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  • Two to Tango

    Two to Tango is here -blog
    Quickie Update
    Hello everyone!
    I hope the sun is shining wherever you are! I’m just popping in to let you know that Scarlett and Jake’s love story is ready and waiting for you! I can’t tell you how much fun I had writing this romantic comedy!

    If you’re looking for a swoony, upbeat, funny love story set in a gorgeous setting, TWO TO TANGO is LIVE on Amazon, Nook and iBooks! Yay! I'm so proud to be able to share this book internationally!
    *If you liked the movie "The Holiday" and watch Dancing with the Stars, imagine the setting in Napa Valley and this is the story for you:
    2-Two to Tango-Review 1
    Two to Tango US-AMAZON Link
    US Amazon Link
    Scarlett doesn't know it yet, but she's being set up by two, matchmaking grannies. So far, the geriatric mod squad have managed to trap her in a gorgeous wine country guest house with their grandson (and great-nephew), Jake. 
    Now, they're making it impossible for Scarlett and Jake to say no, to what could be the dance of a lifetime. 
    *Scarlett is a baker, Jake is a San Francisco sportscaster, so if you enjoy tropes, Two to Tango covers several: Fish Out of Water, Accidental Roommate, Matchmaker, and Second Chances. Scarlett and Jake met before, years ago and have never forgotten each other. 

