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Thursday, January 8, 2015

Tour, Excerpt & #Giveaway! @chachack2 @TastyBookToursCan't Always Get What You Want by Chelsey Krause

Can’t Always Get What You Want
By: Chelsey Krause
Releasing January 13th, 2015

Fans of Ruthie Knox, Rachel Gibson, and Molly O’Keefe will love this deeply romantic and uplifting debut novel about losing everything you thought you wanted—and getting exactly what you need.

Sophie Richards has been looking forward to a much-needed girls’ night out: a Rolling Stones tribute-band concert, a few drinks, a distraction from her grueling nursing shifts in acute care. But when her best friend bails, Sophie gets stuck with a blind date.

Although Brett Nicholson may be the hottest carpenter alive, and Sophie may technically be single, she isn’t exactly on the market. Six years ago she found The One. He was everything Sophie dreamed a man could be—and then she lost him. In an instant, her whole life changed, and she forgot all about happily ever after.

But as she gets to know Brett, Sophie starts to wonder about the future for the first time. With a broken heart still clouding her mind, jumping into a new relationship feels impossible. When she’s in his arms, walking away feels even harder. Now Sophie faces an impossible choice: living in the past or choosing love in the here and now.

It’s about a twenty-minute drive from Samira’s house to mine. We both live on the south side of Edmonton. She’s in a newer area, while I live in an older, (ahem) more mature area.
I love my little house, an old bungalow that I bought last year.
It used to have olive green shag carpet.
It was even in the main-floor bathroom.
Between that, the faux wood paneling, and the purple bathtub and toilet, I felt like I was walking through a reject set of That ’70s Show. But the horrible interior worked to my advantage: nobody else wanted it.
Aside from the strange color choices and even stranger bathroom flooring, the house was well built and could be modernized quite easily. I put an offer in that day, and it was mine.
Opening the door to my house, I can’t help but admire what a transformation it has gone through. The past year has been a complete whirlwind. Between working all the time (sometimes double shifts to cover staff shortages) and renovating my house (often myself to save on costs), I haven’t had much time to do anything other than get through the day.
I stand alone in my house, lean against the front door, and survey the work that I should feel so proud of.
But I just feel empty.
And tired.
And lonely.
Like it’s all been a big waste of time.
It’s a gorgeous afternoon in June. Before I leave, I do a quick check of my outfit in the mirror by the front door. My long blond hair is up in a ballerina-type bun. I’m wearing a new, knee-length, mint green dress that is fitted at the waist and gently flares out.
I grab my purse and check that I’ve got everything.
Tickets? Check.
Wallet? Check.
Keys? Check.
Sanity? Hmm . . .
Oh God, what am I thinking? I hate meeting new people. I should just go to the concert by myself.
“Stop it,” I say aloud. “It’ll be fine.”
I find a spot to park by the zoo and follow the dusty river valley trail to Hawrelak Park. People are streaming toward the amphitheater, hoping to get good seats. Scents of the street vendors’ salty popcorn and sizzling hot dogs fill the air.
I walk toward the boathouse, where Brett and I arranged to meet. I’m ten minutes early. I crane my neck to see if he’s already there, but there are about thirty other people standing around the vicinity.
As I approach the boathouse, my cellphone buzzes.
It’s a text from Samira.
Have u met Brett yet?
I hit a quick reply:
Nope. Almost at our meeting place. How’s your night going? Anything sparkly on your finger yet?
Not yet. But there might be soon. We’re on our way to the Hotel MacDonald. We’re having supper, and he’s rented a room for the night.
Wow. The Fairmont Hotel MacDonald is one of the fanciest places in Edmonton. Famous people like Celine Dion and the Rolling Stones stay there.
You lucky duck. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t pop the question. At the very least, you’ll get a nice meal and a night of rambunctious sex. Keep in touch! And good luck!
You too, sweets : )
A few seconds later . . .
Rambunctious sex?
Giggling to myself, I return my phone to my bag and recall my previous (and only) conversation with Brett. Brett described himself as tall and blond and said he’d be wearing a white shirt and ball cap. Samira told me that he’s twenty-eight years old, and really cute.
Scanning the crowd around the boathouse, I notice that there are about ten other guys with light brown or dark blond hair wearing white shirts. And ball caps.
And most of the young women are wearing some shade of mint green.

I mentally kick myself for wearing something trendy. Maybe I should’ve come wearing a purple, faux fur coat? Or a gorilla costume? He’d have noticed that in a crowd.
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I was born and raised in Canada, and live with my husband and two children. I’ve been a nurse since 2009. An essay I wrote on intercultural nursing has been published in a nursing anthology.
I love thrift shops, repurposing old junk and learning new belly dance moves. I can’t decide if my favorite movie is either “Bridget Jones’ Diary” or “Fight Club.”
I’ve always wanted to be a writer and in the spring of 2013, I finally sat down and wrote my first book. Now that that’s done, I’m working on my second.
I believe that the best way to become a great writer is to read.

A lot.
And then read some more.
I absolutely love books and would live at the library if they’d let me.
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