ISBN: 9780778305422
Publication
Date:
Publisher:
MIRA
18.99
US | 23.99 CAN
When Maggie's best
friend admits he's in love with her, she'll have to decide whether it's worth
giving up something good for something that could be amazing in this
laugh-out-loud friends-to-lovers rom-com.
After a bad breakup, Maggie wants to find her Prince
Charming, but all she’s finding are frogs. When her best friends, Savvy and
Joan, apply pressure and demand she find a date worthy of attending their
respective weddings, she agrees to take her own advice and try online dating.
Since she's the maid of honor for both weddings, her bridal party duties are
massive, but both brides insist that Maggie prioritize finding a date. After an
onslaught of maybes, noes and hell noes, she’s close to giving up, when she
meets a handsome doctor at the gym who just might be the one.
Meanwhile, her college bestie, Garrett, throws salt in
everyone’s game. At every turn, he points out the red flags and tells Maggie to
keep looking. Things come to a head when Maggie demands that Garrett be happy
for her, and he finally admits that he can’t. Not when he’s not with her. When
he blurts out his feelings, Maggie’s world is turned upside down. Now she must
choose between the perfect guy and a friendship that is the foundation for
everything she’s ever wanted.
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Excerpt from The Good Ones Are Taken by Taj McCoy. Copyright © 2024 byTaj McCoy. Published by MIRA.
HER EYES LOCKED WITH ANOTHER PAIR ON THE OTHER side of the bar—deep brown eyes framed with black, curly lashes and bookended with laugh lines. Maggie’s heart flopped in her chest as she inhaled a breath, almost willing the scent of his cologne to travel the fifteen feet to where she sat. He looks like he smells good.
The man looked back
at her, eyeing her intently. His long locs were pulled back into a messy bun,
random tendrils reaching toward his bearded jawline—a lone streak of silver to
one side of his manicured chin. His full lips spread into a wide smile bright
enough for a toothpaste ad, and he raised two fingers in the air before
beckoning her over. He jutted his thumb toward a booth behind him where the
table was set with a bottle of champagne on ice and two empty flutes.
Maggie’s eyebrows
shot up, and she pointed at herself. “Me?” she mouthed.
His smile widened and
he bit his lip as he nodded slowly. The carnal look in his eyes spread warmth
to her belly.
She swiveled her bar
stool to the side, a moment from stepping down and crossing the room before she
caught a glimpse of the woman standing directly behind her. Late twenties,
svelte and a dress that hugged every curve of a Coke-bottle figure. She had deep
dimples, and her honey-blond goddess locs were pulled up and away from her
face, showing off her sparkling green eyes and fluttering lashes. The woman
strode to the other side of the bar confidently in stiletto sandals tied just
below muscular calves. The sexy, loc’d-up couple embraced tightly, kissing
twice before they slid into the booth and poured themselves some bubbles. They
snuggled close as he raised his glass to toast the occasion, his beautiful date
beaming as they clinked their glasses together and tenderly locked lips.
Damn. Strike one.
Maggie turned back to
face the bar, sipping the final dregs of her cocktail before running her
fingers over her glass of water. The ice had melted and the glass was slick
with condensation. With the pad of her finger, she drew a figure eight before
dabbing it on a cocktail napkin. She opened her mouth to ask the bartender,
Matt, for her check when someone spoke behind her.
“Anyone sitting
here?” The rich baritone voice sent a delicious shiver down the back of her
neck.
Maggie peeked coyly
over her shoulder, her right brow arching slightly as her eyes swept over the
tall specimen behind her. The man wore a tailored black suit with a loosened
silk tie and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His easy smile widened
as she regarded him. “Seat’s all yours,” she responded slowly, her voice a
sultry whisper as she swept a loose coil behind her ear. She turned back toward
the counter, sending an amused wink in the direction of the bartender.
“Thanks.” He slid
onto the bar stool and unfastened his tie, tucking it into his jacket pocket.
Matt nodded a
greeting. “Hey, man, looks like you could use a drink. What can I get you?”
“Yeah, let me get a
Maker’s Mark old-fashioned, and another drink for the lady.” The handsome
stranger tilted his head in Maggie’s direction, turning to observe her. His
salt and-pepper fade contoured down to a closely cut beard; a few grays
speckled the sections framing his mouth.
Matt nodded and set
to making the drinks.
Maggie eyed the man
next to her, notes of spiced oud and sandalwood invading her senses from his
cologne. “Thank you.”
“What you drinkin’?”
He crossed his arms, setting his elbows on the bar. He leaned toward her
slightly, pointing to her empty cocktail glass.
“A filthy gin
martini, extra olives.” She accepted a fresh glass from Matt and took a slow
sip, savoring the briny liquid. Her heel crooked over the stool’s footrest, she
flexed her foot and then pointed her toe, her feet still sore from enduring a
long day of meetings. She’d braved the day in her favorite Cole Haan pumps,
mistakenly deciding that she didn’t need to carry her customary pair of flats
in her laptop tote. Never again.
