The
Wedding Gift
Save The Date #3.5
Save The Date #3.5
By: Cara Connelly
Releasing May 5, 2015
Avon
Blurb
What's the New-Jan-Plan? Discover the
answer in Cara Connelly's newest Save The Date Novella, and see how mousey Jan
Marone gives herself the gift of living, laughing, and finally loving … all
under the hot Key West sun.
She'd
come to Key West for a wedding, only to discover the hotel had messed up her
reservation. So although Jan Marone has to share a tiny room with sexy Mick
McKenna, it shouldn't really be a problem. Mick's her best friend, and he
doesn't think of her "that way" … or does he?
Mick
McKenna loves hard and plays hard. His thick black hair, chiseled jaw, and
hard, muscled body make him irresistible. But when once-innocent Jan walks into
his hotel room, Mick can't believe his eyes. Now she's wearing a sexy bikini
and telling him it's time for her to "get lucky," making him
protective and tantalized at the same time.
Worried
she might be in over her head, he decides never to leave her side … and
suddenly their hotel room seems smaller—and hotter—than ever. Mick's always
been hands-off with Jan—but has the right woman been under his nose the whole
time?
Excerpt
“I’m
sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do.”
Jan Marone
wrung her hands. “But I have a reservation.”
“I know,
I’m looking at it right here.” The pretty blond at the desk tapped her screen
sympathetically. “I’ll refund your deposit immediately.”
“I don’t
want my deposit. I want a room. My cousin’s getting married tomorrow, and I’m in
the wedding.”
The girl
spread her hands. “The problem is, when one of the upstairs tubs overflowed
this morning, the ceiling collapsed on your room. It’s out of service for the
weekend, and we’re booked solid.”
“I
understand,” Jan said, struggling to remain polite. Hearing the same excuse
three times didn’t make it easier to swallow. “How about a sister hotel?”
“We’re
independently owned. Paradise Inn is the oldest hotel on the island—”
Jan held
up a hand. She knew the spiel. The large, rambling guesthouse was unique, and
very Old Key West. Which was exactly why she’d booked it.
“Can you
at least help me find a room somewhere else?”
“It’s
spring break. I’ll make some calls, but …” A discouraging shrug and a gesture
toward the coffeepot.
The girl
didn’t seem very concerned, but Jan smiled at her anyway. “Thanks, I appreciate
you trying.”
Parking
her suitcase beside the coffee table, she surveyed the lobby wistfully. The
windows and doors stood open, the wicker furniture and abundant potted plants
blurring the line between indoors and out. The warm, humid breeze drifted
through the airy space. Her parched Boston skin soaked it up like a sponge.
To a woman who’d never left New England
before, it spelled tropical vacation. And it was slipping through her fingers
like sand.
Growing
ever gloomier, she wandered out through a side door and into a lush tropical
garden—palm trees, hibiscus, a babbling waterfall.
Paradise.
And at its
heart, a glittering pool, where six gorgeous feet of lean muscle and tanned
skin drifted lazily on a float.
Ignoring
everything else, Jan studied the man. Thick black hair, chiseled jaw, half
smile curving full lips. And arms, perfect arms, draped over the sides, fingers
trailing in the water.
He seemed
utterly relaxed, the image of sensual decadence. Put him in an ad for Paradise
Inn, and women would flock. Gay men would swarm.
As if
sensing her attention, the hunk lifted his head and broke into a smile. “Hey
Jan, getcha ass in the water!”
Mick
McKenna. Her best and oldest friend.
He rolled
off the float and jacked himself out of the pool. Water streamed from gray
board shorts as he crossed the flagstones.
Stopping
in front of her, he shook his hair like a Labrador.
“Geez!
Don’t you ever get tired of that?” She brushed droplets off her white cotton blouse.
He laughed
his big happy laugh. “Never have, never will. Get your suit on. The water’s a
perfect eighty-six degrees.”
“I can’t.
They don’t have a room for me.”
The grin
fell off his face. “What the hell?”
“Water damage.” She shrugged like it
wasn’t tragic. Like she hadn’t been anticipating this weekend for months.
“They must
have another room.” Mick started to go around her, no doubt to raise hell at
the desk, McKenna-style.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I
tried everything. They’re digging up a room for me somewhere else on the
island.”
He
tunneled long fingers through his hair. “Take my room,” he said. “You found
this place, and it’s great. You should stay here.”
“Forget
it. I’m not taking your room.” She wasn’t that pathetic. Mick would give her
the shirt off his back, which he’d literally done more than once since they
were kids, but she wasn’t taking his room out from under him.
He knew
better than to argue with her. Disappointment slumped his shoulders, but he
buttoned his lips, looking down at her from troubled eyes bluer than the pool
gleaming behind him.
She
mustered a smile. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.”
She
followed him inside, down a short hallway, and into a room that was eighty
percent bed.
“Yikes. The reviews said the rooms were
tiny, but sheesh.”
Mick
shrugged. “Who comes to Key West to sit in their room?”
That was
Mick. Mr. Brightside.
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