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Here’s a little sample of the first story from Reunion Flirts!  This is story #1, Second Chances.  I’m shooting for a February 14th release.  Enjoy!

“Second Chances”

             Brandi Parkman pounded her beer bottle on the bar like a gavel.  “Here, here, the first meeting of the Jefferson High tenth reunion committee is now in order.”

The three other women surrounding her held their drinks up in a cheer.

Then Chelsea Hallman frowned. “Remind me again why we aren’t just setting this up on the internet?”

Brandi jabbed a finger into Chelsea’s arm.  “Because, this way I can poke you in person, not just on facebook.  When’s the last time we’ve seen each other? We can make a party out of it.”

Chelsea shifted on the barstool, wondering if they’d forgive her if she made a desperate dash for the door.  Probably not. She set her elbow on the bar and slouched. “I never would’ve run for class secretary had I known all of us in student government would be planning class reunions for the rest of our lives.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to it?” Cathy Blake asked.  “Don’t you want to see everyone?”

Oh, Chelsea wanted to see everyone, all right.  Everyone but one person:  Tripp McCall. She forced a smile.  “Of course I want to see everyone.  But I’m not even sure I can come.  I think we have a family reunion that weekend.”

Brandi gave Chelsea a look.  “How could that be? We haven’t even settled on a weekend yet.”

“I just mean, chances are it will fall on the same weekend.”  Chelsea downed the rest of her drink.  Bottom line, if Tripp McCall was coming, she wasn’t.  But there was a very good chance Tripp would be too busy running his empire to make it to their rinky-dink reunion.

“Speaking of dates, we can put up a poll on our facebook reunion page and let classmates vote on the best weekend,” Brandi said.  “And we’ll let everyone decide where to have it, and give them three locations to choose from.”

“Then the real work begins, picking the menu, the band—” Cathy said.

Alyssa White laughed.  “We won’t be able to afford a band.  We have to keep ticket prices down, the way the economy is. Fifty-fifty raffles only go so far. We’ll just get someone to put together a mix on their ipod.”

Brandi waved a dismissive hand.  “That’s all logistical stuff that’ll take care of itself.  The key to a good reunion is getting the right people there.  We need to create a list of must-come alumni.  And I know who’s top on the list—Tripp McCall.”

Chelsea bit her tongue.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Brandi, he’s not going to come back to Boston. He’s running like, a gajillion dollar company.  Isn’t he dating a model?  That’s gotta keep him busy, all the sex they’re probably having on tropical islands.”

Chelsea stifled a groan.

“No, I read that they broke up,” Brandi said.  “He’s single.  We could probably get every girl in the class to come if they know Tripp will be there.”

“He was class clown,” Cathy said.  “How in the hell did he turn out so successful?  I wonder if he has a secret twin.”  She tapped a finger on her chin, thoughtfully.

“He doesn’t have a twin,” Chelsea said.  She’d spent enough time at his house to know if they’d been hiding a savant brother in the basement.

“Oh, yeah.  You two went out, didn’t you?”  Brandi asked, looping her hands around her knees.  “You dumped him, right?”

How wonderful to still have a frenemy after all these years. They all knew the whole story by heart.  No one needed a rehash, but everyone was watching Chelsea expectantly.  The only thing worse than not having a multi-millionaire boyfriend was having had him—and lost him.  That’s a tale people wanted to hear again and again. Who wouldn’t feel better about their own sorry life after hearing that?  Chelsea tried to sound chipper.  “Ten months.  It wasn’t really serious.”

“Still, imagine if you’d stayed together,” Brandi said, looking up at the ceiling dreamily.  “You’d probably be on his private jet to go shopping in Dubai right now, or polishing your gems. Someone would probably be massaging you.”  Brandi nodded.  “I’m sure you’d have your own personal masseuse.”  She ran her finger down the condensation of her beer bottle.  “Of course, I had him first.  He kissed me in second grade.”