LAST CALL CASANOVA

When the one woman not interested in going home with Anthony is the only one he wants, it’s last call for this Casanova…

ANTHONY

I’m back in Hope Harbor, the little town I can’t stay away from, for my buddy’s wedding to the love of his life. They’re perfect together. I’m happy for them, but that kind of relationship isn’t in my wheelhouse. Not anymore. Everything changes once there’s a picture of you holding an oversized check splashed across the internet. When it’s public knowledge you won the lottery and have ten million in the bank, everybody wants a piece of you.

Been there, got burned, and have the scorch marks to prove it. Money’s not the only thing I keep locked up now. My heart’s in the vault too. But there’s one piece of me I’ve been happy to share since then, and it’s guaranteed to satisfy. Looking for a good time? I’m your man. Just don’t look for more. That’s the rule. Or it was, until I met Mya.

Hope Harbor is full of gorgeous fish happy to hop on my hook anytime I’m in town. Too bad the only one I want doesn’t fall for my lines, and has no interest in my pole. Pretty sure she’d be happy if I took a long walk off the end of the short pier and never resurfaced.

The more Mya pushes me away, the more I want to reel her in. The truth is—I’m the one who’s hooked. And one night together is all it takes to know I never want to be released.

Hot Contemporary Romance • 10,000 words • © Karla Doyle, June 20, 2022

Hope Harbor Series

Standalone Novella • Short Read (1 hour) • Happily Ever After • No Cliffhanger • Linked Series

Last Call Casanova can be read as a standalone story, but the characters are first introduced in Dad Bod Wingman. For maximum enjoyment of this story, the author suggests reading Dad Bod Wingman first.

Heat Level — 3/6

ISBN: 9781990500121 (ebook), 9781990500169 (print), ASIN B09XRF9JCL

Available in ebook & paperback • Listen to the free audiobook on the Read Me Romance podcast

Books in the Hope Harbor Series
Excerpt

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Mya

The newlyweds’ limo disappears from view, leaving me alone with Anthony, yet again. Everywhere I turned tonight, he was there. Seemingly inescapable, like my shadow, or a foul odor. Only, he smells great. Too great. It’s hard enough trying to ignore his good looks. Having to breathe in whatever expensive cologne he wears too…

I should’ve stopped drinking after the champagne toast. The open bar—another gift from Anthony—meant cocktails constantly flowed my way, despite not asking for any. I’m blaming the buzzy lightness in my head for looking at Anthony way too many times tonight. It’s alcohol-induced appreciation. Nothing more. I won’t be notch number five on his bedpost. But replay everything he said to me earlier… I’ll be doing that all night. Including when I’m alone in my bed later. Well, not entirely alone. I’ll have my—

“What’s going on in that incredibly beautiful head of yours?”

“Bob.” Shit! Damn tequila.

Anthony’s dark eyebrows knit together. “Who’s Bob?”

“Nobody.” Thank God it’s dark out and I’m wearing gobs of makeup. The last person I want seeing me blush is Anthony.

“You’re thinking about Bob with a dreamy look on your face, but he’s nobody?”

“Fine, he’s my boyfriend. I just don’t like to talk about him. Our relationship is very private.” Haha! Nailed it.

Anthony’s ever-present smile fades. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Why would you? We’re not friends. We’re not anything.” Being bitchy is sobering. Also necessary. He’s already too close. I can’t let him get closer.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he says, tipping his damn handsome head. “Now or earlier. I’m going to call it a night. Do you need anything before I take off?”

Yes. I need him to look at me the way he did while we were dancing. And I need him to mean it—for more than one night. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“No lie there, you’re the finest woman in the place. Bob’s a very lucky man.” Sparks race up my arm when he catches my hand and presses a kiss to my folded fingers. “Goodnight, Mya.”

My throaty, “Goodnight” is swallowed by the summer night as he walks toward the parking lot, rather than return to the hall, where he could easily pick someone up. Maybe he’s not the consummate player I pegged him for. If that’s the case, why act the part? More importantly, why do I care? Shit.