Book Blast. Jazzy by Quanie Miller #giveaway


Jazzy secretly wants to get back together with her ex boyfriend, Curtis, so when he calls and reveals that he’s got something important to tell her, she’s got no idea that he’s about to propose—to her first cousin and bitter rival, Mercedes.

 The annual family dinner is coming up, and fearing that she will spend the evening seething while Mercedes flaunts her four-carat engagement ring in her face, Jazzy asks Reggie, an Adonis she met at the mall, to accompany her. As fate would have it, not only did Reggie and Mercedes used to date; that backstabbing, leopard print wearing cow is still carrying a torch for him! Revenge. It has never been so sweet. 

 But falling for Reggie? Holy crap! That wasn’t part of the plan! She has enough on her plate as it is with a mother who spies on the neighbors and a sister and best friend with men problems that could land them on Jerry Springer. 
So when Curtis comes sniffing around again—this time, with an accusation that sends her blood pressure shooting through the roof—the one good nerve that Jazzy’s got left has just about run its course. 

 Goodreads | Amazon | B&N

Quanie Miller grew up in New Iberia, Louisiana. 

 

She fell in love with reading at an early age and spent most of her time at the Iberia Parish Library discovering new authors like R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike (she was often found walking back home from the library with a stack of books that went up to her chin). 

 

She holds degrees from Louisiana State University and San Jose State University. She has been the recipient of the James Phelan Literary Award, the Louis King Thore Scholarship, the BEA Student Scriptwriting Award, and the Vicki Hudson Emerging Writing Prize. 
She loves writing humorous stories about strong willed, sassy women who can’t keep themselves out of trouble. She lives in Charleston, South Carolina with her husband and is currently, as always, working on another novel. 
To find out more about Quanie and her works in progress visit quanietalkswriting.com.

 


I parked on the street and realized that my palms were sweaty, so I wiped them on the seat and took three deep breaths. When I got out of the car, I tried to remain calm, but by the time, I reached the door, the butterflies in my stomach had turned into bats. I knocked. A few seconds later Curtis answered, and I stood there, shocked. 

He looked so damn good I had to stop myself from taking a flying leap and wrapping both my legs around his waist.
He had a beard (he was always clean-shaven when we were together) and was actually dressed….well….nicely! He was wearing a white button down shirt with khakis instead of those blue jogging pants with the yellow paint stains and the white muscle shirt with the holes in it. And for once, he smelled like he hadn’t bought his cologne from some guy in a beanie on a street corner. 

He even had the nerve to look like he’d been hitting the weight room, which shocked me because the whole time we were together, the only exercise this man got was running from bill collectors. Before I knew it, I felt a tingle in the part of my body that’s off limits to everyone except my gynecologist. Then, I got pissed. How dare he open the door looking like a chocolate wet dream? I, the dragon slayer, did not get slayed. I did the slaying. I regained my composure.

“How are you, Curtis?
“Fine, Jazzy. You look good.”
I wanted to say, “Chile, this girdle is cuttin’ off my circulation like you wouldn’t believe.” But instead, I smiled and said, “Thank you. So do you.” We walked inside the beautiful foyer and, as always, the winding staircase took my breath away. I followed Curtis into the living room and immediately noticed that it had been remodeled. The carpet had been replaced with hardwood floors, the walls painted a deep red, thick curtains were draped over heavy rods, an oil painting hung over the mantel piece, and a glass coffee table stood between two full-length leather sofas. I was so busy marveling at the decorating that it took me a while before I noticed the atmosphere in the room: cake, balloons, and all the children doing cartwheels. For a second, I thought I heard some of the kids singing, “Ding dong the wicked witch is dead.” 

The adults seemed happy (but maybe the cocktails had something to do with that), and no one, except for me, was wearing black. It didn’t seem like a re-pass  It seemed more like a celebration.

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  1. My favorite book is Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson. Thank you for the giveaway 🙂

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