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& Train Wrecks Book 1 |
& Diamond Rings Book 2 |
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by Carolyn Reynolds
Zodiac Romance Book Two
College student by day, pole dancer by night, Beth is a Gemini with two vocations, two lovers—a Capricorn and a Sagittarius—and two dozen wigs, but she’s about to learn that the difference between true like and true love should make you see stars.
There are two sides to every Gemini’s story …
Beth is a human tornado. She has two vocations, two lovers, and two dozen wigs. College student by day, pole dancer by night, she’s MENSA material…except when it comes to men, in particular the 7’2” club regular she nicknamed Adonis.
Tall, dark and mysterious, and even funnier than he is good-looking, the Sagittarius is everything she’s ever wanted—or is he? Her other option is a scientific and stable Capricorn with a heart of gold.
Heart awhirl, Beth must finally decide if she believes in love at first sight. She’s about to be swept off to Las Vegas, where every suit will turn up diamonds.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): Zodiac, Astrology, Humor, Romantic Comedy
Release Date: August 10, 2015
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing
Excerpt, High Heels & Train Wrecks & More
Mood Swings & Diamond Rings Purchase links:BP Amazon ARe Smashwords Kobo B&N
Mood Swings & Diamond Rings Excerpt:
Yes, I’m the pole-dancing ginger who caught the bridal bouquet during the mêlée at Drake and Russell’s wedding. I can’t help it the other women moved like cows and that I was more agile than the bridesmaid with the hairy chest.
I am proud I’m quick and quick-witted. My name is Elizabeth and I am called Beth by some family and Gemin’ by the people involved with my other life as a pole dancer. I go by the name Gemin’ in the States, and when I travel to other more exotic locations I use the name Starr.
So let’s get this over with. I’m different than my siblings and parents. Some call me Thirteen when I make decisions they don’t approve of. I got that name early on. I was the family glue that held everyone together for many years. I was also the one to herd the stray sheep back into the family circle after disputes. What has thirteen got to do with it? Here’s a hint. In about one in thirteen sheep, one will be black. I don’t like being called that but it is what it is.
All these names might seem odd to you but that’s common with Geminis. Our reputation, and rightly so, is that we flip or turn. I guess it’s true. I’d put it this way, one day I am introverted, the next extroverted. To others, we Gemini are hot or cold. Moody, sullen and temperamental expressions flash across our faces, and yes we can cross you and look you over for spare parts. But, more often, we are inquisitive, good-hearted and sunny. We are born the sign of twins and everything is a duality.
Like the fact that I am in love with two men right now.
I had attended Drake and Russell’s wedding with my cousin Mackenzie and her runaway dog, Stevie. My boyfriend John, who only goes by the name of John is as steady as a rock, wasn’t there as his mother didn’t feel well. Naturally the women at the wedding thought I was a stripper of some sort because I was without a date so I had to be looking to snag someone’s boyfriend or whatever.
As if I need to troll at a wedding. I see hundreds of men a week at work who would love to get a date with me. I have had men try everything to date me. I’ve heard all the best and worst of lines.
When I know a man is married, I let him know I am definitely not interested. I’ve tried to be polite but when I say things like, “You’re married. Your life is all mapped out for you,” I get answers like, “Yes, but you’re the eraser.”
Right.
“Nice legs. What time do they open?”
“Can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money?”
These are the ones I can repeat. When that happens I turn as cold as ice as only a Gemini can do. Like a blast of Arctic air. They usually never bother me again.
Suffice to say, I don’t like some parts of my job, but it is my job and I make enough money to pay my way through college. It is a cliché I know. It’s true for me; I want to be an architect.
No one would think anything of this years ago when Socrates was both a gymnast and a philosopher. At least that’s how I see it.
Despite outward appearances I have always been a good girl. I worked out in gyms, boxed, and I even tried a stint race car driving at local fairs. So I was physical, yes, but not overly sexual. I am not just the outward appearance that some people judge me by.