“Long day?” She eyed
him curiously, the stem of her martini glass between her index and middle
fingers, her palm flat against its cool foot. Slowly, she swirled the contents
of her drink, her shoulders finally beginning to relax, courtesy of Tanqueray.
He nodded. “You could
say that. Divorce mediations. You?”
“Tax attorney, and
it’s nearing April.” Maggie sipped slowly, willing the gin not to take hold of
her too quickly. “I’m sorry about your marriage.”
His brow lifted. “How
did you know the settlement was mine? I could be the attorney.”
She pursed her lips,
considering that statement before shrugging a shoulder. “You could, but your
thumb keeps rubbing against the space between your middle and ring finger, like
you’re missing something.”
The bartender slid
over a glass tumbler filled with an oversize ice cube, amber liquid and an
orange peel. The man took a big gulp before jutting his chin upward in thanks.
“I guess as an attorney, you know all the tells.”
Her face softened
slightly. “Not all of them, but I’ve seen enough to know it’s not going well.”
She regarded him out of the corner of her eye for a moment. “Sorry.”
His shoulders slumped
a little. “Not your fault. All mine, really.” He took another gulp, almost
finishing off his drink, gazing at her in her cream pantsuit and camel pumps.
He leaned a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “This may be forward
of me, but you are a very beautiful woman. Would you maybe want to get out of
here?” He raised his eyebrows as he pressed his lips together.
Maggie’s eyes widened
as she sputtered, almost choking on her cocktail. “Damn, you just go straight
for ass, huh?”
Shocked, he laughed
awkwardly. “Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about what I was saying until
after it came out of my mouth. Please don’t be offended. I just— My eyes were
immediately drawn to you when I walked in and, honestly, I’ve been out of the
game for a long time.” He put a hand to his chest as he apologized, frustration
furrowing his brows.
Maggie tilted her
head as she employed the poker face she used with her clients, her gaze moving
back and forth between her drink and the bartender, who had frozen at the
proposition. “Well, I appreciate the compliment and the drink, but I’m going to
have to pass. I’m not really the type to bust it open when I don’t know your
name, we’re not dating and you’re still married. That’s a lot to ask of a
stranger.” She shook her head, chronicling this proposition among the many
things she intended to share with her girlfriends over dinner. Who does that?
The man pressed his
lips together and nodded, chuckling. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. My wife and
I, we’ve been living separate lives for a long time, though I can understand
why it still sounds fresh. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Maggie smiled down at
her drink and flipped her wrist at him. “All good, and thanks for the drink.
Honestly, I’m still getting over my own breakup, so I wouldn’t make great
company tonight.”
The man turned his
entire body to face her, his knee bumping the outside of her thigh. “Do you
want to talk about it? I’m obviously not a relationship expert, but I can
listen.”
Sweet Jesus, that was not an invitation. She
shook her head slowly, her lips pressed together in a tight smile that didn’t
reach her eyes. “Not tonight, but thank you.”
It had been a few
months since Rob left, and the sting of his betrayal still burned right below
the surface of Maggie’s skin. She thought they were getting close to moving in
together, but he had already set his sights on someone else. Now she wanted nothing
more than to junk punch him in front of his new girl. Too embarrassed by the
fact that he chose someone else, she preferred to brood over a cocktail rather
than air out her hurt, even though her eyes had opened to the potential for
someone new. Just not this guy. Being
in the midst of divorce proceedings didn’t exactly signal emotional
availability. Now, if only he would take a hint.
The door opened, and a couple of women breezed
toward a high-top table in dark corporate suits, their identical bobs parting
bone-straight hair with recent highlights. Maggie’s neighbor perked up, and she
prayed silently for his departure.
“Will you excuse me?
I think I recognize someone,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the
newcomers.
“Of course. Thanks
again.” Maggie raised her glass and watched with amusement as he moved quickly
across the room and greeted the pair, neither of whom seemed to recognize him.
That didn’t stop him from planting himself at their table, oblivious to the panicked
look on their faces. Maggie winked at Matt, who rested his hands on the bar, an
easy smile spreading across his face. “That was…a lot!” She rested her chin in
her hand, shaking her head as she laughed.
He whistled in
agreement. “One more for the road, Mags? On me. You deserve it after—” he
gestured around chaotically “—whatever that was.”
She grinned. “You
know what, Matt? I think that I’m going to save myself from strike three and
head on home. Can you cash me out?” She handed money to him to cover her drink
and tip.
“You got it.” He
moved over to a digital register—a tablet connected to a cash till and a
printer. “Thanks, Mags. See you next week?”
“Uh-huh.” Maggie’s
eyes were drawn across the bar to the-booth-that-could-have-been: the loc’d
couple entwined and oblivious to the world around them. Their lips and hands
were in constant movement, connecting fervently, and when they broke apart to
breathe, the intensity of their gazes told everyone in the room what time it
was. These two were going to ravish each other, probably before they even made
it home. Their kisses made Maggie ache low in her stomach.
I want that.
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