Trials and Tribulations of a Blind Date [Paperback]
Joanne Rawson (Author),
Molly Whalen (Contributor)
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Trials and
Tribulations of a Blind Date
The Art of
Embellishing Molly Whalen
Shay Mohan always thought honesty was the best policy and you treat people the way you want to be treated. And yet every relationship she had left her feeling burned until Zoe, her friend, took matters into her own hands and signed her up on an online dating site. Things begin to heat up when the 'White Knight' appears but is he really who he says he is or just blowing smoke?
Unexpected
Blind Date by Joanne Rawson
If any of Grace Worthing's friends dared to suggest she should go on a blind date, her answer would have been, "Blind dates are so tacky; they are definitely for the desperate." She was so over men! After her fifth Sex on the Beach cocktail she told friends she would never have sex again, let alone have sex on a beach. Then, somewhere between her second and third tequila slammer, Grace found herself, agreeing to meet Adrian. Little did she know how interesting and unexpected her blind date would be.
How A Night
Unfolds by Molly Whalen
Quinn Hancock had it all, a life that everyone dreams of, but few are able to attain. She was what you called a "triple threat," brains, beauty, and financially successful, but none of those things kept her warm at night. She thought a change of scenery to the windy city may be just the thing to breathe life back into her love life. When her friend tries to fix her up on a blind date with a business associate, Quinn quickly figures out the difference between a blind date and being blindsided.
Unexpected Blind Date
Joanne Rawson
Frankly, if you asked me six months ago if I would give up my Tuesday
quiz night with the girls, or go on a blind date, then my answer would
undoubtedly have been, “Blind dates are so tacky. They are definitely for the
desperate.” From the age of sixteen I have had fourteen years of dating, ten
boyfriends, six of them lovers and, up until a year ago, had been in a
four-year relationship that hit more icebergs than the Titanic. No, my blind
date love boat days have well and truly sailed. I am so over men.
However, two weeks ago, Glenda, Nell, Christine and I, hit Cupids
Cave—Nottingham’s notorious Saturday night hot spot for eighteen to twenty year
old blushing brides to be, celebrating their last weekend of freedom. It was
reluctant moral support for Glenda, who had been press ganged into her younger
sister’s hen night. Like every member of our group, Glenda was proud not to
be married.
Tucked away in a corner, I was not sure if I was more depressed that we
were the oldest women in the club, or that I recognised so many of my ex pupils
I had taught biology to in the past few years. At least three acknowledged me,
flashing their diamond solitaires under my nose. They may not have found any
ecological break-through, but one thing was certain, they had discovered a
biological phenomenon that was oblivion to me, how to get a man and keep him.
Snivelling into my fifth Sex on the Beach cocktail, I began wallowing in
a state of drunken remorse. Leaping from my bar stool I declared the fate of my
future. “I will never have sex again, let alone have sex on a beach.”
“Of course you won’t, sweetie,” slurred Christine, pulling me back down.
“You’re in a friggin nightclub full of friggin loved up women.” As Christine
had told us a thousand times already tonight, a club with no men was sad as
someone going into a wine bar and ordering coffee. “No offense, Glenda, but I
need to find a club with some hot blooded men, and show those bad boys a good
time.”
Nell, thirty-nine, a suffragette for women’s lib, now on her third
pitcher of margaritas, for herself, slammed down her glass. “Sod it.
It’s against all my princ—princ—oh bugger it.” She took a breath to stifle a
hiccup. “Princ—iples, but the time is right for you, Grace, to meet Adrian. He
has been with us only a few months at the nut house.” The nut house being our
name for Fur Tree Mental health clinic, where Nell worked as a drama therapist.
“He is single, thirty eight, very fit, plays a lot of sports, and owns his own
house, and the catch is this; all he wants is a good time. Hell, if he was a
woman I’d make a play for him myself.”
I shook my head vigorously. “No, no, no. No blind dates,”
Somewhere between my second and third tequila slammer, the girls had
quashed all my issues of concern, emphasising all he wanted was a good time.
And, as Glenda, quite rightly pointed out, “Jeez, Grace, you don’t have to
marry the man.’ I found myself agreeing to meet Adrian.
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