Love on the Rocks (with Salt) (9 page)

I would like to extend a huge
thank you to Lisa Lenk (oh yeah, and her awesome husband Tom), for
letting me crash at their beach house in solitude so I could finish
this book. Without your kindness I would still be stuck on the
first draft, whining that I had no time or place to write. Everyone
should be lucky enough to have friends who are as lovely and
generous as Lisa and Tom (who also happen to own a beach house).
Lisa, your many years of friendship have been such a joy and a
blessing to me. My world is 100 percent better with you in
it.

I would also like to thank my
wonderful writing group members: Julie Gardner, Kim Prince, Laurel
Janssen, Lexi Rohner and Rina Nedhar. You ladies hold me
accountable, hold me up, make me laugh and always give me what I
need.

Thank you to my parents: my mom
and stepdad, Susan and Bill; and my dad and stepmom, Terry and Sue,
for being my biggest fans.

Thank you to Marley, Chandler and
Dave. You are my heart and my soul, my inspiration, and make me
want to be better.

And finally to Adria Cimino and
Vicki Lesage, the best publishers a girl could ask for. Thank you
for your patience, putting up with my slow timetable, your sublime
editing skills and for just being genuinely spectacular people. I’m
so happy and proud to be taking this awesome ride with
you.

Charlene Ross lives in L.A. and
enjoys writing about relationships and those life-changing kinds of
moments—with plenty of humor!

Charlene hopes you
enjoyed
Love on the Rocks (with
Salt)
. If so, you’ll make her day by
leaving a review at your favorite retailer. For every review—even
just a few sentences—her retailer sends Charlene a margarita. OK,
not really. But reviews do help convince other people to choose her
book, which is arguably better. Depending on the
tequila.

Want more? Check out
Frosted Cowboy
, a novel
that picks up with Laney’s post-Kyle story and follows her as she
tries to discover who she really wants to be—and be
with.

And for more about Charlene
and her writing life, visit
CharleneARoss.com
, and
join her mailing list at
http://bit.ly/charlene-ross-news
for news and deals.

Read on for a sneak peek
of
Frosted Cowboy
…

One tequila, two
tequila...

Take a step back in time
with Laney Delaney, the fun and sassy heroine of
Frosted Cowboy
.

In this hilarious story, we travel back to
Laney’s college days. When Laney and her best friend Amanda
backpack around Europe, anything can happen! And it does in this
exciting tale set on the Greek Island of Ios. So grab some tequila
and get ready for a bumpy ride as you take off to Europe with this
dynamic duo.

Get it for free! Join
Charlene’s new release mailing list and she’ll send you a free copy
of
Tequila Slammer
:
http://bit.ly/charlene-ross-news

F
ROSTED COWBOY

a novel

CHARLENE ROSS

I study the drink menu as if my life depends
on it. And I guess in a way it does. It’s time to shake things up.
I will not be drinking my usual margarita or cosmo
tonight.

“
I’ll have a Frosted Cowboy,” I
tell the bartender as I look around the bar at this supposed
Hollywood hot spot and wonder what the hell I’m doing here. Every
woman in the room is wearing some kind of cowboy getup and bright
red lipstick à la the newest Katy Perry video featuring her
incredibly sexy rodeo-star boyfriend-of-the-week. And the men, sans
lipstick, don’t look much different.

“
What’s in this thing?” I ask the
bartender.

“
Can’t be giving away all my
secrets.” He winks.

I bet he goes home with a different girl every
night. Maybe tonight, it could be me. Oh God, what am I doing here?
I’ve never gone home with a guy at a bar in my life. And where is
Natalie? She’s late, and I’m already starting to feel a buzz from
my new favorite drink. I should have tagged along to her work
dinner instead of meeting her here.

I hope I don’t look too stupid in these satin
pants and a western shirt. And this ridiculous cowboy hat has
already ruined my hair for the night.

“
Everybody will be wearing a hat
at this place,” Natalie said when we went shopping. “You’ll totally
stand out if you’re not.”

I thought standing out was a good
thing.

“
Don’t you think I’m a little old
for this fake cowboy gear?” I asked her when I looked in the
dressing room mirror.

“
No way!” Natalie said. “You look
hot. Thirties are the new twenties.”

Sigh. So here I sit amongst
super-hip, ultra-skinny, beautiful people; a thirty-two-year-old
Katy Perry wannabe, waiting for my fabulous single friend. If I had
known the bar scene was going to be like this, I might have
forgiven Kyle. Of course it’s pretty hard to get over walking in on
your fiancé and a slutty paralegal from his office in the discovery
phase.
On the kitchen counter.
I couldn’t picture myself chopping vegetables
there again. But honestly, spraying the counter with a little
bleach and pretending I’d never witnessed him inserting his brief
into her filing cabinet might be preferable to hanging out in
hipster cowboy bars every Saturday night.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror
behind the bar. Under this stupid hat, I have mousy brown hair I’ve
been disguising as strawberry-blonde for as long as I can remember.
My hairdresser has been trying to convince me for years to ditch my
just-past-the-shoulders style, but being a creature of habit, I
find that if something works, you stick with it.

