THE BAR NEXT DOOR IS HERE AND READY TO PARTAYYYYY! My seventh (!!!) novel is finally LIVE, and I couldn't be happier to get to share the story with you. Everything I write lately is filled with far too many exclamation points and a heavy use of caps lock, but I DON'T EVEN CARE because this book DESERVES IT!
Monroe and Julien's story is everything I love about romantic comedy. It's got humor, heat, heart, sass, and steam. It features just enough angst to hit you in the feels and the perfect amount of swoony moments to sweep you off your feet. I fell head over heels for Monroe and Julien, and I hope you will too! I can't wait for you to meet them.
There's a lot going on here on the Katia Rose blog this week to celebrate, so I made a handy dandy little schedule to keep track of it all:
Which brings us to the item on today's agenda: a sneak peek! Here's an exclusive look at an excerpt from The Bar Next Door.
(Psssst...Don't forget to grab your copy here!)
I’ve never been on a date where I didn’t half-expect the guy to show up in sweatpants. I planned on heading downtown straight from Taverne Toulouse before I realized meeting Julien in leggings and a turtleneck might not be the most desirable course of action. I then sent him a very stupid and embarrassing text in which I asked what he was wearing, but even after warning him that we wouldn’t be spending the evening in formal attire, I couldn’t shake the sudden onset of insecurity. This prompted a mad dash to my apartment and the frantic emptying of all my drawers before I realized my spring wardrobe consists of almost nothing but leggings.
I have only one friend who could work a fashion miracle with such limited resources. I suppose DeeDee could manage something too, but she’d probably just throw a tank top and some daisy dukes at me and tell me freezing my ass off is worth it if I look hot.
So I phoned Roxanne.
“I’ve never seen you so flustered before,” Roxy gushes as she pats me on the head. “It’s ben cute.”
“You’re not helping me feel better.”
She switches tactics. “Your ass looks amazing in those pants. Where are you meeting this guy?”
“Frango Tango.”
“You’re wearing this to Frango Tango? You’re going to knock him dead.”
My coat nearly slips out of my hands as horror takes hold of me. “Is it too fancy? I told you not to make me too fancy! I told you I wanted to look casually intriguing. You know, like, ‘maybe I trimmed my bush for this, maybe I didn’t’ kind of intriguing.”
“Did you trim your bush for this?”
I stay quiet for just a little too long.
“Ooh la la, someone’s getting laid tonight!”
“We are not having sex!” I protest. “Shaving is just part of my special occasion grooming routine, okay?”
“Right. I’m sure you shave your pubes for Christmas morning and your nephew’s birthday too.”
I lift my chin up in the air. “Maybe I do.”
“That would be so creepy. Now get your ass out the door. You look the exact right amount of fancy, and Frenchman is going to be on you like a magnet.”
“We’re not having sex,” I insist as I finally pull my coat on and Roxanne follows suit. It’s warm enough out that I can ditch my arctic explorer boots and go for some more fashionable—but equally functional—Blundstones instead. “I’m only going on this date because he has something he wants to tell me about the bar and refuses to tell me any other way.”
“I see,” Roxanne drawls in a way that suggests she ‘sees’ something else entirely.
