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Bachelorette Blues
Robyn Amos
HOW TO BEAT THE BACHELORETTE BLUES1. Find Mr. Right• Carefully make list of qualities needed• Narrow down choices to three polished, professional men• Ignore Max Winston's charms!2. Date Mr. Right• Attend social functions• Dress properly• Avoid Max Winston's gorgeous eyes!3. Plan for a wedding• Have long engagement• Organize the perfect ceremony• Stop fantasizing about walking down the aisle with Max Winston!Hmm. Maybe Shayna Gunther should rethink her list….
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u8d817cd5-447b-5161-b448-89af353ed02f)
Excerpt (#u40c2148d-4c76-50ed-a5b6-39183cc4e969)
Dear Reader (#u38f7fba5-244a-5717-b439-95dbee9506e5)
Title Page (#u5c427fd6-0000-5731-b694-f1180a5c9c58)
Dedication (#ud53b481c-616c-50ef-9b2c-3db876986be2)
Letter from Robyn Amos (#u2dd1c2ee-e141-5f57-8582-e9167b0f3156)
Chapter One (#uda257187-a5a3-57cc-bfe9-1c2fa98d0d01)
Chapter Two (#u9dac9da2-1092-5819-b0d1-315d6e83a13c)
Chapter Three (#ue3d573f9-87ca-5f01-8823-76d852eaaf60)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Shayna gunther—mr. Efficiency herself—puts together a list of the most cligible bachelors around
1. The Computer Guy. Smart, hardworking, a successful businessman. Unfortunately, he’s already in love—with himself. Too bad he isn’t sweet and caring like, say, Max Winston. (But then, Max isn’t even on her list.…)
2. Mr. Six-Hundred-Dollar Suit. Very well dressed. Which explains why he got downright nasty when she accidentally dumped an entire strawberry cheesecake on him. Now, Max would just have laughed and helped her clean up the mess. (But maybe Shayna should try to remember that Max is absolutely not on her list.…)
3. The Nightclub Owner. Sophisticated, charming, absolutely nothing wrong with him. (Except that he’s simply not Max “Not-Even-on-the-Gosh-Darn-List” Winston…)
Dear Reader (#ulink_87c41215-1be6-519d-bb50-b93b97536b0d),
Chain letters! Don’t you just hate them? Thanks to the joys of E-mail (and most of the time it really is a joy), I seem to receive them on pretty much a daily basis. The worst thing is, I keep getting the same ones over and over. No, I take that back. The worst thing really is that none of them ever come true. I’m still making ends meet but not getting rich, and I certainly haven’t met Mr. Right Luckily for Shayna Gunther, heroine of Robyn Amos’s debut Yours Truly novel, Bachelorette Blues, her chain-letter experience has a happier outcome. She does meet her perfect match—though it takes her a little while to figure that out (Just for the record: I would have recognized him a lot sooner!)
After you finish enjoying Shayna and Max’s story, move on to the final installment of Karen Templeton’s fabulous WEDDINGS, INC. trilogy. Wedding? Impossible! turns out not to be so impossible after all, of course. Admittedly, Zoe’s a bit wary of her supposedly perfect blind date, Mike, but who wouldn’t be? (If you say you wouldn’t, you’ve never been on a blind-date disaster!) But pretty soon she’s hooked, agreeing with everyone else’s opinion of Mike—that he’s wonderful—and planning that extremely possible wedding after all
Enjoy! And remember to come back next month for two more books all about the fun of meeting—and marrying!—Mr. Right.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Bachelorette Blues
Robyn Amos
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to my local RWA chapter,
Washington Romance Writers. Their members have
proven that, with solidarity, endurance and support,
even the worst of luck is only temporary.
Letter from Robyn Amos (#ulink_ead8f5f5-8285-5ab3-beb7-f38e145f5ad8)
Is it luck or coincidence? You tell me. One week after I came up with the chain letter idea for Bachelorette Blues, I received a chain letter of my own in the mail. Thanks to the immediacy of E-mail, I received countless chain letters while writing this novel. Some promised true love, like the one Shayna receives from her niece; others promised good fortune or wealth. All I know is, I haven’t participated in any of them, and my luck has never been better. Of course, I’m still working on the true love and the wealth.