My boyfriend John only knows I attend college; he knows nothing of Gemin’s life. He works nights at the observatory in Graham, Arizona; it’s called Optics Valley. It’s ironic that he hasn’t seen the other me then, isn’t it?
The other night, just as I finished my set with a perfect hook-and-roll routine, I saw a man. The man. He was tall. The tallest man I have ever seen. About seven feet tall. No lie. He was so handsome I about fell out of my rhinestone-encrusted thigh-high platforms. I staggered. But the most embarrassing thing had already happened. The moment I laid eyes on him my mouth fell open. Literally. I shocked myself because I am a damn good poker player but this was definitely a tell. There was no hiding it.
Once, I had seen Tyson Chandler, that basketball player who is about the same height, in Las Vegas at a pancake house. He was so fine-looking. I guess tall men are a weakness of mine, which my astrologist told me along with most everyone else.
I was warned that sometimes they are just tall; that’s all.
The man looked directly at me and acted as if he hadn’t seen my astonishment. He was probably used to it. He was a walking Adonis. I tried to tell myself that he was probably gay. But I have good instincts about men after being a dancer and knew he wasn’t.
And that was how it all began. The stolen glance. My fish-out-of-water breathing and my love affair with this man called Don. Right away—don’t ask me why—I thought there should be the initial A before his name Don.
I don’t mingle nor do I do Champagne Rooms. It’s in my contract. I am there for awesome world-renowned pole dancing. This night however was different. He asked for me in the Champagne Room, also known as the Rendezvous Room, and even though I wanted to get to know him, I refused. He told the manager that a bouncer could stay in the room if I wanted. He just wanted to get to know me, this man among men.
I knew I’d lose my job if I dated a customer. This place was one of the best gentleman’s clubs in all of Arizona, California or most of the U.S. There is one better and it is in L.A. called 4 Play. I don’t want to lose my job or change schools. Still, I need to spend some time with A. Don.
I said yes to the private room. Yes, I am a good girl, but not that good. Don’t kid yourself—you wouldn’t be either if it happened to you. We both drank more Diet Cokes than champagne. I get laughing fits when I drink champagne and he declined the bubbly as well; why, I didn’t know.
~~~~~~
Mood Swings & Diamond Rings Purchase links:
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by Carolyn Reynolds
Zodiac Romance Book One
A typical Aries woman, Hudson Christy's credo is love 'em and leave 'em--until her ex breaks her heart. Then she meets Ryan Lowell, the man she doesn't know she needs...but will fall for anyway.
Where There’s Smoke…
There’s Aries Hudson Christy
Energetic to the point of reckless, paralegal Hudson Christy is a train wreck waiting to happen, yet her wonderful red hair and mishap-prone nature fascinate the perfectly groomed and highly ambitious businessman Ryan Lowell, a quintessential Leo.
Hudson’s ex will try his best to scuttle this burgeoning romance, but some loves are written in the stars—and get a little help from questionable relatives, a sly friend and a devoted dog.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): Zodiac, Astrology, Humor, Romantic Comedy
Release Date: May 13, 2015
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing
High Heels & Train Wrecks Purchase links:BP Amazon ARe Smashwords Kobo B&N
High Heels & Train Wrecks Excerpt:
In a moment of poor judgment, I stopped at the railing above the large office foyer on the second floor. I was looking for my car keys so I could rush to the bank to make an urgent deposit. I was about to be overdrawn again.
With my recent and frequent lapse of foresight, I laid my house keys, my two sets of office keys and my entire overstuffed handbag on the circular flamingo-pink marble table at the corner of the railing. Somehow, some hapless UPS man accidentally bumped me coming off the nearby elevator, and that is when I saw my Fendi fly. Over the edge.
Keys and lipsticks tumbled through the air and rolled around the floor beneath me, nearly knocking the poor guy below on his head. Thank God my Fendi missed him and his crazy mane of hair because all I needed was another legal problem.
