Chastity (Chase) Morganâs fairytale dreams of everything perfectâcareer, wedding, marriage, and familyâall go by the wayside when her fiancĂ© dumps her for someone else. The thirty-year-old virgin decides to take a trip on the wild side, so to speak, when Roxie, her partner-in-crime cousin, encourages her to get out of her nerdy comfort zone and dive into the world of dating ⊠Roxie-style. It doesnât help that a nine-year-old psychic relays more information than she can handle. Between the madness and the metaphysical, what unfolds in more bizarre than anything Chase could ever imagine.
Chastity (Chase) Morganâs fairytale dreams of everything perfectâcareer, wedding, marriage, and familyâall go by the wayside when her fiancĂ© dumps her for someone else. The thirty-year-old virgin decides to take a trip on the wild side, so to speak, when Roxie, her partner-in-crime cousin, encourages her to get out of her nerdy comfort zone and dive into the world of dating ⊠Roxie-style. It doesnât help that a nine-year-old psychic relays more information than she can handle. Between the madness and the metaphysical, what unfolds in more bizarre than anything Chase could ever imagine.
âWhat theâ?â I jerk the steering wheel, making a turn off of highway 75 heading up the little knoll. A condo complex lines one side of the road while a sledding hill dominates the other side. A snow plow passes me, splashing muck on the drivers-side window and windshield. I roll my window down and back up to give it a quick clean while gunning the accelerator a little harder, still keeping my eyes on my target.
I can see a shadow of someone in the passenger seat. Where did he pick up thisâŠgirl? Iâm so angry now that I canât see straight. Slamming my foot even harder on the accelerator, my SUV growls through the snowânot the day to be speeding in near whiteout conditions. I canât get close enough to see if itâs his cheesy license plate BU2TFUL, but then again, how many atomic red Jeep Wranglers are out there with âArchitects Know All the Anglesâ tattooed on the spare tire cover? Right?
My heartâs pounding as I grip the steering wheel.
âWhat is going on, Grant? Everything was falling into placeâyou, me, our future. Until now,â I blurt out. I want to think that Iâm reaching himâŠtelepathically, trusting that the course I took on quantum mechanics a few years ago is finally coming in handy.
HmmâŠ, no answer. Maybe Iâm not focusing hard enough.
My concentration is thrown off with images, flashing rapidly through my mindâimages Iâve had since I was a kidâtop female structural engineer in LA, a perfect architect husband, and the sweetest steel beam-and-glass home perched in the Hollywood hills with a view all the way to the Santa Monica ocean.
âDammit, Chase, focus!â It takes me a bit, but I manage to clear my head as we both speed down the other side of the knoll. âYou had better not ruin my plans, Grant Stevens, because I guarantee that Iâll throw a shitload in yourâAargh!â
Shrieking, I slam on the brakes at an intersection, as a group of bundled-up sledders dart in front of my car. On cue, they give me a deer-in-the-headlights look, waving their saucers in my direction; my car skids on the ice and comes to a shuddering halt on the two-way road, which now looks like a tunnel. Snow is piled high on either side, pressed against the wooden fences of the adjacent homes. Iâve lost sight of the jeep. I can barely see two feet in front of me. I muster up a wan smile, waving an apology to the pedestrians, clumping to safety, some mouthing out a string of merited expletives.
âYeah, youâre right! Iâm such a jerk. Iâd do the same thing if I were in yourâŠsleds.â My moment of penitence. I doubt they can hear me.
Setting the four-wheel-drive button to high again before shifting into drive, and this time with a death grip on the steering wheel, I shoot through the narrow yet multicolored Idaho roadway, passing by the Sun Valley Lodge. My heart sinks for a moment as I notice the white Christmas lights that bedeck the iconic hotel and every inch of the property, from the trees and the lampposts to the fences, and even the ice rink lit like a torchlight are nothing but a blur of color in this dreadful weather. I looked forward to seeing all this every year our family went to visit Aunt Kate, who is actually not my real aunt but my momâs best friend. Her holiday shindigs are nothing but the best. Ironically, Aunt Kate has her act together compared to the rest of my crazy family. In a way, she is like the calm amid a storm.
There are bright red taillights in front of me. âAh-ha, I got him!â I let out gleefully, making a fast turn onto a familiar road just before Dollar Mountain; the snow cats the only beacon of light in this winter nightmare. Itâs a wide berth lane providing enough room to fishtail, even though my SUV clips a few snow-laden evergreen branches. A gust of wind throws a pile of snow on the windshield, obscuring my vision. I plow into something. The SUV skids. I jerk the steering wheel hard; ice and slush push their way into the wheel wells, creating a harsh grating sound.
