I’m delighted to be a part of the blog tour for the fantastic Party Girl by Rachel Hollis. With excerpts, reviews, giveaways and a Party Girl themed Holiday recipe there’s stacks to get excited about! So let’s get started with an expert from the story…
Back in the lobby of the SSE building I juggle the coffee tray and hit the button for the elevator. I step in and as the doors slide together I shove the entirety of the remaining muffin into my mouth in an attempt to finish it before I reach the top floor. No one has expressly forbidden it, but I’m pretty sure carbs aren’t allowed inside this building. I have just started chewing the gorging mouthful when a hand flies between the closing elevator doors. The doors slide back open and standing just outside of them is…
Jesus, in his human form.
Ok, not Jesus. Not Jesus, but easily the hottest man I have ever seen in my life! Did I just call Jesus a hottie? I did, I think I did and I’m for sure going to burn in hell. I guess I just meant that this guy is so beautiful he’s got to be some kind of deity. He’s well over six feet tall and has perfectly tousled dark blonde hair and the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His skin is sun-browned surfer perfection and he’s rocking this sort of scruffy five o’clock shadow and lips that no one of the male species deserves to have.
He’s wearing a perfectly cut light gray suit, a crisp white button down and no tie. He doesn’t necessarily look old but he feels very grown up. He fairly oozes confidence and money
… and I’m sure his suit probably cost more than my car.
The guy takes a step inside and resumes typing into the phone in his hands. I see him open another email on his screen and start reading, completely unaware of my presence. It’s only after he starts typing a response that I realize I have a mouthful of muffin that I’ve stopped chewing and I’m just staring at him like a deranged chipmunk.
I duck my head and do one massive swallow.
Like all late-in-the-day pastries this one is totally dried out and it absolutely refuses to go down my throat! My eyes dart to him to make sure he’s not looking at me. Of course he’s looking at me! My eyes are bugging out and I’m trying not to spill the coffees. I start choking and coughing like a moron but I swear, I’m doing my best to asphyxiate as demurely as possible!
There’s dreamy guy looking all pulled together and gorgeous and here’s me being all Cough-Spastic Breath-Wheeze-Cough-Cough-Death Rattle… This is it. I’m going to choke to death in an elevator dressed like I’m on my way to a hooker’s funeral and this blonde male model is going to watch me die!!
All of the sudden he steps in front of me looking concerned.
“Are you ok?”
Even as I’m coughing bits of bran muffin into my hand I can’t help but stare up at his mouth. His teeth are perfect. I wonder if he ever had braces.
He doesn’t wait for my response, since clearly I’m in no position to give him one. He just takes the coffee tray from me with one hand and starts pounding me on the back way too hard. My coughing fades slightly and he reaches to grab a drink at random.
“Here, drink this.” He hands me the coffee.
I shake my head, my voice coming out squeaky. “Not mine.”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot, “I’m sure whoever it belongs to won’t mind.”
I clear my throat about fourteen more times and then try and speak again.
“She’d mind.” I choke out “I doubt she’d use the liquid in it to put me out if I was on fire.” I reach out to take the tray back.
The model looks at me skeptically, but he relinquishes the tray. “If you say so.”
I nod stupidly and I take one giant sideways step to give myself some space. He watches me for a beat and then turns around to face the elevator doors again.
Through the speaker in the ceiling Lionel Richie is reminding me that he’s easy like Sunday morning
… it’s the perfect awkward song for this horrendously awkward moment. God, can’t this thing move any faster? I look up to see the progress of the elevator car
… three more floors to go.
Right then is when I realize that he hasn’t hit the button for a different floor.
Which means he’s also going to the top floor, and SSE is the only office up there. Which means he’s headed there too. Ugh!
Finally, blessedly, the doors open up and I don’t even look at my companion or the rude receptionist. I just make a B-line past the partition and head for my chair. I’ve never been so desperate to sit in a hidden corner in my life! Only, as I’m walking, I realize the model is following me. I don’t hear him speak with the receptionist or anyone else, and no one acknowledges him as he trails behind me, so clearly him being in this space isn’t unusual.
Oh please Lord and Baby Jesus do not let him be
“Brody Ashton, you’ve kept me waiting.” Selah purrs from the doorframe of her
office. She’s reapplied her lip-gloss; I can see the shine all the way from here. Also that
flirty voice is back, and I know without question, this is the “Brody” from her phone call earlier.
I continue walking, but for the smallest moment I squeeze my eyes shut as if it might erase this car wreck that is my life.
Just keep moving forward. Keep smiling. Nothing to see here people.
I walk towards Selah since she’s standing directly in front of me and clearly sees that I’ve got her coffee in my hand. When I’m a few feet away she nods her head towards the office.
“Put it on my desk, Brinkley,” she says, looking past me. I walk past her and set the drink down on the desk. All the while I’m wondering if maybe I should have just let the bran muffin take me when it had the chance.
I turn from the desk, tray in hand, and keep my eyes trained on my shoes. When
I get to the door, Selah is in my way and I have no choice but to look up at her and Brody. Light blue eyes consider me for a second before looking away.
“We seem to be in the way here,” he says, pulling her to the side to let me pass.
“I didn’t even think of getting you something B; I can send her back if you want,” Selah tells him.
She doesn’t even look at me when she asks, just continues to stare at him smiling her glossy fake smile.
“No, I’m good. Thank you though. Are you ready?”
I don’t wait to hear what she says; I’m already back in the small office handing out the other coffees and thinking very seriously about how much alcohol I might need to drink to forget the last hour of my life.
Click here to read on & get your copy of Party Girl…