Title: Unfashionable Diva
Author: Mia Augustine
Genre: Contemporary International Billionaire Romance
Book Blurb:
A night to remember...or not. Naturally, when Gina Bove wakes up in bed next to a stranger she is totally freaked out. Especially since she can’t remember a thing from the night before. She has no idea who the man next to her is and how she ended up in this precarious position. Anthony Locatelli spent the past decade wondering what happened to the horribly attired woman he’d saved from a nefarious fate ten years earlier. But when his father threatens Anthony’s livelihood, he turns to a specialized matchmaking service for assistance and learns exactly what happened to his mystery bedmate.
Excerpt:
Anthony Locatelli nursed the Grey Goose and soda, garnished with lime, his eyes fastened on the atrociously attired, blonde beauty standing less than ten feet away. God, she was something with all that hair that streamed down her back almost to her waist. He just couldn’t figure out who’d dressed her.
Anthony’s family was Locatelli International, Inc. A huge fashion conglomerate out of Milan. New York’s semi-annual fashion season was underway with one day left out of nine of meetings with buyers, press, and shows. Anthony wasn’t one of the designers. His specialty was peacekeeping between the creatives. A challenging feat if ever there was one.
He’d been in the business his whole life. He knew decent fashion, even had an eye for color, and Blondie was not wearing it. No one, absolutely no one wore magenta and red together. And those shoes of carnation for god’s sake. He blinked several times to make certain he wasn’t hallucinating their actual color based on the flashing blue, pink, and purple lights from a packed dance floor.
The guy she’d been talking to ten minutes ago had disappeared. She sipped at a hi-ball and looked to be by herself. The wristlet she wore on her left hand fell to the floor. She bent down to grab it, but then followed it down, landing in a seated position in that short red skirt. In the right position, he’d have had an eyeful. Anyone would have. He’d been watching her a while. She was shitfaced.
The guy who’d been there a second ago edged back in Anthony’s peripheral vision. He wore a fashionable scruff on his face. His jeans were perfectly faded and his button-down oxford shirt changed color with the dance floors lights. Rage flashed through Anthony. The bastard was biding his time. He had likely planned this particular scenario.
No one rushed to Blondie’s aid. The whole scene left a bad taste in his mouth.
The guy took a step in her direction. Without much time, Anthony put his little league moves into motion, going on his knees and sliding home. “Come on, love.” He came to his feet then took her arm to help her up. She was too out of it to stand on her own, and he didn’t dare let her go. “Who are you here with, sweetheart?”
She slurred something he didn’t understand. Still, no one hurried over.
Anthony glanced up to see the sleezy guy slinking away. He scooped up her wristlet—a cheap Coach knockoff—and put it back on her wrist so it wouldn’t get misplaced. He texted his driver to meet him out front and, with much effort, got her out the door.
Once in the car, he opened her purse and found her identification: Gina K. Bove. Age, 21. Address: Bloomington, SD. Well, that wasn’t helpful.
He hit the intercom button for the front of the car. “Marcello, head back to the Waldorf.” It was the safest place for now. He had a large suite and, though only one room, he’d be able to monitor her for any ill-effects of whatever it was she’d ingested.
Heading through midtown, it took fifteen minutes to reach his hotel with the theater traffic having just let out. Anthony carried her in and, luckily, didn’t run into any of his family where he’d be forced to give any awkward explanations. He got Ms. Bove to his third-floor room without further incident.
Once there, and in the light, he could see how glaringly bad the colors she wore. But that was neither here nor there. He put her on the bed, praying she didn’t get sick. Though he didn’t hold out much hope for himself with that magenta shirt she wore blasting him.
After calling room service for coffee and lots of sugar, he got a dampened a cloth from the bathroom and washed her face. “How much did you have to drink, sweetheart?”
She didn’t answer, but he hadn’t expected her to. She opened glazed, navy-colored eyes, blinking slowly. The sight mesmerized him momentarily. His hand froze. He stared at those full lips, her dainty nose, the long, lush lashes. She really was exquisite. The magenta was all wrong for her skin tone.
But nothing could mar her crowning glory—her hair.
“My friends?” she whispered.
The words jarred him. He brushed the strands from her forehead and, unable to help himself, trailed his fingers over the softness of her cheek. “Your friends?”
But her eyes had closed again. Her face went slack, and drool slipped from the side of her mouth.
A small grin touched him. Great art required flaws to acquire brilliance-status. He whipped the offending shirt over her head, revealing a barely-there corset that did much more for her skin tone than the magenta and dabbed the drool from her mouth.
Groaning, he dropped the shirt and tugged the sheet up to shield her from view.
Room service arrived, and he traded her drool-soaked shirt for the coffee. “Have it laundered,” he said.
He doctored a cup for her and did his best to get a little down her. His experience with drunks spanned only to himself, and that had been in college. Mostly, he’d learned sleeping it off was the best remedy. But he kept picturing that dude hovering about, watching her.
By the time he sat down from all his efforts, he was breathing hard, and not from exertion. He worked out regularly after all. There was no pulling the argyle over his eyes. Blondie was hot, but completely out of it.
If he slept on the sofa, he might not hear her if she needed something. What if she needed medical attention? He studied the situation, then decided he would lay on the other side of the bed, atop the covers.
He went back to the bed, making certain the covers were tucked securely about her. Shucking his own shirt, he tossed it on end of the bed but decided to have a nightcap to celebrate his evening’s good works. For her sake, he kept his briefs on rather than sleeping nude as was his custom.
He mixed up a vodka soda without the lime from his minibar and saluted his unexpected guest. “Here’s to your good health, love.”
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What makes your featured book a must-read?
This international fashion mogul billionaire is left with no clue as to what happened to the young woman he’d saved from a dire fate ten years before, but fate leads him to her doorstep. Now, he just needs to grab on and keep his grip.
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Author Biography:
Mia Augustine (aka Kathy L Wheeler) loves rainy days, hot chocolate, her dog, and movies with happy endings. Her contemporary stories are edgy, passionate, sometimes dark, but always compelling.
Social Media Links:
Instagram: https://instagram.com/miaaugustineauthor