I’m not superstitious…much. I’m a firm believer that if you don’t finish reading the chain letter, it doesn’t count. Fortunately, I’ve never been as clumsy as Shayna, but I wouldn’t mind having her organizational skills to help me balance my full-time job, writing career, friends and family. Maybe I like the concept of Shayna being a life management consultant so much because I need one so desperately.
Besides collecting chain letters, while writing this book I went duckpin bowling for the first time, picked up a few new recipes—now I just have to learn to like cooking—and paid homage to my love of chocolate. If you like Shayna and Max’s story, or just want to send me a chain letter—I’m just kidding; no chain letters, please!—contact me at: P.O. Box 7904, Gaithersburg, MD 20898-7904.
Robyn Amos
1 (#ulink_e0ee2eaf-501d-5925-bcb0-f80bcf4eb392)
Curiosity nagged at Shayna Gunther like the box of chocolate cookies stashed in her desk drawer. She plucked the envelope out of her In bin and studied it. Rain had smeared the blue ink, blurring the return address.
With a jewel-handled letter opener, Shayna sliced through the envelope and pulled out a wrinkled, wideruled sheet of notebook paper.
Just her luck. Her nine-year-old niece, Tiffany, had sent her a chain letter. Shaking her head in amusement, Shayna read the childish scrawl.
This is not a joke or a prank. It is very serious. If you follow these instructions carefully, you will find true love. Within seventy-two hours, you must copy this letter six times and mail it to six friends who are looking for love. At midnight, on the third day, drink a glass of water and say the name of a boy or girl you like. He or she will be yours forever. If you break the chain, beware. Bad luck will be yours. Forever.
With a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, Shayna picked up the phone on her desk. She normally called her sister Nicole on Sunday afternoons, but this just couldn’t wait.
“Hi Nic, it’s Shayna.”
“Shayna? What’s wrong? Are you switching from Sundays to Wednesdays?”
“Come on, I’m not that bad.” Shayna was used to being teased about her predictability, but she didn’t let it get to her. The talent for organization was her unique gift.
“Girl, I knew you were ‘that’ bad when you started color coding your underwear with the days of the week. Yellow on Sundays, pink on Mondays…”
“Nicole, stop. I was only eight. That was just a phase.” She still wore blue on Tuesdays, but Nicole didn’t have to know that.
“Yeah, a phase. That’s why you make your living creating schedules and routines for other people to follow.”
“I make good money as a life management consultant, and you know it.”
Knowing what Shayna was like in high school, Nicole, of all people, should understand. Shayna had never had her sister’s easy popularity and self-confidence. For years, if anyone was tripping over bleachers at football games or spilling drinks at parties, her name was Shayna. Carefully planning for every possibility had helped her pull herself together.
“Anyway, I called about Tiffany,” Shayna said, pushing old memories aside.
“Uh-oh.” Nicole’s voice took on a resigned what-has-my-child-done-now? tone.
“No, no. It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you about the letter I got from her today.”
“Tif sent you a letter?”
“A chain letter.”
Nicole’s hearty laugh cut through the miles that separated Delaware from Maryland. “That’s my girl. Do you want to talk to the little troublemaker?”
“Please.”
“Hi, Aunt Shay,” Tiffany said with a burst of excitement. Shayna could picture the girl’s bright smile curving her caramel-colored cheeks.
“Hi, Tif. I got your chain letter today.”
“Well.” Tiffany sighed dramatically the way only nine-year-olds could. “You’d better get started right away, Aunt Shay. Mom says you’re long overdue for a boyfriend.”
Shayna made a mental note to strangle her sister.
“That’s why I called, Tiffany. Chain letters and other superstitions don’t really work. If you want something in life, you have to get it for yourself by working hard.”
“Oh, but it does work. Last week, Ricky Jacobs invited me to a pizza party. Then I started liking Jimmy Hunter…”
As Tiffany continued, Shayna couldn’t help noticing that a fourth grader had a more interesting social life than she did.
