New Orleans

By Cat Johnson

When I agreed to be my best friend’s maid of honor, I thought it would be fun. Maybe I’d even meet a nice, single guy at the reception. But now the bride is missing, I have the hang over from hell and it seems I may have accidentally had sex with the groom last night while pretending to be a stripper to spy on him at his bachelor party... Or maybe I didn’t.

It’s hard to tell since I can’t remember much past drinking that last Hurricane on Bourbon Street. There’s also this matter of the groom’s identical twin brother and the fact they have a habit of switching places.

I do know one thing, nothing is what it seems in New Orleans. Anything can happen...and it usually does.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cat Johnson
• Release date: Jun 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476134048

Cat Johnson

New York Times & USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author Cat Johnson. Sign up at catjohnson.net/news to get new release and sale alerts.

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NEW ORLEANS

Cat Johnson

Copyright © 2012 by CAT JOHNSON

All Rights Reserved

SMASHWORDS EDITION

License Statement

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chapter

CHAPTER 1: The Morning After

It happened in stages. First came just a tiny glimmer of consciousness. That’s when I realized I was awake, but not much else. I knew this was the good part, because things would only go downhill from here.

I, Rose Thayer, was good and hung over. Perhaps I was still drunk. Who could tell for sure? Certainly not me in my state. The problem was, I didn’t remember drinking enough to make me feel like this. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember much of anything at all.

Either way, things weren’t good. That realization hit when I started to feel things. My mouth and throat seemed as dry as a bag of cotton balls. Unfortunately, since I’d graduated from college only a couple of years ago, this sensation wasn’t at all new to me. I’d suffered through the morning after in the past.

Yes, I’d been down this road before. I knew that should I attempt to move to get and then drink the water I craved, I’d be sorry because next would come the headache. Pain equivalent to having a screwdriver stabbed into my brain. The headache from hell would sometimes be accompanied by dizziness, which was always joined by nausea—reason number two I wasn’t about to risk drinking anything.

So instead I stayed right where I was, not quite playing dead but sure doing a good imitation. I breathed nice and slow, shallow so I wouldn’t jar anything or anger the hangover gods. Maybe I’d fall back to sleep. That would be good. Riding out the rest of this hangover in an unconscious state seemed like a pretty damned good idea to me right now.

But as always happens, I started to think.

What had I done last night? It must have been a pretty kick ass time that landed me in this predicament this morning. Another thought tickled my consciousness—where was I, how had I gotten here and who else was here with me? Okay, perhaps those should have been my first thoughts, but I was running a bit slow in the brain department so I decided to give myself a pass.

I steeled my nerves for both the pain and the possible shock and cracked one eyelid partially open. A smoke detector blinked merrily next to a sprinkler head on the ceiling above me. Okay, good sign. It seemed as if I’d actually made it back to the hotel. I wiggled a fingertip and felt the telltale scratch of a polyester bedspread beneath my nail. Definitely hotel grade bedding.

I began to piece together the shattered remnants of my memory. I was in New Orleans. I’d flown in yesterday for my best friend from college’s wedding this weekend. Last night had been her bachelorette party—which explained a lot of my condition now.

I managed to lift my head enough to glance down at my bottom half and not vomit. One look at the jeans and heels I still wore indicated I’d passed out in my clothes on top of the covers. Fine with me. I was happy to be here at all. Though did my purse and wallet arrive with me or would I be calling to cancel my credit card when I could finally get vertical?

As the acid backed up my throat and added to the already foul taste in my mouth, I realized right now I couldn’t care less if my credit card were winging its way around