hours-old coffee. I wasn’t really built to be a stable hand, and I didn’t think there was a strip joint in Vilas.
As I was getting up to pay my check, Holt and the older bartender walked through the front door. Holt ambled over to me with a sweet smile on his face.
“Nice to see you haven’t left our little town yet. Thinkin’ about sticking around?” He spit into a Dixie cup and I could smell the wintergreen chew that was wadded up in his lower lip.
I held up the paper and shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat and there ain’t any jobs here for me it seems.”
“Hey Bucky, aren’t we still looking for a daytime bartender?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the one Abel hired last week quit on me Monday night.”
“Well there ya have it. I’ll talk to Abel about it. Come by in a few hours and we’ll get ya all set up.”
Just like that I had a freaking job in a town I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in. At least I knew I was going to be able to keep a roof over my head and hopefully finance another move, if nothing else.
Grab your copy of UNACCEPTABL E➝ http://amzn.to/1Cs6uvA
Sneak Peek
Stupid Hearts
Chapter 1.
Well, crap.
Got home from a long ass shoot in Virginia Beach at the ass crack of dawn after a terrible flight full of turbulence and a screaming baby. Made sure Dozer was all settled in, filled up his food and water bowls, fluffed his oversized bed in the living room, and made sure he was happily gnawing on a gigantic rawhide. Finally took a deep breath as I slipped off my favorite dark brown and black ostrich boots.
I slunk into my closet-sized bathroom and started running the water. It looked like Pepto-Bismol had puked all over the damn thing. From the tiles to the bathtub and even the toilet, it was saturated in the awful pink color. The old pipes complained loudly until steaming hot water bellowed from the faucet.
I stripped off my typical black loose fitting V-neck and skintight black skinny jeans, then stood staring at my tired eyes in the mirror. The curls had fallen out of my hair a while ago and the makeup I’d applied at four in the morning was smudged and faded. I looked like a freaking train wreck standing like a Looney Tune in my underwear. I peeled off my black lace bra and matching thong and sank into a much needed scalding hot bath to relax.
After toweling off, throwing my long dark brown locks into a messy dripping bun, and slipping into my pajamas at eleven o’clock in the morning, the only thing left to do was unpack my carry-on bag.
By far my least favorite part of the whole traveling for work thing was living out of a suitcase. Oh, and the never ending laundry once I finally got home.
It continued to be a typical Monday morning until I started to go through the zipped pocket of my suitcase where I normally stowed all of my intimates, including my pink bullet vibrator. What the hell did I find?
Nothing.
All of my favorite thongs were gone. All of my beautiful lace bras that matched those thongs were gone. Devastation set in fast when I realized my favorite vibrator—the one that had been on the road with me for the past three years—was gone.
Well crap!
After three hours of no luck with complaining about the travesty of my stolen intimates to anyone that picked up the phone, I slumped onto the couch to stew in a pissed off channel surfing escapade and mourn the loss of my battery powered o-maker.
My phone buzzed on the light wooden coffee table, next to where my socked feet were resting. The screen displayed an unknown eight-hundred number.
I answered, “This is Jolene.”
An automated voice came on the line. “Hello. It has come to our attention that you were dissatisfied with our customer service regarding luggage handling. Please hold for a customer service operator.”
Fester.
Fester.
Fester.
At that point my blood was boiling and I was ready to bite the head off of this customer service operator.
“Hello. This is Maureen. It appears that you
As I was getting up to pay my check, Holt and the older bartender walked through the front door. Holt ambled over to me with a sweet smile on his face.
“Nice to see you haven’t left our little town yet. Thinkin’ about sticking around?” He spit into a Dixie cup and I could smell the wintergreen chew that was wadded up in his lower lip.
I held up the paper and shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat and there ain’t any jobs here for me it seems.”
“Hey Bucky, aren’t we still looking for a daytime bartender?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the one Abel hired last week quit on me Monday night.”
“Well there ya have it. I’ll talk to Abel about it. Come by in a few hours and we’ll get ya all set up.”
Just like that I had a freaking job in a town I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in. At least I knew I was going to be able to keep a roof over my head and hopefully finance another move, if nothing else.
Grab your copy of UNACCEPTABL E➝ http://amzn.to/1Cs6uvA
Sneak Peek
Stupid Hearts
Chapter 1.
Well, crap.
Got home from a long ass shoot in Virginia Beach at the ass crack of dawn after a terrible flight full of turbulence and a screaming baby. Made sure Dozer was all settled in, filled up his food and water bowls, fluffed his oversized bed in the living room, and made sure he was happily gnawing on a gigantic rawhide. Finally took a deep breath as I slipped off my favorite dark brown and black ostrich boots.
I slunk into my closet-sized bathroom and started running the water. It looked like Pepto-Bismol had puked all over the damn thing. From the tiles to the bathtub and even the toilet, it was saturated in the awful pink color. The old pipes complained loudly until steaming hot water bellowed from the faucet.
I stripped off my typical black loose fitting V-neck and skintight black skinny jeans, then stood staring at my tired eyes in the mirror. The curls had fallen out of my hair a while ago and the makeup I’d applied at four in the morning was smudged and faded. I looked like a freaking train wreck standing like a Looney Tune in my underwear. I peeled off my black lace bra and matching thong and sank into a much needed scalding hot bath to relax.
After toweling off, throwing my long dark brown locks into a messy dripping bun, and slipping into my pajamas at eleven o’clock in the morning, the only thing left to do was unpack my carry-on bag.
By far my least favorite part of the whole traveling for work thing was living out of a suitcase. Oh, and the never ending laundry once I finally got home.
It continued to be a typical Monday morning until I started to go through the zipped pocket of my suitcase where I normally stowed all of my intimates, including my pink bullet vibrator. What the hell did I find?
Nothing.
All of my favorite thongs were gone. All of my beautiful lace bras that matched those thongs were gone. Devastation set in fast when I realized my favorite vibrator—the one that had been on the road with me for the past three years—was gone.
Well crap!
After three hours of no luck with complaining about the travesty of my stolen intimates to anyone that picked up the phone, I slumped onto the couch to stew in a pissed off channel surfing escapade and mourn the loss of my battery powered o-maker.
My phone buzzed on the light wooden coffee table, next to where my socked feet were resting. The screen displayed an unknown eight-hundred number.
I answered, “This is Jolene.”
An automated voice came on the line. “Hello. It has come to our attention that you were dissatisfied with our customer service regarding luggage handling. Please hold for a customer service operator.”
Fester.
Fester.
Fester.
At that point my blood was boiling and I was ready to bite the head off of this customer service operator.
“Hello. This is Maureen. It appears that you
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