Luck of the Draw, an all new sassy and fun novella from New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank and A.R. Casella is available now!
Life’s not a fairytale for women like me, divorced and creeping up on middle age…until a hot younger man finds my lost shoes.
Crashing weddings is so not my thing. I’d much rather stay home and watch HGTV . . . and ignore the fact that my life is messier than those fixer-upper houses. Because my jerk ex left, and the only thing keeping a roof over my sons’ heads is my crappy telemarketing job.
But then I get a challenge from the Bad Luck Club, the group I joined to turn my luck around: Do something that breaks the rules. One ill-advised confession to my best friend later, I’m strapping on a pair of heels and crashing the wedding of two of the owners of Buchanan Brewery.
The last thing I expect is to meet someone, let alone the sexy younger bartender who calls me out and finds my lost shoes, something straight out of Cinderella. And the very last thing I expect is to fall for him.
It feels like I’m in a dream come true, a fairy tale, but the crap part about dreams is that they have to end.
Or do they?
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Excerpt
Good grief, the way Dylan had slid off my flats and put my heels back on…it had lit an actual fire inside of me. Randy had never done anything even close to as romantic as that. His idea of romance was watching Discovery Channel’s Alaskan Bush People in bed, rolling over to cop a feel of my breasts, then getting pissed when I didn’t jump from zero to sixty. When was the last time a man had looked at me like this? A very, very long time. If ever. I lifted my chin slightly, the beaten-down part of me embarrassed that Dylan was staring at me so intently, but the rest of me wanted to be the person he seemed to see—a sexy, intriguing woman. I scraped my bottom lip with my teeth, and his gaze followed the movement, his hand tightening over mine. Another pulse of heat filled my core, and I barely restrained the gasp rising in my throat. “What kind of challenge?” I asked, shocked at my coyness. He grinned, taking a step backward toward the dance floor and holding my hand up like he was a duke at a Victorian ball. The dance floor? He wanted to dance with me? Was he crazy? But something about him told me that this was just as uncharacteristic for him as it was for me. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was just a game for him. Maybe he bartended weddings every weekend and met all kinds of women. Maybe he picked one every night and looked at her the same way he was looking at me now. He was certainly hot and charming enough to pull it off. The flood of disappointment and jealousy made me stumble. He stopped, concern filling his eyes, and leaned in close, his lips next to my ear. “I will never ask you for what you aren’t willing to give, Cinderella.” Then he added, “Like your Netflix password.” I couldn’t stop my giggle. I was sure the strong drink I’d just downed wasn’t helping. Despite his joke, he was solemn when he said, “If you’d rather not do this, just say the word.” His breath was hot on my neck, and a wave of desire rolled through me. All I could think was that I wanted to be in Dylan’s arms. I wanted to touch his chest and feel his body against mine. I wanted this as much as he did. “No,” I said as I pulled back to look into his amber eyes. “I want to dance with you.” It occurred to me that I’d have no good explanation if Blue or Lee saw me. Especially if I was dancing with the bartender. But when Dylan looked at me like that, his mouth just inches from mine, he filled my every thought. I wanted to dance with him, and to my surprise, the potential of getting caught added a little thrill. A slow smile tugged at his lips—very kissable lips—and I resisted the urge to close the distance and see what he tasted like. Because we were playing a game of seduction, and I very, very much wanted to be seduced.
About Denise Grover Swank
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten ho uses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
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About A.R. Casella
A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her first book.
Connect with A.R. Casella Facebook: https://bit.ly/3gOsV5v Website: https://www.arcasella.com/ Amazon: https://amzn.to/3zhUaQB Instagram: https://bit.ly/35gehAA Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3wvAGWw