Chapter One

"Verdict?" Selma Herrington asked as she tilted her head to better display her newest tattoo to Elena Anderson. A recent addition to the waitstaff at The Fix on Sixth, Elena also happened to be the owner's daughter. More importantly, over the last few months, Selma and Elena had bonded over a mutual love of whiskey, flea markets, and romance novels.

At ten in the morning, The Fix hadn't yet opened, and it was just the two of them in the cavernous bar. Later, at lunchtime, the place would start to fill, and when the evening rolled around, it would be jam-packed with all the customers who'd come to watch this week's Man of the Month contest for Mr. August. Selma knew that Elena's father, Tyree, and his three partners had started the contest as a way to draw interest to the bar and increase revenue. And though Selma didn't know the details, considering how packed the bar was on alternate Wednesdays--and how many new faces she saw every time she walked through the doors--she was certain the plan was working spectacularly.

So far, she'd only seen two of the Man of the Month contests, but she was determined to come tonight because she'd heard from her brother Matthew that one of their high school friends, Landon Ware, was entered. A cop, Landon didn't seem the type to reveal his abs on a stage, and Selma couldn't help but wonder if something else was going on. Recently, when she'd been in the back talking to Tyree about his order for two more cases of bourbon, she'd noticed Landon with Taylor, a regular who also acted as the show's stage manager. Maybe she'd find a moment to catch up with him before tonight's contest.

Right now, Selma stood at the long, polished oak bar beside Elena, who was rolling silverware into napkins. She added another roll to the pile, then focused more intently on Selma's shoulder. "Oh, that's nice," she said, her voice rich with genuine approval. She used a finger to pull the strap of Selma's black Free-Tail Bat Bourbon logo tank top to the side to better reveal the pattern of retro-style starbursts that exploded over Selma's pale skin. "This is what? Your seventh tat? When did you get it done?"

"Eighth," Selma said, running her fingers through her dark, choppy-cut hair that she'd recently tipped with cobalt blue. "And a couple of days ago."

"Catalyst?" Elena asked with an impish grin, her chocolate-brown eyes dancing with merriment. A tall black woman with pixie-style hair, perfect skin, and high cheekbones, Elena was stunning enough to be a model. And, in fact, Selma was trying to convince Elena to do a photo shoot for Selma, so that she could use the images in an upcoming Bat Bourbon ad campaign geared toward women.

Or she had been trying to convince Elena. Since Selma was on the verge of selling Austin Free-Tail Distillery so that she could dive into other adventures, the challenge of advertising her small-batch whiskeys was soon going to be someone else's problem.

Still, Elena would look damn good on a billboard fronting IH-35.

"Selma?"

Frowning, Selma pushed the random thoughts from her head. "Sorry. Mind wandering. What were you asking me?"

"What prompted the starburst tats?" Considering the relatively short time they'd known each other, Selma and Elena had grown incredibly close--at least by Selma's regimented definition of closeness. Close enough that Selma had confided that all her tats had been impulse ink--though Selma had never gone far enough to share the impetus behind those impulses. Not a single one was planned, and as far as Selma was concerned, none ever would be.

Tags: J. Kenner Man of the Month Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net