The lids of my light-green eyes are caked in
glittery eye shadow, and for once, my nose, which is small and
turns up a bit, isn’t shiny. I rarely wear lipstick even though my
full lips are probably my best feature, but tonight they’re glossy
and pink.

I’m relatively thin, but I don’t have that
great of a figure. Broad shoulders, small boobs, and an ass that
could give Kim Kardashian a run for her money. Fortunately, I was
blessed with a small waist and flat stomach, a bit of an hourglass
shape. A pear-shaped hourglass anyway.

My hot bartender boyfriend slides over another
Frosted Cowboy and points toward the end of the bar. “From the guy
in the cowboy hat.”

They’re all wearing cowboy
hats.

“
That guy?” I ask hopefully,
pointing to the hottie at the end of the bar. “The one with the
light blue shirt with pearl snaps?”

“
Nope,” the bartender tells me.
“The one with the big Smith & Wesson belt buckle standing next
to him.”

I look down the bar to spot my benefactor.
Ugh. It figures.

He strolls over to me. “Looked like you needed
a fresh drink,” he says.

“
Thanks, but I was getting ready
to leave.”

“
But I saw you walk in,” he says.
“You just got here.”

Oh great, a stalker.

“
My friend’s late. I’m not into
hanging out alone until she gets here.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize
my rookie mistake.

“
Why don’t you hang out with us
until she gets here?”

Mr. Pearl Snaps smiles and raises his
glass.

Well, well, well. Maybe I will stay. But I
need to figure out a way to lose Mr. Smith & Wesson. Pretty
tricky considering I’ve been out of the game for seven years, but
I’m always up for a challenge.

“
Thanks,” I say, picking up my
Frosted Cowboy. “Why not?”

“
Hi,” I say to Mr. Pearl
Snaps.

“
Hi yourself,” he shoots back.
Wow! This guy is even better looking up close. He looks exactly
like Chris Pine. Except with darker hair and brown eyes. “I’m Tom,
and I see you’ve already met Bill. What’s your name?”

I shake my head and realize I’m staring.
“Sorry. For a minute you kind of looked like someone
else.”

“
I know. I look just like Chris
Pine but with brown eyes. I get that all the time.”

Did he say,
I look just like Chris Pine
?! Ha! What an ego! Is this what single guys are like these
days?

“
That’s quite a
coincidence,” I say. “People are always telling me I look just like
that chick who was on the cover of the
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit edition
this year. We both have green eyes, and we
are
both women. Of course I’m not an
emaciated lollipop with a boob job, and we have different color
hair, but other than that…”

“
Touché,” Tom says to me, tipping
his hat.

“
Zing. She got you there, buddy,”
Bill says. “I’m gonna like hanging out with you.”

“
I haven’t decided if you guys get
to or not.”

Tom looks at me with those deep brown eyes and
says, “You’re feisty. I like that.”

Oh my God. Tom may have quite the ego, but he
is so sexy. Feisty. No one has ever called me feisty before. I was
just trying to be funny. I don’t know if I can keep all this
feistiness up.

I see Natalie walking toward us. I might have
to kill her. She’s so beautiful with her blonde hair, pale blue
eyes and perfect figure. And she’s not wearing a cowboy
hat!

“
Hey, Tom. Hey, Bill. It didn’t
take you two players long to swoop down on Laney. You can smell new
meat a mile away.”

“
Natalie is the friend you’re
waiting for?” Bill asks.

“
Yeah,” I say, a little confused.
“How do you all know each other?”

“
From the clubs,” Bill
answers.

“
The clubs?”

“
Sure,” Natalie answers. “You go
to a different club every night of the week. You get to know the
people. I bet these two spotted you the second you walked in the
door. They’ve probably got a bet going to see who gets to go home
with you tonight. Don’t be too swayed by Tom’s looks. Bill’s
smarter and funnier. And he makes a hell of a lot more money. He’s
a screenwriter. Tom’s a writer too, but unless things have changed,
he hasn’t sold a script. How is it you pay the rent, Tom? Painting
rich women’s toenails?”

My head is spinning. I don’t know where to
start. Do they really have a bet over who gets to sleep with me?
Should I be flattered or insulted? And a different club every
night? How do they get up and go to work the next
morning?

Trying my best to sound feisty, what I manage
to say is, “You’re a pedicurist?”

“
I’m a writer. My day job is
massage therapy specializing in reflexology. You’d be surprised
what you can find out about people’s health by massaging their
feet.” He says this in a way that makes me want to rip my boots off
so he can show me exactly what he specializes in.

“
Oh,” I reply. So much for
feisty.

I don’t know whether I should be grossed out
or intrigued. Who doesn’t love having their feet massaged? But
maybe this guy is some creep with a foot fetish.

“
Come on,” Natalie says to me. “My
friends from work are over there.”

As Natalie grabs my arm and pulls me across
the floor, I turn to Tom and Bill and thank them for the drink. Tom
winks at me, and my heart melts a little. Arrogant or not, that guy
is sexy.

I met Natalie when I moved into her apartment
building after Kyle and I split up four months ago. She’s an
assistant at a small record label, and this is my first night
tagging along with record-industry types. Other than the multiple
piercings, tattoos, and of course the cowboy hats, they don’t look
much different from the people I work with.