Hello, my fiends ;) I've been working tirelessly on a new series, untitled at the moment, but still very exciting. I feel bad I've been keeping it under wraps so I'll give you a sneak peek. Enjoy! xoxo
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By the time I arrived the restaurant was buzzing. Women in short dresses they had no intention of wearing circled around the bar, nursing their watered down cocktails. A few of them looked up from their idle conversations to scowl at me. I could have been the ugliest woman there. It wouldn't have mattered. I was in their hunting ground now. They laughed at unimportant jokes and pretended to be much more inebriated than they really were while men sized them up. Pathetic.
The bartender motioned at me, “What are you drinking?”
“Scotch neat.” His eyebrows flickered with amusement as he began to pour. I scanned the room for crocodile shoes but the dim lights lent nothing to my cause. It was going to be a long night. I took a hearty swig of the amber colored liquid allowing it to burn down my throat. The sting made me feel like I was alive.
“Gentlemen prefer blondes,” a deep, soothing voice said from behind me. I didn’t bother to turn as I took another drag of scotch.
“I’m a redhead.”
“And I’m no gentleman,” he replied. His hand met softly with the small of my back as he flexed his palm inward, breaking the physical barrier. Clever.
I turned to him, met by fiery emerald green eyes and a solid, square jaw. Each side of his face smeared with charcoal stubble that opposed the neatly kept locks resting upon his head. He was handsome. And if I needed further proof a faint scar adorned the upper left part of his lip. It was only noticeable when he opened his mouth to speak again.
"Brandy?" He gestured towards my glass. Instead, I glanced down at his shoes. Slate colored Armani boots. Hot. But this wasn't my mark.
"I'm not interested."
"Why? Do you prefer blondes?" He flashed a winning smirk before signaling to the bartender to get me another drink.
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