“Anyway, Amy Morton broke the chain, and boy, did she have it rough.”
“What do you mean?” Shayna asked despite herself.
“First she got a D on her math test, then her parents stopped letting her watch ‘Melrose Place’ and then—”
“Tiffany, those were just coincidences.”
“No. Her bad luck didn’t go away until—What? Okay, Mom. Mom says it’s time for dinner. I gotta go.”
“I’ll talk to you on Sunday, Tif. We can make plans for our slumber party.”
“Aunt Shay? Please don’t break the chain. I want you to find true love, not bad luck.”
Shayna smiled. “Thanks, Tif.” She hung up the phone, shaking her head. Apparently everyone knew she needed a man. She was nearing thirty, and according to her life plan it was time. But thank goodness she knew the proper way to go about finding the right man. Not chain letters. Not crystal balls or tarot cards. Just careful planning, plain and simple.
Shayna looked at her calendar. Each important date was color coded by event. Blue for business appointments, green for social events like movies or dinner, and purple for special occasions. She reserved red for dates with that special someone.
Unfortunately her calendar hadn’t seen red ink for months. There hadn’t been room in her schedule for dating. But that was about to change.
Shayna touched the purple lettering written in the block for next Saturday. “MBO Cocktail Mixer.” The local chapter of the Minority Business Owners, a support group for the self-employed, had been her salvation for the past three years. Now that her consulting business was taking off, the organization was going to help her find the perfect man.
Through careful research, Shayna had compiled a list of the MBO’s most eligible bachelors. They were all successful enough to be her equal, intelligent enough to bring good genes to the union and handsome enough to give her goose bumps. Any of the three men would be a good catch, but Phillip Browning, Jr., the owner of SoftTech Computer Consulting, headed the list. He dressed impeccably, spoke articulately and still had all his hair.
Shayna casually tossed the chain letter into her recycling bin as she reviewed her well-laid plans for Saturday evening. Yes, Phillip Browning, Jr. had definite potential, and in just four short days, she would know if he was “the one.”
Max Winston turned onto Wisconsin Avenue and headed for the Chevy Chase Holiday Inn. His windshield wipers were keeping perfect time with the old Motown song playing on the radio. The digital clock on his dashboard read 7:45. He was fifteen minutes late. Normally he didn’t worry about things like that, but he knew Shayna would be one of the first to arrive. In the six months he’d been a member of MBO, he’d learned that he could set his watch by that woman. She was so organized, he’d bet she color coded her underwear by the days of the week. Black on Mondays, red on Tuesdays…
Uh-oh! Max stepped on the gas pedal, trying to make the yellow light up ahead. It wasn’t wise to think about Shayna Gunther’s underwear while driving.
As he sped through the intersection, he heard a wild shriek. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw a bag lady wrapped in a garbage bag. She was bent over, trying to hold a sheet of newspaper over her head while struggling with an umbrella the wind had turned inside out. Max grimaced. Apparently he’d sloshed her good when he’d driven through a mud puddle.
“Sorry!” he called, tooting his horn, knowing she couldn’t hear him.
Twenty minutes later, Max swirled his cocktail and scanned the lounge again. Still no sign of Shayna. She was the only reason he’d bothered showing up in the first place. Now she was nowhere to be found, and he was stuck listening to the most boring guy in the room—Phillip Browning, Jr.
What was with this guy? Didn’t he know that no one cared how many copies of some duller-than-dirt accounting program he’d sold this week? Of course he didn’t know. He was too busy impressing himself.
Max surveyed the room again, this time searching for a way to exit the conversation. Hot damn. Both his prayers were answered at once. There was Shayna. Finally.
Max blinked. That was Shayna, wasn’t it? The woman slinking into the ladies’ room with her handbag covering her face had Shayna’s smooth honey brown complexion and slim sexy figure, but she looked like a drowned rat. A beautiful rat, but drowned nonetheless.
It had been raining when he arrived, but not hard enough to soak her like that. The front of her hair was plastered to her forehead and the back had frizzed into a puffy cloud. She hobbled on one foot because she’d apparently lost the heel of her other shoe.
