The Cocktail Bar.

When Cocktails Take Over Glastonbury High Street!

What could possibly go wrong?

Actually, perhaps we should be asking ‘what could possibly go right?’

In talented author, Isabella May’s second novel, “The Cocktail Bar”, which launches on February 13th 2018, the mystical town of Glastonbury – and its residents’ lives – will never be the same again.

Why?

Because ex indie rock star, River Jackson, has returned to his roots after a decade on the road, touring with his band, Avalonia and ‘has the audacity’ to come swanning back into town, buying up a former working class pub complete with skittle alley… only to turn it into a cocktail bar.

Well, if anybody out there has ever been to this one-off Somerset destination, then they will know first-hand that Caipirinha and candles do not mix… much less Cosmopolitans and the traditional Scrumpy Farmhouse Cider.

The Cocktail Bar is available for pre-order NOW on Amazon via this universal link: http://myBook.to/thecocktailbar 

-Before you know it, your pint of cider will be a thing of the past.-

The Cocktail Bar blurb: 


Rock star, River Jackson, is back in his hometown of Glastonbury to open a cocktail bar… and the locals aren’t impressed.

Seductive Georgina is proving too hot to handle; band mate, Angelic Alice, is messing with his heart and his head; his mum is a hippie-dippy liability; his school friends have resorted to violence – oh, and his band manager, Lennie, AND the media are on his trail.

But River is armed with a magical Mexican elixir which will change the lives of the Three Chosen Ones. Once the Mexican wave of joy takes a hold of the town, he’s glad he didn’t lose his proverbial bottle.

Pity he hasn’t taken better care of the real one…

 

Author Bio:


Isabella May lives in (mostly) sunny Andalucia, Spain with her husband, daughter and son, creatively inspired by the sea and the mountains. When she isn’t having her cake and eating it, sampling a new cocktail on the beach, or ferrying her children to and from after school activities, she can usually be found writing.

As a co-founder and a former contributing writer for the popular online women’s magazine, The Glass House Girls – www.theglasshousegirls.com – she has also been lucky enough to subject the digital world to her other favourite pastimes, travel, the Law of Attraction, and Prince (The Purple One).

She has recently become a Book Fairy, and is having lots of fun with her imaginative ‘drops’!

The Cocktail Bar is her second novel, following on from the hit sensation, Oh! What a Pavlova, published in 2017. Her third novel is currently being polished up and involves copious amounts of churros con chocolate: watch this space…

Twitter – @IsabellaMayBks
Instagram – @isabella_may_author

Excerpt taken from Chapter Six of The Cocktail Bar:

If it wasn’t for his celebrity status she’d have been utterly humiliated. Six people turned up for the official opening night. Just six! And one of those was Heather. It was like a sketch out of a very bad comedy.

“There will be one rule in this bar and one rule only,” River announced. “I’ll never serve you more than two cocktails of an evening.” A flurry of muffled voices ensued. “Why?” he paused until he’d regained their attention, “because the cocktail is to be savoured, not devoured. The construction of a cocktail is a work of art; the degustation of a cocktail is an evening at the theatre. You wouldn’t eat a three course meal during The Phantom of the Opera; in the same way, you won’t drink three courses of cocktails in this bar.”

Fabulous, there went all of Georgina’s future tips every time a starry-eyed customer thought he was in with a chance with her. What a stuck up thing to say. People knew their limits when it came to drink. You might get away with this in some swanky speakeasy in the capital, the kind of place ‘the other half’ visited before their soiree in a plummy theatre, but in a small town like this, it was an insult that would only drive away footfall. He should have run this past her first. She’d soon have persuaded him to up it to four. Two cocktails did not comprise a night out. This was beyond ludicrous.

She gave him a conspiratorial nod to keep up the charade anyway. What else could she do? Yes, her own reputation in this gossip-rife town might be at stake now, but she was doing this for Blake – and her dad. She just had to stick with it. There was still time to turn things around. If nothing else, the hearsay that wended its way out of here tonight was going to prick up so many only-too-willing-ears to put his outlandish theory to the test. The gathered ensemble clearly didn’t know whether to huddle at one table to avoid the mortifyingly, socially embarrassing phenomenon of rattling around at a party, or to do just that, flinging themselves far and wide to create the illusion of roaring success. How the first floor of the bar would ever be populated, she had no idea.

Georgina needed a tipple to deal with this herself, but instead she held her head high, remembering beauty’s power to take the edge off disappointment. Ever the hospitality pro, she sashayed over to a couple of decidedly middle-aged ladies who had evidently just finished work, dressed as they were in their hideous High Street travel agents’ regalia.

“What can I get you, girls?” she prompted, notebook at the ready.

River had asked her to try to memorise cocktail names, said it looked more authentic that way, but it was hardly going to make or break business if she did jot them down, and besides, it was still early days as far as her own training went, some of these creations had some unnecessarily complicated titles.

“We just can’t decide,” said the older one. “What does your sexy bartender over there recommend?” the ever-so-slightly younger one chimed in, unable to tear her besotted eyes off River as he needlessly demonstrated his showy pouring skills in the background, only adding to their collective pool of drool.

Georgina felt her hackles rise, and a twinge of a distant relative to jealousy stir in the pit of her stomach. Was this what she was going to have to contend with every night? He was hers, all hers, and as much as that was simply part of a revenge-fuelled plan, she was not used to sharing her treats with anybody, and not about to start.

“Why don’t I ask him to surprise you then? Yes, what a great idea,” she said, catching River’s eye in a moment of perfect synchronicity and walking back to the bar before they had chance to protest.

“They’ve asked for two Earthquakes,” she said, slapping her notebook down on the counter and letting her pen catch up with her mischief.

“But that’s not even on the menu,” said River, clearly alarmed at the strength of their choice.

“Well, these ladies do seem very experienced when it comes to their spirits. Best give them what they’ve asked for. I’m just as surprised as you are, but we can’t be discerning or sexist when it comes to serving up Absinthe. There’s a very good reason they let it back into the States in 2007.”

“I’m impressed, George… Georgina, Georgina.”

She scowled.

“You are a little powerhouse of knowledge, aren’t you?” he winked, and then heard the laughter coming from the travel agents’ table which clearly helped to back up their letting-their-hair-down choice of drink. “Hopefully they’ve both got a day off tomorrow.”

He turned to find a couple of Champagne coupe glasses and Georgina breathed an imaginary sigh of relief. This was going to be entertaining all right.
The Cocktail Bar, by Isabella May

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