom, deciding to throw them out later. She never wanted to see them again, a constant reminder of what that bastard husband of hers had done.
She stepped into the large shower and turned the water to hot, hoping to scorch the pain and fury from her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, collapsing onto the built in shower seat, remembering the good times she and her husband had had in this stall. The next thing she knew, she was curled up in a fetal position on the shower stall floor, under the hot spray, and sobbing like a child.