After a lot of dithering and, as this is my first romcom, there has been a lot to dither about, I realized Valentine's Day—the perfect opportunity to release my book—was fast approaching. From vague, ah, um, what do I want to do next out-of-focus thinking, everything clicked into place and I had my deadline. My editor, the proficient and extremely supportive, Lois Dacus, had already sent the final edits, all that remained was formatting, the cover and a final title (this blog is not called 'writing my novel - no working title' for nothing) to be decided.
That was two weeks ago, and I'm thrilled to let you know The Serendipity Game, an entertaining, drama-packed love story will be released on the 14th February - Valentine's Day!
When hard-working office temp and part-time barmaid Casey Jonson attends a party hosted by billionaire Jake Leinster, little does she realize the irresistibly attractive stranger she hooks up with is the man himself.
That was two weeks ago, and I'm thrilled to let you know The Serendipity Game, an entertaining, drama-packed love story will be released on the 14th February - Valentine's Day!
When hard-working office temp and part-time barmaid Casey Jonson attends a party hosted by billionaire Jake Leinster, little does she realize the irresistibly attractive stranger she hooks up with is the man himself.
But Casey has no idea that Jake’s soon-to-be-ex-wife, Hollywood actress Elena Elska, is using her as an unwitting pawn in a scheme to extract more than the pre-nuptial agreement from her billionaire husband and, unforeseen by Elena, Jake and Casey fall for each other.
Elena uses the paparazzi to further her agenda, and Casey and Jake’s all-too-brief moment of wild abandon lights up social media. Over the following days, hounded by journalists, Casey becomes increasingly desperate as she loses her job and is forced to go on the run.
After Jake locates Casey, they spend time together, discovering if their attraction for each other is more than a moment of passion. Meanwhile, Elena changes her mind about the divorce and puts into play a plan to permanently eliminate her competition.
And here's a peek at the first chapter:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ShhLvO Kobo: https://bit.ly/2OzHLl1
Apple ibooks: https://apple.co/2SnN2xo
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/2SmEaIc
Have a great week, be kind to others and to yourself and keep reading.
Best wishes,
Teagan.
And here's a peek at the first chapter:
The Serendipity Game ©
By
Teagan Kearney
Chapter 1: A Traffic Stopper
The clamor of central
London’s traffic receded as Casey followed Ian into the cobbled mews off Bond
Street; even the stifling midday heat seemed less oppressive. Terraced houses with
pots of colorful blooms outside painted doors on one side faced the exclusive
boutiques lining the other.
Casey
lifted the damp hair off her neck. Two hours ago, Ian had called and asked if
she would like to accompany him to an annual party hosted by his billionaire
boss, Jake Leinster. Apologizing for the last-minute invitation—the party was
that evening—he insisted on buying her a designer dress of her choice to make
up for the short notice—or in case she didn’t have an outfit to wear. The
blatant bribe worked. Galvanized in pretty much the same manner as if she’d
stuck her finger in an electric socket, she zipped in and out of the shower, ran
a brush through her tangled knots and grabbed a hairband that snapped as she
sat in Ian’s car, finger-combing the heavy mass into its usual high ponytail.
Now her neck and back were clammy and limp strands clung to her flushed face.
“Ah,
there it is.” Ian pointed to a shop where the letters I-ME, written in gold on
a gray background, glittered in the sunshine. The window display featured one
item; an almost transparent maxi dress over a nude-colored skimpy bra and thong
worn by a headless model in front of a black backdrop.
There’ll
be sparks if he thinks I’m wearing that, Casey thought in amusement as Ian
opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. She sighed with relief as the
air-conditioning raised goosebumps on her arms and she breathed in the soothing
sandalwood incense.
The
shop had white-painted hardwood floors and walls featuring blown-up black and
white photos of models in dramatic poses on the edges of cliffs and in front of
icebergs. Three chrome plinths displayed items—a single shoe, a handbag, a jewel-encrusted
bracelet—and a few rails, each with three or four outfits, stood against the
walls.
A
little different from Primark and no price tags. She knew what that meant and
wondered how much Ian was willing to shell out to impress his boss.
A
rake-thin shop assistant, ironed hair, heavy kohl and mascara, purple lipstick,
yellow python-print leggings and a black bandeau, sauntered toward them. “Mr.
Westley?” She addressed Ian, her vowels plum, and ignored Casey.
“Yes,
and this is the young lady who needs a special outfit.” Ian smiled the charming
practiced smile, Casey was learning, he used when he wanted something.
“I’m Carlotta. Call me Lottie.” The young woman responded to Ian’s charisma by batting her eyelids,
her eyes flicking from Ian’s navy striped blazer to Casey’s tatty jeans and
well-worn trainers. With a twitch of an eyebrow, she implied that, whereas Ian
was a ten, Casey was a four at best, and her lips twisted in a sneer as she
took in the words I’m not yo’ mama emblazoned across the faded red T-shirt.
Casey
clamped her lips together and thought of walking out, but the opportunity to
see how the one percent lived didn’t often arise—in fact, had never materialized
and probably never would again, so she stayed.