    With Scarlett by his side, will Jake discover a three-minute tango is the dance of a lifetime?
    *Two to Tango is a standalone Romantic Comedy. (Love scenes happen behind closed doors.)
    Nice to see you too-Two to Tango
    two to tango book 3d
    Two to Tango (Universal Links)
    Free Read:
    Two to Tango (sneak peek):
    (Attention Love in the Vineyards fans: Sarah Dupont from Love at Last plays a role in this book and you'll also get a glimpse of what's in store for Nico Santino!)
    Chapter One
    Crouched next to her Volkswagen, using the Jetta for cover, Scarlett Hale peered over the hood. There didn’t seem to be anything out of order. But then there rarely was in this quiet neighborhood of Victorian and Craftsman bungalow homes. 
    And surprisingly, there wasn’t a nosy neighbor in sight. If her family got wind of her being back in St. Helena without telling them, she’d have some explaining to do.
    She double-checked the address and stuck her phone back in her pocket. Already in a sweat from ninety-degree weather and the fifty-five-mile drive from Davis, she shouldered her duffel and sprinted to the front yard. Skimming the perimeter of the immaculate garden, Scarlett spotted the fake blue rock in the corner near the rose bush, and made a beeline for it. 
    Her long brown ponytail swished against her back as she raced across the grass while keeping an eagle eye on her surroundings, knowing if any of the town's orthopedically-clad busybodies spotted her, they’d tattle.
    Scarlett glanced over her shoulder again before tipping the rock over and finding the key exactly where her best friend, Sarah, said it would be. With it clamped in her fist, Scarlett tore across the yard, took two steps at a time up the front porch stairs, unlocked the door, dashed inside, and slammed it shut.
    Whew! Mission accomplished. 
    Now she just had to stay out of sight until after tomorrow's meeting at the bakery. 
    She bolted the door behind her, turned…and the view took her breath away. A wall of windows revealed an olive tree-bordered patio with a fire pit, table, and sofas. Beyond, row after row of plump vines climbed up a rolling hill brushed with purple hues. It must have been a breeze that made the vines dip and shimmy. Or maybe the late afternoon light created an optical illusion. Whatever it was, the grapevines appeared to be dancing.
    Scarlett blew out a sigh and looked around. Now, this is a great room. 
    To the right, in front of the wall of windows, a bright stainless steel kitchen with a basket of goodies, a cheese board, and a bottle of wine on a marble counter welcomed her. To the left, deep sofas surrounded a magnificent stone fireplace underneath the largest flat screen television she’d ever seen.
    Naturally, Sarah had downplayed the accommodations when she referred to this place as a "cottage no one ever uses." And who could blame her? Sarah had been dating actor Jamie Santino for a few years. Scarlett couldn’t imagine the private villas and penthouse suites Sarah was probably used to now. 
    Under ordinary circumstances, Scarlett wouldn’t have accepted Sarah’s invitation. But when Sarah called with the scoop that her dear friends, the owners of the Cupcake Palace in St. Helena wanted to sell the business and move to Willamette Valley, Scarlett took Sarah up on her offer and hightailed it to wine country, before the word could get out. Sarah convinced her, the owners were looking for the right person, not necessarily the highest bidder, to take over the business they’d nurtured for almost two decades. 
    Scarlett dreamed of having her own business and had saved up for years. If tomorrow’s meeting went well—Scarlett tried to not get her hopes up—but if it did, it would put her back in easy driving distance to Sarah. Scarlett’s family would be ecstatic.
    Her flip-flops slapped against the beige flagstone tiles while she carried her duffel through the great room and down the hall on the left, to the bedroom Sarah said would be hers. Feeling like a snoop, even though there was no reason to, she cautiously peeked into the room before tiptoeing in. What have we here? A bedroom made for a princess with very high-end taste?
    Glancing up occasionally to watch the dimming light play on the vines through the French doors, Scarlett tossed the duffel bag on the bed and unpacked her perfectly bland, perfectly suited-for-any-occasion wardrobe. 
    With the sunset sky bouncing grenadine hues off the cream bedroom walls, Scarlett made a pact with herself to do a little shopping after tomorrow’s meeting. After all, she was taking time off for the first time in years. There would be no three am alarm, and she didn’t have to wear her basic baking uniform of jeans, clogs and a T-shirt. Not that she minded wearing them, but what a difference it would make, to wear them in her own kitchen. Her heart raced with excitement, but she couldn’t tell a soul, not until after the meeting.
    Happily, the Top Ramen dinner she packed—so she could stay in hiding and avoid shopping—survived the road trip relatively unscathed at the bottom of her duffel. 
    After freshening up, Scarlett took off her bra and slingshotted it into an open drawer. The torture device had been digging into her all day.
    Then she changed into her most faded and beloved yoga pants and a tee, grabbed the dented Top Ramen Styrofoam cup, and traipsed back toward the kitchen to investigate. By the look of the spread on the counter she passed on the way in, she could save the dried noodles for another day. 
    Still clutching her Top Ramen, she entered the front room. The sun had set, and the view out the enormous window was dark now.
    The kitchen light was on. 
    She crept closer and quickly scanned the kitchen, from the window to the basket on the counter and down. 
    She froze.
    Fear pulsed through her in quick spurts. With his broad back facing her, a man with thick, light cocoa hair, wrapped in only a towel, was crouched in front of the counter, rummaging through a bottom cabinet full of pans, and making a racket. Metal clanged against metal, banging and reverberating through the space… 
    …and still Scarlett couldn’t move. An assailant so cocky he doesn’t bother to put a shirt on? The front door. Get. To. The. Door. Scarlett sucked in a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.
    The man ducked, grabbed his towel, and looked wildly around the room. “What?!”
    She hadn’t meant to scream, didn’t have time to think twice, just hurled the Top Ramen at him with all her might. The mixture of adrenaline and skill from her years on Oregon State's softball team propelled the soup at a high speed in a straight line. 
    Thwack! It smacked him square on the forehead. 
    The intruder was none other than Jake Martelli, San Francisco sportscaster, Jamie Santino’s cousin, and the man she spent the majority of Jessica Kelly’s wedding reception with. 
    He straightened and hit his head on the lip of the countertop. “Shit.” Rubbing his scalp, he scrambled to his feet, one hand still clutching the towel. “Hey. Hi. Wow.” 
    “What are you doing here?” Sarah hadn’t mentioned she’d be sharing the place. And certainly not with him. What the hell, Sarah?

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