âAhh!â I yelp. The car begins spinning like the Disneyland Tea Cup ride before coming to an abrupt halt, smacking into a wide snow-covered area. Fortunately, I donât have to contend with other cars behind me. âPhew! Thank God!â I utter even though I have no idea what to expect of the exterior damage. My relief is momentary. In my peripheral vision, I spy something heading in my direction. Reflexively, my gloved hands shield my face as I brace for impact from an airborne snowman tray filled with two-dozen frosted cupcakes. Thereâs a small thud and then silence. Taking a quick peek to my right, I assume the interior damage isnât too severe, considering the snowman tray has made a perfect landing on the passenger seat.
Wrong!
The cupcakes I slaved over earlier today in our rented condo have taken on a different formâa surrealistic one, to be exact. Crumbs are EVERYWHERE. Random patterns of frosting and remaining batter have not only landed on the front of my shirt, but also on the floor, the windows, andâjust in time for the holidaysâa dripping-off-the-rearview-mirror version.
âHmmmâŠ, I imagine Picasso would be proud,â my lame attempt at humor. With everything happening so fast, I donât know whether I should laugh or cry. My logical mind tells me that the best I can do is to focus on the rent-a-car and not my dadâs booming voice when he sees the damage.
âOkay, time to get this baby out of here.â Trying to bolster my confidence, I put the car in reverse and rev the engine. The tiresâ spinning action only sinks the SUV deeper into the snow, mud splattering the back and sides to the top of the windows.
Letting out a huge sigh, I unbuckle the seatbelt and direct my attention toward the only thing left in my control: the windshield wipers. Not so. The swishing movement of the blades and the hypnotic snowfall catches my attention. I can feel myself getting sucked into a catatonic state. A persistent tapping on my window breaks my brief reverie. After everything that Iâve been through in the last hour, I half-expect a stodgy police officer to be on the other side, ready to hand me a hefty ticket. Itâs not. Recognition sets in after blinking a few times.
âChase? Is that you? Unlock the door!â I hear Grantâs voice; heâs in a panic, pulling like crazy at the handle. I sink in my seat. My gloved hands come to the rescue, covering my face a second time.
âAre you okay? Say something,â heâs yelling.
He opens the door, eyes wide. He brushes a lock of his blond hair away from his tropical-ocean-surf eyes as I barely make out Aunt Kateâs old, dark green Victorian-style mansion between the rhythmic wipers. The only house of its kind, with its three stories and ornate leaded-glass windows, it towers over the other well-kept homes on her street. It makes perfect sense, considering that the street used to be the entrance to the worldâs first sing-chair lift on Proctor Mountain back in 1936. I shake the historical trivia once my eyes pan the gorgeous outdoor decorations. Itâs like a winter wonderland all over again; twinkling lights tastefully sprinkle the small pines flanking the front door and the long walkway that leads to her mini-parking lot, equipped with a three-car garage.
Well, whaddayaknow? I guess I made it to Aunt Kateâs Christmas party after all.
âChase!â
Sarcasm quickly sets in once I remember why the hell I was madly racing through a blizzard. âWho else do you expect, one of Santaâs elves working overtime? Of course, itâs me. Whoâs that girl in your car, by the way?â I say all in one breath, glaring at him as I crane my neck to meet his six-foot-six stature.
FREEZEâŠ
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You see, a month ago, Grant, my fiancé of the last six months, sent me a text:
Grant:Â Sorry, Chase, Iâm taking a pause.
Me:Â What does that even meanâa pause?
No response.
Me:Â Youâre pausing to test the field?
Again, no response. My patience grows thin.
Me: Weâre over?
Grant, you are getting on my last nerve!
Me:Â Are you ghosting me?
Why donât you answer me?
Me:Â You cannot ghost me!
Undoubtedly, I was in a state of denial while he followed through with his new agenda.
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â *
âThereâs no girl in my car, Chase.â Grant gives me that look like Iâve just gone loco. No, HE'S the one whoâs gone loco. I canât bring myself to speak up. Another person walks out and pushes himself in front of Grant. He puts his perfect face up to mine, producing a dazzling smile. Iâm instantaneously mesmerized.
Crumbs cover the front of my white sweater and leggings. I brush a piece of frosting off my nose before I turn my legs and attempt to exit the car gracefully.
âSo, I finally get to meet the famous Chastity Morgan,â says Perfect Face, grabbing my hand and helping me out of the car. âYouâre the person Iâll never be able to live up to. I donât know whether to bow, curtsy, or kill myself, but come here!â He leans his five-foot-eleven frame into me. âGive me a hug!â
I mutely let him hug me since I canât seem to find my voice.
âIâm Brody!â He says into my neck.