Two
weeks ago, Ian had walked into The Drunken Bull, where she worked weekends as a
barmaid because her day job, receptionist temping for an office-staffing
agency, scarcely paid the bills. At six foot one, with dark blond hair, an Alex
Pettyfer lookalike, he was hard to ignore. His gaze skimmed the clientele before
spotting Casey and promptly heading for the bar. By closing time, she’d agreed
to let him take a selfie and go out on a date with him.
As
Ian left, Greg, her boss, warned, “I’d watch that one if I was you,” but she’d
shrugged off his advice and gone out with him anyway. They saw a foreign film
with subtitles, not her usual scene but she enjoyed it, and they dined at an
upmarket restaurant well beyond her financially challenged budget. Unlike every
other date she’d had, Ian was a perfect gentleman, kissing her on the cheek
when he dropped her home, assuring her he’d call.
Yet
despite his display of self-discipline, Ian’s glib patter sparked an alert; he
was a player, the kind Casey would normally take a detour around the block to avoid,
but her social life had gone AWOL, and she succumbed to his charm. The month
before, she’d ended her previous relationship—a record at eight months—because,
as she revealed to Marnie, her best friend and the mother of her three godchildren,
Billy was getting clingy.
“More
like he wants you to commit,” Marnie retorted.
Billy
made her laugh; and when he’d taken her to the rock-climbing wall in the local
leisure center as his guest, she relished the challenge. Missing out on the rock
wall was a major regret, but she wasn’t searching for a life partner. Left on
the steps of the local church as a newborn and growing up in the state care
system, Casey didn’t believe in happy ever after.
“This
way,” Ms. Skinny and Smug ordered, leading them into a private room with a three-way
mirror, two rails packed with designer clothes, a changing cubicle, a table and
a couple of chairs with enough space to walk up and down. “Melanie, your
fitter, will be with you shortly.” Carlotta-call-me-Lottie turned to Ian.
“Coffee, tea, champagne?”
“Casey?”
Champagne?
And end up agreeing to wear the outfit on display in the window? “Coffee. Large
soy
latte, extra shot, thanks.”
“Make
that two,” Ian added.
“Why
don’t you look through the selection we’ve put out and see if there’s anything
you want her to try on?” Carlotta gushed.
Casey
glared at the python-clad buttocks twitching from side to side as she sashayed
out. Regretfully, her killer laser-eyed superpower remained inactive.
Ian
rifled through the rack and held up a black version of the dress on display in
the window. “What about this one? With your strawberry blonde hair and those
baby blues, you’d look stunning in this.”
Baby
blues? Did he think he was in an American gangster movie? Casey raised an eyebrow.
“Isn’t this a respectable party? No, thanks.” That dress would invite a walk of
shame if ever a dress did. She pulled out a pink chiffon number that caught her
eye.
Ian’s
lips thinned. “You’re not in a pageant competition, either.”
Melanie,
older and with an air of competence, arrived with their coffees. Her experienced
eye studied Casey’s figure, and without hesitation she pulled out half a dozen dresses
for her to try.
An
hour later, frazzled by Ian’s dismissal of her preferences and her rejection of
his, Casey wobbled out of the cubicle in a pair of chili-red Jimmy Choo strappy
sandals with six-inch heels, wearing an off-one-shoulder, chili-red silk dress
that Melanie described as bandage-style because of the figure-hugging,
wraparound layers of satiny material.
Ian’s
gaze raked Casey from head to toe, lingering on her curves as he said, “That’s
the one. You’ll knock ‘em dead in that, baby, and win me a few kudos with my
boss.” He came and stood behind her, “Here.” He lifted her hair into a loose
bun on top of her head. “A traffic stopper is what you are.”
Melanie
chimed in, adding her approval. “Few women can carry off that particular
style,” she enthused, “but you have the perfect figure.”
At
five foot six, slender with long dancer’s legs, slim waist and a generously perky
bosom, the dress made her figure look fabulous and the color suited her
perfectly. She turned this way and that, examining the view from the front,
side and rear. She would have to practice taking tiny steps; otherwise, she’d topple
and faceplant. Not the kind of impression she wanted to make. Without Ian and
Melanie’s input, she would never have picked a dress that exposed her figure so
much, but she would only wear it the once, so why not? Besides, tomorrow or the
day after, she’d sell it on eBay and pay for the basic management skills course
she had her eye on and, if there was enough left, for a rock-climbing course.
She wanted more out of life than answering phones and was willing to work hard
to achieve her goals. She regarded Ian. “Let’s go with this one.”
“Lucy
will be at yours at six to do your hair and makeup, and I’ll pick you up at
seven-fifteen,” Ian reminded her as they left the shop, bags in hand, and headed
into the sweltering London streets.
“How
much did this lot cost you?” Casey asked. She’d tried to see the amount on the
cash register when Ian gave Lottie his credit card, but he moved, blocking her view.
“Don’t
you worry that pretty head of yours about that,” Ian replied with a wink. “What
do you imagine expense accounts are for?”
The
tiniest nitpicking doubt waved a hand. She ignored it. Putting her trust and
commitment issues with men aside, she had agreed to go and she would keep her word.
***
The book is currently available at the following digital retailers: Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ShhLvO Kobo: https://bit.ly/2OzHLl1
Apple ibooks: https://apple.co/2SnN2xo
Have a great week, be kind to others and to yourself and keep reading.
Best wishes,
Teagan.