January 6th~ Release day ~ Another Mazzy Monday

Title: Another Mazzy Monday

Series: Tawnee Mountain #1

Author: Savannah Young and Sierra Avalon

Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance

Release Date: January 6, 2015

When the wealthy and charming Drew Graham walks into the Tawnee Mountain Resort where I work and offers me a lucrative part-time job it sounds too good to be true. I just have to pretend to be his fiancée until he wins the election for Governor and then we can go our separate ways. It seems like an easy way to make a hundred thousand dollars…until his brother, Austin, returns from Europe and moves in with us. And I’m completely overwhelmed by my attraction to my fake fiancé’s rebellious younger brother.

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Another Mazzy Monday

Excerpt

My brother hasn’t changed very much since I

left for Europe. He’s just a little more

of everything. Cocky, charismatic, and quite charming. Give him an audience, no

matter how small, and he’ll captivate them within minutes.

Not that I haven’t been accused of being

cocky myself. Okay, maybe I’ve been called an asshole on more than a few

occasions. But charming I am not. My brother is great at telling people exactly

what they want to hear. It’s a skill that will serve him very well in politics.

I’m more of a say-what’s-on-my-mind kind of guy. I’m always straightforward and

honest. I tell people what I think they need to hear even if they don’t want to

hear it.

“Austin Graham,” my big brother says when

he finally spots me. He excuses himself from the small group of would-be

campaign donors and heads in my direction. “The rebel without a cause returns

to the roost.”

To my surprise my brother grabs me into a

hug. I reflexively look around the ballroom to see if there are any photographers

snapping shots of us. That’s the only reason I could see Drew giving me such a

warm greeting. We didn’t exactly part on the friendliest of terms when I left

the country.

“I take it Dad summoned you back to the

States to help with the campaign.”

“Help

is really a strong word. I get the impression I’m needed for publicity photos.

He says he wants to show the press that our family is strong and united. You

are running a family values campaign, aren’t you?”

My brother glares at me. Then after a few

moments of being at the center of his arctic stare he says, “Nice suit.”

“It should be. You probably paid top dollar

for it.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

“Suits and I don’t really get along.”

“I guess that means Dad hasn’t talked you

into getting a real job yet.”

“I’ve had plenty of real jobs all over Europe. Everything from milking cows to fixing

motorcycles. Whatever odd jobs people had in exchange for a hot meal and a warm

bed.”

Drew shakes his head. “Sometimes it’s

difficult for me to believe we’re products of the same two parents.”

“You were there when I was born,” I remind

him.

“And you were stubborn and willful from the

moment you took your first breath. Some things never change.”

“I need a drink,” I announce. Drew, always

being the perfect politician and everything his constituents want him to be

wrapped in a picture-perfect package, rarely drinks anything but water and

orange juice. I, on the other hand, imbibe on a regular basis.

“Maybe stick with one,” he suggests. “Nurse

it for a while.”

“Yes, Sir,” I give him a cheesy little fake

salute.

As I approach the bar I see a gorgeous

little blonde serving small cups of wine to several middle-aged women wearing

matching conservative navy blue suits and single strands of white pearls around

their necks. They all have their hair cut short and look like they’ll be

absolutely no fun even with a little wine in them.

Once the women of the blue suit brigade

have cups of wine in their hands they make their way over to my brother. As I

wait for the bartender to acknowledge me I’m a little hurt that she doesn’t

even glance up at me when she asks me what I want. Then I remember I’m wearing

one of my brother’s stuffy suits and that I probably look just like another one

of the conservative jackasses at the fundraising event.

This girl looks like someone who prefers a

more down-to-Earth kind of guy. If I had on my everyday attire: leather jacket,

well-worn jeans and black biker boots, I think I’d get her attention in a

heartbeat.

“Beer,” I say, trying to will the blonde to

at least glance at me once. But to no avail. She’s all business, serving drinks

then taking the next person’s order.

“We’ve got Miller, Bud, and Coors.”

“Miller.”

She nods and fills up one of the small cups

with beer. It’s not even the size of a Dixie cup. Maybe half as large. “Got

anything bigger than that?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry. It’s

complimentary. You can have as many as you like.”

I hold up the ridiculously small cup. It

would probably take about ten of these before I even felt a buzz. “Thanks.”

She nods, but she’s only half paying

attention to me. When I glance down at her name tag I see her name is Mazzy.

Unusual name. I’m completely intrigued. Not just because she’s beautiful with a

smoking hot body to match, but there’s something about her that’s different.

Most girls fall all over themselves to get

my attention when they figure out who my family is. Being from a wealthy and

well-connected family is like an aphrodisiac for most women. I look down to

make sure I’m still wearing my name tag and it’s definitely there. This girl

just hasn’t even bothered to take a look at it. 

Two guys are now standing behind me so I

know I have to let her serve them, but I don’t want to move from this spot. I

just want to look at her for a few seconds more. I like watching the way she

moves. She seems so carefree and comfortable in her body. As carefree as I like

to pretend to be I know I’m really just a mass of insecurities and compensative

tactics.

