First, I had to lie to my boss. (Sort of.)
Then my parents had a fight. (They never fight.)
The pint-sized lapdog that is treated better than I am has thrown up. ( Twice.)
And my mother’s six-foot-tall beauty-queen protégé won’t stop sniveling— and she takes up half the back seat.
This vacation hasn’t even started . . . and I’m ready to go home.
I knew better. I really did. No one in her right mind would actually choose to spend a week at the beach with a steel-Magnolia drama queen, a tragically disappointed diva-in-training, and a yapping, hurling, supremely annoying little canine princess. But I love Seaside, so I came. And was actually having fun until I ran into the gorgeous, exasperating Joshua North . . . and watched my good sense slide rapidly south. Which goes to show that even with a tan and (maybe) a new man in my life—I’m still the same old Savannah . . . from Savannah.