Do something I shouldn’t.”Įlliot leaned his elbows back on the bar so he was facing the dance floor and said, “Why don’t you get out there and let someone do you instead? You look gorgeous tonight, darling.” Luckily, Elliot was there to prop him up. “Don’t care,” Robbie said, as he waved his hand through the air with flourish and leaned a little too much into the action. “If you celebrate any more, you aren’t gonna remember your first night out of the New Year.” Tonight’s mine, and I want to celebrate.” “Who cares? Everyone had their New Year’s on Sunday. Robbie held up two, then three fingers, and shrugged. “What’s that? Your third shot? And how many margaritas did you have at dinner?” “You’re so wasted, Bianchi,” Elliot said as he grabbed Robbie’s arm and guided him to the barstool. It was making him think really stupid thoughts.

The hum and throb of the bass beat was rattling through him, but instead of feeling the pull he usually did to head out to the dance floor and have fun, tonight it seemed to be having the opposite effect. But forgetting his lonely life with alcohol and men who were all wrong for him seemed like an increasingly good way to cope tonight.

The conversation he was having with himself wasn’t a new one- or a welcome one, he thought as he swayed on his feet and kind of stumbled into the stool beside him. That was the thought rolling around Robbie’s muddled brain as he stood with his best friend Elliot at the bar of CRUSH and tossed back his fourth Bitter Bitch. But drunk-dialing a married man? That is a monumentally stupid move. If there’s a bad decision to make, I will make it.ĭRUNK-DIALING IS never a smart move. If there was a bad decision to be made, Robbie always had a knack for making it.Īnd thus begins the story of the priest, the princess, and the prick. Just ask his crazy sisters or any of his friends, and they’d be the first to tell you: No excuse, except for his lonely heart, a pitcher of margaritas, four Bitter Bitches, and the apparent need to confess all his weaknesses to the two men he knew would bring him nothing but trouble. Otherwise, he really had no excuse for what-or who-he’d done. That’s what Robert Antonio Bianchi was telling himself, anyway. Love ever-changing.Īnd when it comes to rules of the heart, they were made to be broken…

Check out this fantastic book, read the Excerpt, Wendy’s Review,

Robbie by ella frank