He looked up at me as if he had been expecting it. Why, I have no idea. He smiled a big Cheshire cat grin and gawd I love it when men smile like that. Anyway, then he started to pick up the barrage of take-out receipts and an assortment of yellow Post-its that lay on the floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I yelled from upstairs leaning over the railing. “You see I was trying to find my office keys and got bumped by the UPS man, who, I might add, should be more careful, in my opinion. I’ll be right down. You don’t have to pick any of it up.”
I was mortified. What all was in that purse anyway? I took the stairs down as fast as I could in my new spiky heels that were entirely too tall for my aching back. But, of course, I couldn’t foresee the events of the day, as I dressed for success, not disaster, that morning.
He was waiting with the offending handbag looking like a movie star with his bright blue eyes and blazing white smile. Although he was quite kind to me as he gathered up my things, I had a certain unreasonable dislike for him. I sensed he had never had to beat the bouncing checks with an emergency deposit. No, not him. He had that privileged air. A life of ease and certain promise and few mishaps had been his, I was sure.
We stood there assessing each other.
I thanked him with exceptional politeness as I reclaimed my things and removed a Post-it from his highly starched, ever-so-blue shirt that matched his embarrassingly observant eyes.
I found myself resenting his eyes. I had hoped they would be pensive, sleepy, and doe-eyed like the men who are my type. But, no. No romantic possibilities here.
Not that I think of potential romances.
Well, not often. I am far too busy for that now that my day job has consumed my entire life. In fact, it is my job that has created this harried version of myself. Before the day job, I was pretty cool. I was poised, in charge, and well, not bumbling for sure.
He put the last stray item in my bag, a roll of glucose tablets, just in case my sugar drops after I have skipped lunch in an effort to shed the ten pounds I gained from stress. Well, actually it’s twenty, but only I know that.
“Well, I have to run,” I said to Mr. Blue Eyes. Or were they really green and it was the shirt that made them look Pacific blue?
And that was when it happened.
He winked at me.
I blinked.
He winked again with an utterly gorgeous smile.
“Do you think your being in a hurry makes you accident prone?”
I told him I had no idea. Perhaps he was right, I said, but I really had no choice.
“We all have choices.”
I felt defensive. No, I didn’t. Oh hell, I just felt flustered. He was flirting with me. I was sure of it. He was tall and made me feel…little. In a good way. I felt girlish and just wanted him to hold my hand.
I needed to get a grip. He was disarming. The bastard.
I put my guard up. I stood straighter on my four-inch heels, making me all of five-nine. I lifted my head a notch higher. I straightened my shoulders.
He reached over and tugged a bit at the left side of my blazer. He smelled like Giorgio or some other designer. I was a sucker for Full Throttle, but he did smell, well, hot. No. Not hot, because I was so not interested.
“It was a little lopsided, your blazer. Hope you don’t mind.”
I thanked him again, this time with an appearance, I hoped, of some dignity I managed to summon.
And, as I turned to walk away he said, “Call me if you need a locksmith, or police escort or whatever.” He handed me his card. “You’re a train wreck, and I find that amazingly attractive in redheads.”
I did not look back. He thought I was amazingly attractive. Really. Really? I felt quite proud of myself.
I was thinking about his calling me a train wreck, and I didn’t like that part so much. Of course I wasn’t, and he was certainly presumptuous to say that just because of my handbag accident—caused by someone else.
As I turned to the right, I saw someone back into the side of my new car. Then I heard the crunch.
For some odd reason I turned back to enter the lobby expecting somehow, in some crazy way, that he would be there for me.
He wasn’t.
~~~~~~
High Heels & Train Wrecks Purchase links:
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Find Carolyn Reynolds at:
PlanetRedHead.net
Twitter: @CReynoldsBooks
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Be on the lookout for Carolyn Reynolds's future release(s): Glass Slippers and Cinderella Trippers coming October 2015 and Twelve Signs of Christmas coming Holidays 2015
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