Welcome to my stop on the Blog Tour for Martinis and Memories by A.L. Michael! I'm thrilled to bring you an exclusive extract from Chapter One! It's also my Birthday today, so let's have a drink together! Cheers!!
What They Say:
A fun, feisty novel of love and chasing your dreams .
Bel Hailstone has spent the past decade building her dream - Soho’s best burlesque club - from the ground up. But now The Martini Club is under threat and it will take everything in Bel’s power to resist encroaching developers and save her pride and joy.
Amidst the chaos Bel’s past comes knocking with the unexpected arrivals of her still-not-quite-ex-husband, her estranged mother and Brodie Porter - the boy who got away all those years ago.
To keep her beloved club afloat – not to mention her sanity - Bel will have to accept help for the first time in a long time, put the past to rest and claim the happy ever after she once thought was lost for good.
Author Bio:
A. L. Michael is the author of 13 novels. Almost all of them are snarky love stories where difficult women learn to embrace vulnerability. Andi works as a content writer, so no matter what she’s doing, she’s all about the words. She has a BA in English Literature, an MA in Creative Business and an MSc in Creative Writing. She is represented by Hayley Steed at Madeleine Milburn.
Book Spotlight:
Title: Martinis and Memories
Author Name: A.L. Michael
Previous Books (Cocktails and Dreams and Prosecco and Promises
Genre: Women’s Fiction, Romance
Release Date: 13th August 2018
Publisher: Canelo
Chapter One
‘Really, Miss Hailstone, it’s a very decent offer.’
I looked up at the slick-haired suit trying to talk business. If only I’d had a cigarette, that would have been perfect. A dimly lit room, blowing smoke into his face. It was a shame I’d quit years ago.
The Suit sat across from me in the back office of the Martini Club, looking out of place. God, he’d walked in with such swagger. Well, I’d knock that out of him soon enough.
‘It’s Ms.’
The banker tutted with impatience, ‘A thousand apologies, Ms Hailstone. But—’
I interrupted, ‘What was your name again?’
A twitch of annoyance. Good. I traced my fingertips over my desk, the shards of gold within the black granite catching the light. Everything was perfectly organized, right down to the crystal skull paperweight and the ceremonial dagger letter opener. I watched him as I flittered my fingers along it, before moving on to the paperwork he’d brought with him. Making ‘important’ men nervous was honestly one of my favourite pastimes.
‘Stewart.’
‘Right, Stewart. A thousand apologies.’ I smirked, standing up. He stood up too, almost automatically. Poor little sheep. But I wasn’t taking prisoners.
‘The thing is, Stewart, this place is my home. And nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to make me sell it. I’m sorry, darling, but there really is no question. So thank you for coming and everything, but I’d really appreciate it if you fucked the fuck off, all right?’
I gave him my smoothest smile, and kept it there as he stormed out. I didn’t stop smiling until the bastard was down the hall and I heard him push through the double doors into the dining room, where one of the girls would make sure he didn’t hang around.
I’d been fending off his type for months now. Trying to come up with new, exciting ways to tell them to sod off was, frankly, exhausting. And the bills piled up, and the banking needed doing, and still they came.
I took a brief moment to lean against the wall. I was tired. I had fought tooth and nail for this place, built it up, seen the possibility in the decrepit cesspit the building had been before I arrived. Such a huge space, infinite potential. And it had sold poorly filmed porn with ridiculous titles to old men in long coats.
But I made it into this. The Martini Club.
I pushed the double doors through to the main room, feeling them swing heavily behind me. Every door allowed for a dramatic entrance, I’d designed them that way. I loved to push them and stride in, Arabella Hailstone, club owner, belle extraordinaire.
I traced my fingertips over the marbled bar top, assessed the state of the drinks behind the bar. I loved it when it was like this – empty. The lights were on, and the sound echoed, and the girls would come and practise whilst Jacques did stock take and I did the accounts.
But even when we were open, it was quieter than it should have been, and those accounts were starting to take less and less time to do. Rates were going up, and Londoners weren’t spending any more. Either everyone was getting uncomfortably prudish, or no one had any money.
