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Author Katie Mettner

Sweat Pants & Wine for the Win!

That's right, the indubitable Jan Romes has a new book releasing today! No Sweat Pants Allowed Wine Club is a fun story about a newly single 40 year old woman and her three most unlikely wine club members. 


Suddenly single, in her forties, and eager to do what it takes to start over, Elaina Samuels meets three women with similar circumstances at a cash-for-gold event. They quickly become friends and form the No Sweat Pants Allowed – Wine Club. This newly found alliance brings about some humorous escapades, a few tears, and a bond so strong no man can break as they try to cling to the past and finally step out of their comfort zones to find a happiness they thought they’d never feel again.

Discover Elaina Samuels, Tawny Westerfield, Stephanie Mathews, and Grace Cordray.


Sandwiched between two very large guys - one who smelled like he'd eaten a dozen cloves of garlic, the other who must've bathed in beer- Elaina Samuels, checked her watch, shifted from foot to foot, and finally inhaled; not because she wanted to, but a girl could only hold her breath for so long before turning blue and passing out. 
Leaning around the wide back of garlic-man to hawk-eye the front of the line, Elaina grumbled under her breath, "Come on, people. How long does it take to get rid of your unwanted gold?"
Garlic-man did a half-turn. "I know, right?" His gaze roamed over her, sending a cold shiver up Elaina's spine. Lingering at her chest for an inordinately long moment, he moved up to meet her eyes with a salacious smile and a large chunk of broccoli wedged between his front teeth. It wasn't a whole spear, but it stuck out like one. Elaina fought the urge to point to the funky green stuff. Instead, she squinted with reproach. 
The smelly man appeared unaffected by her glare. "Who's doing all the wimpering?"
Elaina had also heard the woeful sounds. Slightly nauseous from the combination of scents assaulting her airspace, with her last nerve hanging by a fragile thread, she replied blandly, "I have no idea." If the pungent doofus didn't face forward, he'd soon be plucking poison darts from his forehead.....

About the Author

Jan Romes is a hopeless romantic who grew up in northwest Ohio with eight zany siblings. Married to her high school sweetheart for more years than seems possible, she is also a proud mom, mother-in-law, and grandmother. She likes to read all genres, writes witty contemporary romance, is a part-time fitness trainer, and enjoys growing pumpkins and sunflowers.


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