Heâs gorgeous, and Iâm not exaggerating; a runway-modelâperfect-ten beautifulâwith penetrating gray-blue eyes, porcelain white skin, and dark black hair. Brody wraps his ravishing arms around me, and even through his puffy down jacket I can feel his ripped Adonis muscles.
âYouâre gorgeous!â I canât help but stare at his pouty lips, so close to mine. âDid I say that out loud? Oops!â
Brody laughs. âThanks!â
Grant is pouring over me as Brody continues. âWhy donât we go inside, warm up, and enjoy the party while we wait for someone to pull your car out of the snow-covered flower bed. Whoops! From the looks of it, I think you plowed into Kateâs vegetable garden.â He points towards the smashed up wooden tomato posts sticking out from underneath the hood of my SUV before turning back towards Grant, âCould you please grab our tray of cookies from the back seat?â
Our tray? My brain is in a jumble. Did Perfect Face say that, or did I hear things?
âWait! Whoâs âwe,â Grant? And what happened to the girl in your car?â I repeat staring at his jeep wrangler and expecting someone to magically pop out of it at this very moment. âThere was a girl in your car, right? And whoâs this guy? Your cousin, maybe?â My mind is desperately trying to put two-and-two together as I look at the handsome duo.
âLike he said, Chase, there was no girl in the car. Just me and Boo.â Brody glances over at Grant for approval, only to notice that heâs frozen in place. âAhâŠ, you didnât tell her, did you, Grant?â
âMe and Boo? W-Who are you?â Iâm really confused.
Grant looks miserable. His blue eyes wildly pan the immediate area, as if preparing to make a quick getaway. The snowâs falling in big sticky snowflakes, blanketing the cars packed tightly into the driveway. Heâs not going anywhere anytime soon.
No oneâs responding, so I keep rambling in the hope that someone will tell me what the hell is going on. âWhere have you been for the last month? Iâve been calling you every day. We need to finalize the menu, pick our songââ
He takes a deep breath and lets out one solitary word: âVegas.â
My vivid imagination conjures up a scene where Grant and Brody are in a nightclub. Club lightsilluminate the dance floor where a bunch of women surrounds the boys in a mosh pit of flesh. Iâm standing in a far corner of a room. I spot Grant, looking back at me through a mountain of cleavage. He gives me the two-thumbs-up sign. A giant-sized bouncer comes up behind me and slaps my ass, snapping me out of the horrific image.
âDid your new friend Brody take you to a skanky nightclub and set you up with a bunch of women? Is that where youâve been the last month? Is it?â I step in closer, snow crunching underfoot in my clunky wilderness boots.
Grantâs eyes flicker to the ground as he kicks around the fresh powder, lost in thought.
âWhat? What is it?â I throw up my hands. âIs there more? Did you cheat on me, too? OH. MY. GOD. You did, didnât you? Did you pick up some weird untreatable disease on top of that?â I scream, tugging on my âsecurity blanket,â a pink-and-blue scarf, which is wrapped around my neck.
âBrodyâs the most incredible person Iâve ever met,â he continues, putting an arm around the gorgeous hunk. âWe met on a wakeboarding trip to Lake Havasu. We decided to go to the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas andâŠâ
âWHAT?????? Youâre not making any sense, Grant.â Iâm in a tizzy. Fiddling around with my hands, I pull off my gloves and stick them in and out of my coat pockets. My movements capture the light from the car headlights, striking the Tiffany ring on my left hand at the exact angle to create a stunning spectrum against Grantâs form-fitting leather jacket. The brilliant rainbow performance is cut short when I grab the ring and start twisting it furiously.
Grant offers no comment on my display. Instead, he keeps to his impromptu script. âOur ceremonyââ
âCeremony?â I cut in. âWait! What did you say? Ceremony? What about our wedding?â Iâm on the verge of tears, but I will myself not to cry.
My mind suddenly flashes to another imaginary scene with Grant and Brody standing hand-in-hand on the cliffs of Laguna Beach, the turquoise ocean shimmering below. Iâm in my princess-cut Vera Wang dress, standing next to Grant with a bouquet of pale pink roses in one hand and the wedding rings in the other. Grant starts to recite his vows, âI take you to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to holdââ I let out a scream: âSTOP.â But no matter how much I scream, my attempts to stop the ceremony are futile. My constant shrieking snaps me back to reality. I feel heat rising on my face.
âChase, where did you go?â Grantâs hand is on my shoulder.
âDONâT TOUCH ME, YOU, YOUâŠâ Liar, marriage wrecker. I canât even wrap my head around an appropriate word as I jump out of his grip.
Looking beyond Grant and Brody, I notice movement at Aunt Kateâs bay window; guests are pulling back the curtains and gawking at the crazed outdoor scene.