I hadn’t mentioned the issues to the staff, but it was clear enough to see, especially the ones who have been here with me from almost the beginning. The applause, whilst enthusiastic, comes from a few dedicated stalwarts, and I feel like I have to give them a round of free drinks and lavish attention on them, to keep them coming back.
On those days I feel a little like a whore. But sometimes, it seems, that’s what business is.
‘Bel?’ The new bar girl, Aria, blinked at me. She was a little bit scared of me, which they all are at the beginning. I liked it. Just a little. Made me feel powerful.
‘Yes, darling?’
‘There’s another man in the lobby, saying he wants to speak to you.’ She tried for a smile, and I noticed her lipstick was off, and her eyeliner was smudged on one side. I’d better get one of the other girls to give her a hand on the presentation side. But for now, she was decent enough behind the bar, though God knew how long I’d be able to keep her.
‘Another suit, darling?’
Did they have some sort of alarm, these scummy corporate types? Was my building sending off a twat signal to every dickhead in the area who thought he could offer me below value for my business, and I’d fall to my knees in gratitude?
‘Not a suit. Seemed official though. Asked for the owner, and gave your name.’
‘All right, I’ll see to him. I’ll be back in five minutes – make a Martini for me, darling. I need to check your cocktail skills are up to scratch.’
I tried to hide a smile at the deer-in-headlights response. Savvy was like that at the beginning too, so meek and proper. She shrugged that off soon enough. You see enough people shake their boobs about onstage each night, you start to take life a little less seriously. And Aria was too tightly wound for my club.
That said, right now, so was I.
I could see the man’s outline through the slices of rose-tinted glass in the door. At least he’d waited outside. So many of them had barged in like they already owned the place. If this carried on, I could see myself, dressed in my finest black lace, holding a shotgun, facing the door. A burlesque Annie Oakley determined to defend her land.
And that was probably why I never made it as a burlesque performer – my concepts were always off.
He stood facing away from me, and beyond the fact that he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, just a white shirt, creased across the back, and black trousers, I couldn’t tell anything about him. He didn’t seem like a corporate type. His dark brown hair was oddly short, and just before he turned around, I realized that I should have recognized him from the way he held himself.
He turned and grinned at me. Same cocky grin. Same scar through his eyebrow, and that dimple below his bottom lip from when he’d had a piercing. Hands in his pockets and shoulders in a perpetual shrug, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
This was not okay. This could ruin everything.
Fuck.
‘Euan… what are you doing here?’ I tried to make my voice strong, not let him know I was surprised.
Not let him know I had dreaded this moment from the minute I ran, all those years ago.
I couldn’t think of an excuse, of a reason, of some way out of all of this. He was here, in my business, in my world.
Just when you thought London was sprawling enough to lose yourself in, your past popped up to see you.
‘What am I doing here?’ Euan laughed, shaking his head. ‘That’s nice, Bel, really nice. What, a man can’t come to see his wife?’
What I Say:
This was my first book by A.L. Michael and it won't be my last.
The story of Bel and the Martini Club is powerful! There's intrigue, romance, comedy, alcohol, burlesque and plenty of drama. What's not to love?!
Arabella Hailstone is a powerhouse of a woman who has worked so hard to get where she is, the owner of MC and a woman not to be messed with. She enjoys the finer things in life and she tells it like it is. But something is missing and a week full of coincidences helps her to see past the fierce exterior she has created for herself and begin to see what's missing and learn who she really is.
I really enjoyed this book and shall be off to get the rest of the series! 9/10
The story of Bel and the Martini Club is powerful! There's intrigue, romance, comedy, alcohol, burlesque and plenty of drama. What's not to love?!
Arabella Hailstone is a powerhouse of a woman who has worked so hard to get where she is, the owner of MC and a woman not to be messed with. She enjoys the finer things in life and she tells it like it is. But something is missing and a week full of coincidences helps her to see past the fierce exterior she has created for herself and begin to see what's missing and learn who she really is.
I really enjoyed this book and shall be off to get the rest of the series! 9/10
Thanks to Ellie Pilcher at Canelo for sending me an advanced E-copy of this book in exchange for my honest review and participation in the blog tour!
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