Several questions are swirling through my mind at this hour of the night.
For example, when I try to stand, is this little paper toilet seat cover going to stick to my ass? Are my feet numb from the champagne or the magenta stilettoes I’m wearing? Or why am I sitting in the bathroom stall of a bar, staring at the sticky, alcohol laden floor? Not to mention the most important question of the night, one I will never admit out loud, why I can’t get the picture of the brunette, hanging on Paxton all night, plunging to her death from a cliff out of my head?
Oh, hell. I need to stop. There’s only one person who can distract me from my dumb, girl emotions. Laney.
Taking my phone from my clutch, I tap Laney’s name under my favorites. When it begins to ring, I stand up, wobbling a little while shimmying my panties up my legs and pulling the bottom of my gold mini dress back down from around my waist. A giggle slips past my lips when I think of the hot mess I am tonight.
As Laney’s voicemail echoes in my ear, I fall against the wall of the bathroom stall. “Dammit, Laney! I really wish you would’ve answered,’ I hollered into the phone unnecessarily. The sounds of feminine chatter drifting from two stalls down from girls making one last dash to the ladies room before the countdown. I lower my voice, “Happy New Year. God, I wish you were here.” I sigh. “You’d tell me like it is…you’d stop me from doing something stupid. But, you’re not here, and when I do that stupid thing, I’m going to blame you. Just a friendly warning.” Pausing, I stare at the writing on the side of the stall and admire the use of the words love and forever written in twirly letters full of hope. I’m sure the voicemail is going to shut off any moment, so I say my goodbye. “Anyway, I love you, Laney…like whoa and don’t you forget it.”
Ending the call, I glance at the time before opening my clutch and dropping it in. I have five minutes until midnight. Pushing the door open, I wobble my way out, slowly making it over to the sink. I wash my hands, drying them before I freshen up with a touch of hot pink gloss and a fluff of my hair. One final look and I approve.
Title: Love Wasted
Author: Shirl Rickman
Genre: NA Romance
She loves him. She loves him not.
When Cassandra Porter was seven years old, she fell in love with her next door neighbor and her best friends brother. Cass loved that boy every single day…until he broke her heart and all that remained were the pieces.
Ten years and what feels like a lifetime apart, that boy—now a grown and sexy, warm blooded man—is thrust back into her life. He might make her temper flair and blood boil, but a few unresolved feelings are no match for the way her heart races when he is near…
She drives him the good kind of crazy.
Paxton Luke led his life with one thing on his mind: success. Friends and family come first, with no room for emotional attachments—not even with the neighbor girl, who’s turned into a complete knockout. His sister’s best friend. Emotions only lead to love, and love was trouble.
They’re determined to fight this undeniable attraction to the bitter end. It’s too damn bad their hearts are about to get love drunk– wasted on love.
Shirl Rickman is a writer, a dreamer, and an optimist. A small town Texas girl currently residing in the San Francisco Bay Area, Shirl adores her husband, daughter, and two crazy dogs. When she’s not dreaming up new love stories, Shirl can be found reading, drinking her favorite coffee, Kona Blend with coconut milk. She loves kindness, laughing and meeting her readers.