A very unique series is here from author Jillian Dodd, following the dating adventures of Kitty Valentine—a romance writer in need of some sexy fodder for her books—and I have a sneak peek for you from the second book in the series, out this week. Who will Kitty date and write about next?
Excerpt
“You weren’t there!” I practically shout.
A few people sitting at the bar turn to look at us.
Sorry, I mouth with a shrug.
“You could’ve expressed sympathy and laughed it off. I know; I know. It’s easy for me to say. I wasn’t there. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Well, you weren’t.”
“Now, you know how to handle it should it ever happen again.”
I snort. “It’d better not happen again.”
“It’ll probably happen again.”
“I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better.”
“Have you ever known me to shove smiley-faced platitudes down your throat for the sake of making you feel better?” she sighs.
“Good point.”
And thankfully the nachos arrive when they do because I feel the sudden need to shove something into my mouth. Bonus: I can’t blurt out anything idiotic when I’m busy crunching on tortilla chips and guacamole.
“Erin is the past. You are the future, if you choose to be. You’re the girl he wants to spend time with now.” She leans in, meeting my gaze while I shovel chips into my waiting mouth. “You’re the girl he still wanted a hot make-out sesh with in your grandmother’s pantry, even when he found out you weren’t being honest with him.”
I can’t offer any stunning, cutting reply to that with a mouthful of food. There’s nothing for me to do but mull it over while I chew. She’s made a good point once again. He didn’t have to be so accepting and willing to go along with things when he found out I might be writing about him. He had every right to tell me to stick it where the sun didn’t shine.
But he didn’t. And he wanted to see me again after that. Immediately after that in fact.
Maybe things aren’t as bleak as I’m making them out to be. They rarely are. Whenever Hayley accuses me of being overdramatic, I fight like heck to convince her otherwise.
The truth? I know I can be. That’s why I’m so good at writing romantic drama.
Or so I tell myself.
“So, you don’t think I’m a step down from a hot, brilliant surgeon?” I ask, chewing my lip.
Hayley’s eyes widen. “Jesus, is that what you think? Is that what has you worried?”
“Well … yeah. I thought that was pretty clear by the way I kept comparing myself to her.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She puts her hands on the table, palms down, eyes burning holes in me. “Listen, because I’m not going to repeat myself. I don’t care how hot she is. I don’t care if she operates on brains or hearts or whatever it is. I don’t care if she has a new procedure named after her. I don’t care if she’s a genius. She’s not you.”
“Like I’m so special?” I smirk.
She doesn’t blink. “You are Kitty fucking Valentine. Yes, you’re special. Now, eat the damn nachos and lighten up.”
Who am I to argue when she makes such a strong point?
“I love you,” I manage around a mouthful of refried beans and cheese.
She smiles. “I know. And you have cheese on your chin.”
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