Title: Last Chance, The Chances Trilogy Book Three
Author: Martha O’Sullivan
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Book Blurb:
What better day than Valentine’s Day to ignite a long-smoldering friends to lovers romance?
Last Chance is the final installment in Martha O’Sullivan's Chances Trilogy. In Second Chance, star-crossed lovers Lindsay Foster and Brian Rembrandt get another chance at love amid the postcard-worthy backdrop of Lake Tahoe. In Chance Encounter, Delaney Richards and Mike Savoy’s quest for love takes them from Tahoe’s placid waters to the capricious streets of San Francisco. And in Last Chance, even the frigid temperatures of the snowcapped Sierra are no match for the long-bridled passion between friends turned lovers Moira Brody and Paul Webster. All of them will risk their hearts, and their lives, to find true love.
Excerpt:
He should have gotten her roses. But he didn’t. Because she’s Moira. Effortlessly beautiful, eternally grounded, perpetually good-natured Moira. And tonight she was something else. Incredibly sexy. In tight-fitting jeans and a low-cut top. With her dark, silky, begging to be touched curls skimming her shoulders. And she smelled pretty good too. Like a spring morning infused with lilacs. All for the guy begging for roses at the flower shop. For whom he had a last-minute arrangement thrown together. From his cuttings. For his girl. On Valentine’s Day. Paul huffed out a harried breath. Is that what she was? Apparently not. But he sure as hell wanted her to be. He slammed on the brakes and slid into the precarious U-turn.
It took Paul twice as long as usual to get back to Reno with the slick roads. Turning the corner onto Moira’s street, he heaved a half-hearted sigh of relief when he saw no car in the driveway and a hodgepodge of lights burning inside. She was home. Alone. Unless they came in one car, he prepared himself through gritted teeth.
Paul could see her profile through the slats of the plantation shutters as he made his way to the front door. She was in the kitchen fussing with something, still dressed up like she hadn’t been home long. Had her date seen her home or had they parted ways at the office? Gone somewhere for a drink after dinner? Made another date? He looked on as Moira stepped back from the island, arms across her chest, and appraised her work. As she reached for the towel over her shoulder and dried her hands, she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. She did a double take, then held his gaze momentarily before walking toward the door.
She greeted him in a wobbly voice, “Hey.” Her emerald green eyes were soulful and clung to his as if unwittingly attached. Her full lips were naked now and Paul told himself it was from eating. The coal-black tendrils had fallen, the errant strands framing her fair face. Also from natural causes, he told himself.
“Hey. Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she invited, ushering him in.
Stepping inside, Paul rapid-fired, “I’m glad you’re home. I wanted to—”
“Where else would I be at eleven o’clock at night?”
“I don’t know.” His mind was suddenly a mare’s nest and his palms were beginning to sweat. “I wasn’t sure what your plans were for the rest of the evening.”
“I’ve been home for almost an hour,” she informed him evenly.
“Alone?” His eyes scanned the living room.
“It was just dinner, Paul.”
“About that, I came by to apologize.” He wondered if she sensed the relief in his voice. “I shouldn’t have assumed we’d see each other tonight. And I certainly shouldn’t have assumed you’d be,” he bit off the last word, “available.” He looked away then, into the kitchen, and saw what she’d been doing. Arranging flowers. His flowers.
She must have acquired clairvoyant powers in those few seconds, because her tone softened and she said, “I had to bring them home. They're too beautiful to waste.”
With four long strides he advanced into the kitchen and glanced around. “Where are the roses?”
She followed him. “At the office.”
“They’re not too beautiful to waste?” he asked, turning to face her.
“No, they are.” Her breath hitched. “They’re just not from you.”
Her eyes were filling behind their thick lashes and she was biting her bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears. Paul couldn’t have stopped himself from going to her if he’d wanted to. “Moira, what are we doing?” he pleaded, gripping her forearms. “What have I done? Have I lost you?”
She shook her head from side to side and the tears began to fall, leaving sooty tracks on her cheeks. Tipping his head back in silent gratitude, Paul gathered her in his arms. She instantly moved into his body, sniffling through sawed-off breaths.
“Tell me nothing happened. Tell me there’s nothing between you and him.”
She answered by burrowing her head into his shoulder and wreathing his middle. He felt her breathing level and he kissed the top of her head. She smelled like a subtle version of earlier, infused with wine and garlic. Hope replaced the trepidation in his stomach and he heard himself say, “I had to force myself not to go back there. I’ve been driving around for hours, going crazy.”
She angled out of his grasp just enough to make eye contact. Suddenly she was the girl he used to know again, not the woman tying his insides into knots. Or maybe the perfect combination of both. Her eyes began to shine and a satisfied smile curved her lips. “You have?”
“Yeah. Like outside my mind crazy.” He laid his lips on hers and tasted the salt from her tears. She melted into the kiss, then the next. He wondered if she could sense him growing behind the zipper. Or the spool of want unwinding into a thousand frazzled threads in his gut. Gasping for air, he released her mouth and cupped her face in his hands. “You make me crazy, Moira Brody. Absolutely crazy.”
Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. “Then I like you crazy.”
Resting his forehead on hers, he let the night roll off his back like sweat. “Do I need to fight for you, Moira?”
“Well, Jason did bring flowers, dinner, wine.”
Paul felt his expression fall. “Did he kiss you good night?”
“He did,” Moira preened.
Paul couldn’t believe how much that bothered him. “Did you want him to?”
Her face instantly sobered. “No. I wanted you to come back.”
“I did.” As if he’d had any choice in the matter. Paul drew her to him again and ran his hands up and down her back. “I had to.”
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
Last Chance (digital) is on sale for .99 in celebration of Valentine’s Day.
What’s your favorite part about being a romance author?
Bringing the characters dancing around in my head to life and writing happy endings.
Here’s my tip to add romance to your love life:
Do impromptu things-dinner out, a weekend away for no reason, a last-minute movie or concert.
Giveaway –
One lucky reader will win a $75 Amazon gift card
Open internationally.
Runs February 1 – 29, 2024
Drawing will be held on March 1, 2024.
Author Biography:
Martha O'Sullivan has loved reading romance novels for as long as she can remember. Writing her own books is the realization of a lifelong dream. She is a graduate of Illinois State University where she wrote for the school newspaper and was a member of Zeta Tau Alpha. She is also a former Acquisitions Editor at MacMillan Computer Publishing. Martha writes contemporary romances with male/female couples and happy endings. Her Chances Trilogy—Second Chance, Chance Encounter and Last Chance—and standalone novel, Christmas in Tahoe, are available in print and digital formats at online retailers everywhere. Her new book, Sierra Fall, will be released in October 2024. A native Chicagoan, she lives her own happy ending in Florida with her husband and daughters.
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