A summery welcome to the Blog Tour for Just My Luck by Jennifer Honeybourn. A book filled with romance, luck and fixing it, and summer. I am delighted I can be part of this tour.
For today’s post I got an unlucky excerpt, information on the book/author, and also be sure to enter the giveaway (sorry, only US/CAN).
Let’s get this lucky/unlucky tour started~
Buy the book here: Amazon
About the author:
Marty has terrible luck and she knows exactly why. While working as a housekeeper at the ritzy Grand Palms hotel in Maui, Marty made it a habit to steal small items from the guests. What better way to stick it to the rich snobs they have to clean up after? Marty knows how to turn her luck around — she just has to return all of the items she stole.
When Marty meets Will, a new guest who is staying for the summer, she does the one thing she always promised herself she’d never do — fall for an out-of-towner. But Will’s special, different from the other guests at the hotel. Maybe Marty’s luck is finally turning around.
After a string of misunderstandings and accidents threaten Will and Marty’s relationship, Marty has to find a way to fix her luck for good — or say goodbye to Will forever.
Find her here:
Jennifer Honeybourn works in corporate communications in Vancouver, British Columbia. She’s a fan of British accents, Broadway musicals, and epic, happily-ever-after love stories. If she could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, she’d have high tea with Walt Disney, JK Rowling, and her nana. She lives with her husband, daughter and cat in a house filled with books. Wesley James Ruined My Life is her first novel.
“The tall one is cute.”
I pick up a stapler, even though I have nothing to staple. “I didn’t notice.”
Benjie scoffs. “When have you not noticed cute?”
I frown. He’s right — every hot guy who crosses our path is usually up for immediate discussion. I don’t know why I’m being weird about Will.
That’s a lie. I do know why — whatever it was that just passed between Will and me, it’s something I haven’t felt since Kahale. And look how that turned out. I don’t want Benjie to pick up on this, because he will never let it go.
He sets the muffins in front of me. “You like him.”
Okay, so obviously I’m not doing a very good job of hiding my feelings.
“I don’t even know him,” I reply.
“The beginning is the best part of a relationship.” Benjie sighs. “I remember those days.”
“Those days were not that long ago,” I remind him. He’s only been with Aaron, one of the hotel’s chefs, for a couple of months. “And calm yourself. The last thing I’m interested in is a relationship.”
“Fine — fling, dalliance, summer romance. Call it what you want,” he says. “I call it love.”
I snort. “I talked to him for ten seconds.” And, okay, it was a pretty meaningful ten seconds, but still. Love is the furthest thing from what that was.
I grab one of the chocolate chip muffins — one of the benefits of working with someone well connected to the kitchen — and take a large bite. I cry out a something crunches horribly in my mouth and an excruciating pain shoots through my gums.
Benjie wrinkles his nose as I spit the muffin out into my hand.
“I think I just chipped my tooth.”
“I don’t think that’s even possible,” he says. “Muffins are practically pre-chewed. There’s nothing to chip your tooth on.”
But he moves a bit closer to me and peers into my mouth. “Oh my god!” he cries. “Half of your front tooth is missing!”
I groan and run my tongue over the jaggedy edge of what’s left of my tooth. “Great.”
“Maybe they can reattach it or something.”
“It’s not like a finger,’ I say, but I dig the shard out of the spit-out remains of the muffin, just in case. My hands are shaking as I drop the shard of tooth into my pocket.
I take a deep breath to try to calm my nerves. My luck seems to be getting worse with each passing day, and it’s starting to get to me. I’ve done everything I could think of to try and flip my karma — no sneaking out, no talking back to my mom (well, mostly), no taking things that don’t belong to me. I’ve picked up every penny I’ve come across on the street. I feng shui’d our entire house. I’ve hung horseshoes above my door, bought a rabbit’s foot — a faux one, but still. I even considered getting a four-leaf-clover tattoo, until I realized my mom would kill me dead, so I settled for a necklace with a charm of the lucky symbol instead.
I’ve been a model citizen for an entire month. Nothing has worked. My luck still sucks.
And I have no idea how to fix it.
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