Authors: Emma Heatherington
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor, #Contemporary Women, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Sagas, #New Adult & College, #Inspirational, #Women's Fiction, #Literature & Fiction
“
W
atc
h
this!
”
sh
e
sai
d
an
d
sh
e
walke
d
t
o
th
e
rhythm o
f
th
e
musi
c
ont
o
th
e
danc
e
floo
r
,
droppe
d
he
r
handbag
and
danced
around
it.
She
glowed
in
places
she
had
never
glowe
d
befor
e
an
d
th
e
girl
s
laughe
d
thei
r
head
s
of
f
a
s
she
brushe
d
of
f
littl
e
dot
s
o
f
fluf
f
fro
m
he
r
glamorou
s
dress
.
“Ha
!
Tha
t
remind
s
m
e
o
f
ou
r
clublan
d
days!
”
said
Poll
y
.
“Remembe
r
ho
w
embarrasse
d
you’
d
b
e
whe
n
your whit
e
br
a
showe
d
throug
h
everythin
g
o
r
worse
,
your knicker
s
an
d
all!
”
Rut
h
dance
d
he
r
wa
y
t
o
mee
t
Gin
a
an
d
soo
n
al
l
four o
f
the
m
wer
e
circlin
g
thei
r
bags
,
unabl
e
t
o
danc
e
a
t
times fo
r
laughin
g
a
s
the
y
san
g
alon
g
t
o
‘Whe
n
W
il
l
I
Be
Famous?
’
an
d
‘Rober
t
d
e
Niro
’
s
W
aiting’
.
T
w
o
cocktail
s
late
r
an
d
Poll
y
wa
s
feelin
g
th
e
urg
e
t
o
take th
e
mike
,
bu
t
sh
e
woul
d
neve
r
admi
t
it
.
No
t
ye
t
anyho
w
.
“Thre
e
o’clock
,
thre
e
o’clock!
”
sai
d
T
es
s
a
s
the
y
sipped thei
r
thir
d
Se
x
o
n
th
e
Beac
h
i
n
a
littl
e
boot
h
tha
t
had
velve
t
gree
n
cover
s
whic
h
totall
y
clashe
d
wit
h
th
e
carpet
.
Th
e
girl
s
di
d
a
head-spi
n
an
d
thei
r
mouth
s
dropped ope
n
whe
n
a
t
leas
t
twent
y
me
n
spille
d
int
o
th
e
ba
r
,
most o
f
the
m
lookin
g
a
bi
t
th
e
wors
e
fo
r
wea
r
,
wit
h
a
very
rugged
,
fit-as-hel
l
ringleade
r
wh
o
wa
s
wearin
g
a
T
-shirt tha
t
sai
d
‘
Sta
g
M
e
Bitch
’
unde
r
a
hug
e
pai
r
o
f
antlers
.
“O
h
swee
t
divinity!
”
sai
d
Gina
,
an
d
sh
e
lifte
d
her stra
w
t
o
he
r
mout
h
an
d
too
k
a
lon
g
drin
k
o
f
th
e
sweet
liqui
d
tha
t
sh
e
ha
d
falle
n
i
n
lov
e
with
.
“
A
sta
g
party
!
W
o
o
hoo
!
Doe
s
hi
s
T
-shir
t
sa
y
‘Sha
g
M
e
Bitch’?
”
“I
t
say
s
‘
Sta
g
M
e
Bitch’,
”
sai
d
Poll
y
.
“Bu
t
I
thin
k
it mean
s
shag
.
Ho
w
vulgar!
”
“Dream
s
d
o
com
e
true,
”
sai
d
Ruth
,
whos
e
slant
y
eyes
had
become
round
and
huge
at
the
sight
of
so
many
virile
youn
g
men
.
“It
’
s
lik
e
th
e
Iris
h
rugb
y
tea
m
hav
e
entered th
e
building
!
O
h
God
,
I
fee
l
lik
e
playin
g
Eeni
e
Meenie
Miney
Mo!
Where
on
earth
would
you
begin
to
choose?”
“
I
tol
d
yo
u
w
e
shouldn
’
t
hav
e
com
e
here,
”
sai
d
Poll
y
,
sinkin
g
furthe
r
int
o
th
e
green-velve
t
seat
.
I
t
smelle
d
a
little bi
t
vinegar
y
t
o
he
r
an
d
sh
e
picture
d
th
e
staf
f
rubbin
g
it wit
h
a
dirt
y
dishclot
h
whic
h
mad
e
he
r
ski
n
crawl
.
“This
is
going
to be
like a
reverse version
of that
TV show
T
a
k
e
M
e
Out
!
I’
m
afraid!”
Befor
e
the
y
coul
d
sa
y
‘Karm
a
Chameleon
’
(whic
h
was th
e
son
g
tha
t
wa
s
playing)
,
T
ess
,
Rut
h
an
d
Gin
a
ha
d
hit th
e
woode
n
danc
e
floo
r
agai
n
wit
h
a
vengeanc
e
a
s
Polly
watche
d
i
n
aw
e
a
t
ho
w
braze
n
the
y
reall
y
were
.
Thi
s
time ther
e
wer
e
n
o
handbag
s
i
n
th
e
centr
e
o
r
funk
y
retr
o
dance
move
s
tha
t
brough
t
the
m
bac
k
i
n
time
.
No
,
no
,
no
.
This wa
s
a
sho
w
o
f
al
l
show
s
an
d
the
y
wer
e
shakin
g
their money-maker
s
a
s
sexil
y
a
s
the
y
could
,
eve
n
i
f
Kin
g
Kong
wa
s
stil
l
stuc
k
i
n
a
n
eightie
s
tim
e
warp
.