Chapter One “C’mon, girl, don’t be hatin’. Just gimme your digits. I promise you won’t regret it.” Miranda Breslin slammed a bottle of Coors on the counter and flashed a polite smile at the very young, very cocky guy who’d been hitting on her for the past twenty minutes. “Sorry, not interested,” she shouted over the techno beat blaring out of the club’s speakers. Her persistent suitor rested his elbows on the counter and leaned in close. “Aw, don’t be like that, girl.” Thanks to the seizure-inducing strobe lights zigging and zagging from every direction, she could only make out bits and pieces of the guy’s appearance—African-American, shaved head, impressive body. But great abs aside, the guy couldn’t have been a day older than twenty-one, and his vocabulary was abysmal. Her six-year-old twins spoke more eloquently than this dude. “Enjoy the rest of your night,” she said. And then she promptly extricated herself from the situation, untying her short black apron as she moved away. She was due for a break, but when she saw the crowd gathered at the other end of the counter, she stifled a groan. Alex, the other bartender on duty, clearly had his hands full with a group of inebriated women decked out in shiny clubbing outfits. When he noticed her retying her apron, he gave a firm shake of the head.