In a moment of clarity, everything begins to congeal.
âYou, slimy bastard! I. SAVED. MY. VIRGINITY. FOR. YOU!!!!â Screeching now at the top of my lungs, I feel as though Iâve morphed into the White Witch. âTRAITORS!â Did I say that out loud? Both Grant and Brody appear frozen in place. The terrorized look on their faces with hair standing on end are sure indications that I have successfully turned them into stone statues.
âChase,â Roxie giggles, âwhat are you guys all doing out here?â Sheâs oblivious to the outside drama, standing there at the main entrance on Aunt Kateâs wraparound porch with her hands on her hips in her sexy âMrs. Clausâ getupâred dress with white trim, red stockings, furry white boots, and a hat to match with a big jingling silver bell at the tip. âCome on inside so we can get this party started!â
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â *
Now some would call the two of us twinsâtallâboth 5â 11â, slender, and athletic with icy blue eyes. In the looks department, our resemblance is uncanny, except for the fact that Roxie is a brunette and voluptuous. Iâm a blonde and average in that department, which is fine by me because Roxie can never find the perfect bra that will keep everything intact.
It makes sense we would look-alike since her father Mason and my dad are identical twins. They were inseparable growing up: attending the same college, roommates. When it was time to marry, they bought houses across the street from each other. The brotherly closeness trickled down to us girls; it was inevitableâfate evenâthat Roxie and I would becomeâŠwellâŠ, bosom buddies.
Two years after Roxie was born, her motherâmessed up, depression perhapsâran away. While I have my anxieties, Roxie, who grew up without her biological mother, has abandonment issues, choosing to play the part of the âbad girlâ at times. Itâs more complex since she and Uncle Mason have unresolved issues, such as never wanting to discuss the big ones, like why her mom left. Fortunately, Roxie gained a âmomâ when my mother âadoptedâ her as a second daughter.
All that said, besides looking alike, Roxie is the total opposite of me, especially when dealing with the flirtation game. She can seriously enrapture any man she wants with just the crook of her finger; I swear. Roxie may drive me nuts at times, but the bottom line is that weâre inseparable. Sheâs my wild, life-of-the-party, partner-in-crime cousin.
*Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â *
âChase, Roxieâs right. Letâs go inside so we can get this party started. How about we try this again and be grown up about this?â Grant reaches out to hug me again.
âDONâT TOUCH ME!â I scream a second time. Before he can lay a finger on me, I push him away, but he recoils, throwing me off balance. Before I know whatâs happening, Iâm slipping, arms flailing like a first-time ice skater. âAhhh!â
Roxie charges down the steps through the snow.
I can hear Charlie singing âAmerican Girlâ before I hit the ground.
Some may want to dismiss this book as chick lit and romance genre. But this book is much more than romance. It is a deep dive into relationships from two POV's. The protagonist Chastity âChaseâ Morgan is a smart, funny, tightly-wound, 30-year-old modern woman who is like your own girlfriend, one you like to spend time with. She has only dreamed of three things in her life : being a top engineer, falling in love with the man perfectly meant for her, and having a fairy tale wedding followed by marriage. She even saves her virginity for the one. She already is a top engineer and was meant to fulfill her last two dreams, having found her fiance Grant. But not all is as rosy as it looks. Grant announces breakup and later marries someone else though he still wants to be 'Best friends" with her. Here enters Roxie, Chaseâs cousin and closest friend. Unlike Chase, Roxie does not share any romantic illusions about life. She is rather practical and is the one who gives Chase the needed push to come back to track. . She challenges Chase with a set of resolutions, including: âTravel the worldâŠ; Meet a bunch of hot guys; Have a lot of sex; If youâre fortunate enough, fall in love.â
This marks the beginning of a journey of self-discovery and self validation with its emotional highs and lows . The pace at which the author has set the story never lets your interest drop. The conversations Chase has in her mind, her inner monologue are at best quirky and at times leaves reader thinking, didn't I also think the same. Further reading gets us to meet Chaseâs aberrant and loving parents; her martini-toddling grandmother; the psychic ten-year old next door; the mean girls from high school who still hound herâand other eccentric characters. The narrative style is witty, smart, and often the humorous dialogue and dynamic action will keep the readers always on edge. You never know what to expect and can'y see any of it coming your way.
Though Chase does not make wise decisions, as readers you will cheer for her due to her conviction and belief. Many a times reader would find themselves identifying with her and her inner turmoil. Except for the first four chapters which seem hurried and incomplete at times, as too much happens in them. It becomes difficult to comprehend all the events and character together. The rest of the book spans our well.
I received an ARC of the book in exchange of honest review of the book. My views are not influenced by author, and are unbiased.