“Anything else?” she asks.

Your

number

, I want to say, but what’s the point. I don’t plan on being in New

Jersey any longer than I have to. I promised my dad I’d stay through the

election and that’s it. Then my backpack and I are off to Asia.

I take my ridiculous little cup of beer and

head off in search of someone I might find even remotely interesting to talk

to.

As luck would have it I run into my mother

and her league of women voters. They’re all wearing the same conservative blue

suits as the blue suit brigade who were ordering wine in front of me at the bar

and they each have a tiny American flag displayed prominently on their lapels.

As soon as my mother spots me a look of disgust overtakes her face. She can’t

seem to control it whenever she sees me and I’m not sure she wants to. She’s

even less thrilled with me than my father and she usually has no trouble

expressing that displeasure to me. My only saving grace is that I know she

won’t rail at me in front of her supporters. She’s much too shrewd for that.

She’ll do her best to pretend I’m the perfect son in front of potential donors

and wait to condemn me in private.

I’m so glad I’ll be staying at the lake

house. My mother won’t consider venturing out to Northern New Jersey this late

in the season. When it’s less than seventy degrees she has no interest in the

lake house.

“Austin,” my mother says as she approaches

and places a quick peck on my cheek. “So glad you could make it.”

The other women in her small group are all

smiling and eyeballing me, even though they’re all my mother’s age or older.

I down the rest of my beer and stare into

the empty cup. “I think I need a refill.”

My mother expresses her displeasure with a

harrumph, but then quickly replaces her grimace with a broad smile. Hers isn’t

as rehearsed as my father’s or brother’s, but it’s equally phony.

“When you come back, Mrs. Lexington has an

opening in her firm that might be of interest to you and she’s already said

she’d love to talk to you about it.”

“Great,” I lie as I loosen my tie. I’m

already feeling trapped and the stupid material around my neck isn’t helping

matters any. I can’t even remember the last time I wore a tie.

As I hurry back towards the bar I’m glad to

see that Mazzy doesn’t have any other customers. She’s all mine, at least for a

few minutes.

I order two beers and down them both

double-fisted. When I look up I imagine that Mazzy will have a look of horror

on her face, but all I see is puzzlement. As if she’s looking at a creature

from a brand new species.

By the time I order my fourth miniature

beer I have just enough liquid courage to actually start a conversation with

her. It’s not that I generally have a hard time conversing with women. On the

contrary, I’m generally quite smooth with the opposite sex. But I feel

different in this monkey suit and a political fundraiser is definitely not my

native habitat. I’m used to picking up women at dive bars or neighborhood pubs.

The more relaxed and casual the atmosphere the better.

There’s absolutely nothing relaxed or

casual about my present circumstances. But at least the beers have taken the

edge off. 

“Mazzy is an unusual name,” I say as she

hands me my beer.

She just gives me a polite nod in return.

“Do you live around here?” As soon as the

words leave my lips I realize it’s a ridiculous question. I’m sure she doesn’t

commute very far for a job as a bartender.

“I’ve lived in Old Town my whole life.” Her

clipped tone leads me to believe that she has little interest in talking to me.

Not that I blame her. If I ran into me in this setting wearing this suit I

wouldn’t want to talk to me either.

“Know of any good bars around here.” I hold

up the small cup. “These tiny cups aren’t really doing it for me.”

That remark elicits the tiniest of smiles.

At least it’s a start.

“Try Haymakers. It’s the only bar in Old

Town. Do you like country music?”

I shrug. “I’m more of a rock-and-roll kind

of guy.”

“Haymakers is definitely a country bar. I

used to work there.”

“Maybe I’ll check it out.” I’ll be staying

at my family’s lake house, which isn’t too far from Old Town. I’m sure I’ll go

stir crazy after a while and will need some kind of escape. “Thanks for the

recommendation.”

“If you tell them that Mazzy sent you they

might even give you a free beer.”

“Free is good.” I give her my sexiest

smile, but it doesn’t seem to make much of an impact. I realize that maybe

she’s just being nice so I’ll give her a good tip. I reach into my pocket, pull

out a five dollar bill and add it to the mostly singles lining the tip jar.

“Thanks,” she says and when she finally

looks me in the eye I feel a little flash of something. I’m not quite sure what

it is, but my entire body reacts to it. I put my beer on the end of the bar for

a moment and put my hands in my pockets in an effort to lower the flag that’s

starting to rise in my pants.

“Haymakers,” I repeat. “I’m definitely

going to check it out.”

“Only bar in town. You can’t miss it.”

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Karen Mueller Bryson writes under four pen names. This is her first novel co-written by two of them.

Savannah Young's stories take place in fictional Old Town, which is very much like the rural Northwest New Jersey town in which she grew up. She is the author of the four-book Wilde brother's Old Town Country Romance series.

Sierra Avalon's stories have a little sass and lots of spice. She is the author of Always Rayne, which is the first book in the Always, Sometimes, Never series.

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