Excerpt!
Barrie
He’s practically standing right on top of me, and he’s showing all the symptoms. First, he can’t hide the fact that he’s impatient. Like the way he’s stabbing me with his facial features. Definitely a clue.
Then the grump speaks.
Then the grump speaks.
“What are you doing?” he asks, in what seems to be disbelief; his tone, dismissive. Annoyed. The kind of tone filled with condescension that sends my heart rate sky high.
All signs we might be dealing with the most extreme kind of grump.
It’s a simple question. It should be an easy answer. Now, you might be tempted to be a grump back, but instead, why not have a little fun?
Give the grump an extra dose of sunshine. Of course, ignore the eye daggers and the huffs and the pursed lips.
I wait another second—just for funsies—then give him the brightest, cheeriest smile I can muster. “Oh, just in for a fantabulous weekend with the girls. We’re going to have so much fun. So much. You know”—I flash him another smile like he understands—“all the typical girl stuff. Painting nails. Too much wine and dancing in the hotel bar. Laughing.”
Another fact about grumps.
They don’t like to laugh. Just the idea of laughing or having fun makes them want to run screaming for a man cave.
I go on and on about our fun weekend. Adding more sunshine to his day.
Finally, he interrupts. Very grumpy of him if you ask me.
“I mean, what are you doing right now?” he demands.
I laugh—a girlish-like giggle, which drives a grump nuts. “Like right this second?” I hold up my phone and wave it. “Just doing a little texting.” I see his gaze go to the elevator behind me.
Ah yes, here’s the reason.
They eventually give it away. He’s annoyed he’s not first in line and the elevator is taking a long time. But we’re in the city and there are a lot of floors.
“Yes, I’m waiting to get to my room, too. Sometimes, these hotel elevators take forever. You just gotta role with it, hon.” Somehow, a Southern accent—I’m a New Englander all the way—has slipped in and I’m not sure why.
Hey, I never said it was easy dealing with a grump. It takes nerves of steel. It takes commitment to follow through on the sunshine treatment and not devolve into snarky remarks.
Barrie:
I am determined to make my best friend’s wedding weekend perfect. That includes editing the best man’s speech and making sure he doesn’t drink too much.
Except, he’s the worst kind of grump with a capital G.
Not only that but when this perfect wedding unravels, I find myself the object of his wrath.
He blames me.
So I run.
And I’m wearing the wedding dress. (Don’t ask.)
As I hide out in a small town, following my dreams, I stumble upon a decades-old murder mystery.
Turns out texting the grump might be my only lifeline. And I’m definitely not flirt-texting. Nope. Not me.
Because falling for a grump can only lead to a broken heart.
Right?
Miles:
For the record, I am not a grump.
It’s not me. It’s them.
It’s women.
I’m looking forward to the wedding this weekend. My best friend is getting married.
And the maid of honor texts me.
Not just once.
Oh, no, because that would be much too sensible. Nope. Try a dozen. It felt like a hundred.
I can tell by a glance at the texts that she’s one of those micro-managing, in your business, thinks-she-knows-everything type of woman.
Forget it.
I don’t want her number. I don’t want coffee. I don’t want a date.
I don’t want a single conversation.
Okay, fine. I’m a grump.
But can you blame me?
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I write about spies, murder, and mystery. I love a lot of things about writing and reading stories that have mystery and romance. I love the puzzle of a whodunnit and witty banter between characters who love to hate each other. Especially, when they don’t know they are falling in love.
There are about a gazillion books in the wilds of Amazon and maybe half of them are mysteries. If you want to make sure you know when I have a new release in a current series or the start of a new series then visit www.laurapauling.com and sign up for my newsletter.
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