
Fate keeps throwing Jack and Maisie together, reminding them of how good they are together
Getting Lucky, an all-new must read standalone romantic comedy in the irresistible Asheville Brewery Series by New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank and A.R. Casella is available now!

One night. Just one night.
Or at least thatâs what Maisie tells herself when she brings Jack Durand home. Because even though his arms are a thing of beauty and he can charm wild animals (a huge turn-on for an animal lover like her), sheâs in no position to start anything with anyone. So she pretends sheâs just scratching an itch.
Jack is pretending too. His little sister is moving to Asheville as his ward, and between getting her through her senior year of high school and working at the family brewery, he doesnât have time for a girlfriend. Even a sexy, no-nonsense powerhouse like Maisie.
But he canât stop thinking about her, and it turns out he doesnât have to. Her best friend, River, announces his engagement to Jackâs half-sister, Georgie, andâsurprise!âtheyâre both in the wedding party.
Fate keeps throwing Jack and Maisie together, reminding them of how good they are together . . . which would be a whole lot less complicated if she hadnât spent half her life in love with River.

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Excerpt
âYouâre gonna make me a drink?â Maisie asked, raising her eyebrows. âI think I saw this play out in a Lifetime movie once. The guy made the girl a drink, and when she woke up, sheâd been sold into some sex cult.â
He laughed as he looked in the cabinet over Dottieâs fridge, where most people kept their liquor. âThat doesnât sound like a Lifetime movie to me,â he said, pleased when he saw several bottles. Vodka. Gin. Rum. Triple sec. âAnd I used to be a bartender. I take it you like sweet and fruity drinks?â
Her brow shot up. âAre you judging me, Mr. I-Watch-So-Many-Lifetime-Movies-I-Can-Spot-a-Fake-Plot? Seems like I should be judging you.â
Turning to face her, he shook his head. Damn she was prickly, and for some bizarre reason he liked it. âJudge me all you want, but Iâm not judging you. Iâm just trying to figure out what to make you.â
Her face froze and her irritation faded. âOh.â
He laughed, then spotted some lemons on the counter. âHow about a lemon drop martini? Iâm limited on a few key ingredients, so it wonât be my best, but I guarantee it will be better than Lurchâs punch.â
An appreciative look filled her eyes. âOkay, then. Wow me.â
He laughed again, and damn it felt good. His life had been serious for far too long, but Maisie brought out a playful side of him that had been buried forever. Tonight he wanted to pretend that he didnât have a narcissistic mother and a seventeen-year-old sister who felt like the world was caving in on her. He was going to pretend he wasnât creeping up on thirty without much of an idea of what the hell he was doing. Tonight, he was just a man who was captivated by a beautiful woman.
After slicing the lemon, he pulled the bottles of vodka and triple sec out of the cabinet. He rooted around the kitchen and found a mason jar and lid, plus a bottle of agave nectar since he didnât have any simple syrup. He added the ingredients to the jar and shook it up with some ice, while Maisie watched him with an amused grin.
âWere you like those bartenders in Coyote Ugly who took their shirts off?â
âSorry to disappoint. That would violate many health code standards.â
âSo youâre a rule follower,â she said, studying him more intently.
âWhy do you feel the need to label me?â he asked, searching for an appropriate glass to pour the drink into and only finding a wine glass.
But Maisie must have realized his dilemma because she snatched the mason jar from his hand and took the lid off.
âYouâre supposed to pour it into another glass.â
She looked up at him with a smug expression. âSee? Rule follower.â
Then she took a sip.
Was it wrong that he watched her lips as they cradled the rim of the jar? Or that his gaze drifted to her bare neck as she swallowed? Shit. That should not be turning him on, yet here he was, shifting uncomfortably and grateful his boxer briefs had shrunk in the dryer, binding him more tightly than usual.
âI donât follow all the rules,â he found himself saying in a husky voice.
She lowered the jar and stared up at him. âOh, yeah? Prove it.â
Jesus. What was she doing to him? Was she insinuating what he hoped she was? He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them and wrapping an arm around her back. When she didnât protest or knee him in the balls, he slowly pulled her flush against him.
âWas this what you had in mind?â
About Denise Grover Swank

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten ho uses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasnât lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
Connect with Denise
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Website: https://bit.ly/3hRjcNl
About A.R. Casella

A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her first book.
Connect with A.R. Casella
Facebook: https://bit.ly/3gOsV5v
Website: https://www.arcasella.com/
