Title: Accidental Tryst
Author: Natasha Boyd
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Publisher: Natasha Boyd
Release Date: March 6, 2018
Genre: Contemporary, Comedy, Romance
Two strangers accidentally switch cell phones in a busy airport in this edgier You've Got Mail, sexy romance for the smart-phone era ...
Emmy
What a disaster! I only just made my flight to New York to help my uncle, and the phone I’m holding is not mine! It seems to belong to some commitment-phobic serial dater who’s never made it past four dates (according to the constant notifications he's getting from his fake dating profile...) And worse? I have a sinking feeling it’s that hot suit-monkey with the arctic grey eyes I just had a run-in with at the airport. Somehow, I have to persuade him not to get a new phone until I get back. My whole life is on that phone. I knew I should have backed it up. It’s only a few days. Surely, we can handle it.
Trystan
This is a joke, right? My life could not get more f*cked up. I’m in the middle of selling my company and on my way to a funeral and that hot mess hippie-chick stole my freaking phone. I’m not sure how she convinced me not to immediately walk into a smart phone store and get a new one, but now she’s going to have to play stand in and distract me while I deal with my long-avoided and estranged family. I don’t have my dating apps after all, and frankly she’s pretty funny. And sexy. And why can’t I stop texting her? And now we’re talking. And … look, I’ll admit that I usually run for the hills the morning after, but the morning after phone sex? That’s not really real, right?
Excerpt:
EMMY:
I dialed again. Straight to voicemail. I dialed again.
And again.
And again.
"What?" Trystan's voice barked.
"Oh, hi. This is—"
"Emmy, I know."
"Oh." I swallowed quickly while I gathered my scattered thoughts and recovered from his abrupt tone. "Um."
"What do you want?" he snapped.
Oh my God. Was this guy for real? "For you not to act like an asshole for a start."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I phoned you bec—"
"Seven times. You called seven times."
"And you ignored it seven times!"
"Because I'm in the middle of something."
"And I'm in the middle of nowhere with a suitcase and no information about where I'm staying tonight. You know why?" I ploughed on. "Because some asshole took my phone." He hissed but I talked right over it. "And now said asshole won't even answer it to help me figure out where I am supposed to sleep for the night. This ... is ... an ... emergency," I enunciated. My heart beat in my ears, my hands shook, and my face throbbed. All the tears I'd only recently been able to stuff back inside me came back rising like a tide, and I was mortified to realize my voice had begun wobbling on the last word.
There was silence and a muffled expletive on the other end and then nothing.
I frowned and pulled the phone from my ear. Did he ...?
"Ugh!" I squealed loudly, almost throwing his phone to the sidewalk in despair and swiping the tears off my cheeks. He'd hung up on me. I couldn't believe this day.
Did you seriously just hang up on me?
Suit Monkey: Keep your bloody knickers on. Information headed your way in a bit.
I blew out a breath. Thank you, I guess.
How long is this going to take you? I texted again. I'm standing on a street corner with my suitcase. Someone's going to think I'm a hooker looking for a commitment.
Suit Monkey: Just give me a fucking minute to locate it amongst all your junk mail from Cats R Us and Sewing Monthly. Jesus, you have a lot of shit in your inbox. How do you find anything?
I use the search bar, Genius.
Suit Monkey: But, whyyyyyyy do you subscribe to these things?
I rolled my eyes, and a grin tugged at my mouth even though I was irritated with him.
Suit Monkey: Never mind. Don't tell me.
Suit Monkey: Are you aware you have over 10,000 unread emails. You are a mess. HOW DO YOU LIVE?
I clean them out periodically.
Suit Monkey: Are we talking periods like Ice Age to Information Age?
Suit Monkey: Is there anything else you need because I had a shitty day that won't be over for some time, and I can't be at your beck and call. And for the record, everything about you screams commitment.
My grin evaporated. Letting out a squeak of frustration, I gritted my teeth and hammered my message out with angry fingertips.
Yes, actually. I NEED you to stop being so mean. I've also had a pretty shitty day. And your phone is literally the only thing I have to try and navigate my life right now. So please give me a tiny break. Forward the info to your inbox please.
Suit Monkey: Fine. Try not to read the rest of my email. It's confidential.
Don't worry. I'm not interested in your self-importance.
What did he do for a living that made him feel like he was king of the universe, anyway?
Suit Monkey: And just text me if you need something. Don't psycho-call me seven times straight.
At least my first instincts about him at the airport had been correct. What a tool.
Then you should answer your texts, and I won't have to.
Natasha Boyd is an internationally bestselling and award-winning author of historical fiction and contemporary romantic Southern fiction. She has a background in marketing and public relations and her debut novel Eversea was a finalist in the 2013 Winter Rose Contest for Contemporary Romance and won the 2014 Digital Book Award for Adult Fiction. Her book Deep Blue Eternity won a "best book" Chatelaine Award for Romantic Fiction. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Georgia Romance Writers, Novelists Inc., and Island Writer's Network in coastal South Carolina. She holds a Bachelor of Science in Psychology and lives with her husband, two sons and the cast of characters in her head. Her books have been translated into Italian, German, French, Turkish and Indonesian.
No comments:
Post a Comment