“They all had that private club, private school aura about them. Like they knew something other people didn’t.”—Rozsa Gaston, Running from Love

“They all had that private club, private school aura about them. Like they knew something other people didn’t. She wanted to claw their eyes out.”

What was Farrah’s problem?

JLo in a 2004 Vogue spread exudes qualities Farrah wishes she had, but doesn’t

Excerpt from Running from Love:

“So you’re not a trust fund kid,” he said, hoping he didn’t
sound like he was fishing.

“No way,” she snapped then caught herself. “I mean—no—
I’m not. No one is where I come from.” She put her hand up
to her face, nervously smoothing a wisp of hair from her cheek.

“What about you?” she asked, looking guarded.

“I grew up with a lot of them, but I wasn’t one.” He locked
eyes with her. If only she knew how happy he was that she wasn’t one either.

Some know how to exude the private club aura better than others

“Did you want to be?” she asked, intuitively.

“Sometimes I thought I did,” he responded truthfully, surprising
himself. “What about you? Did you?”

“I didn’t even know what a trust fund kid was until a few
years ago. Then I found out the hard way.” She looked away,
shifting in her seat.

“So you bumped into one.”

“Not exactly.” Farrah’s eyes flamed again, this time with
anger.

“Let me guess. You dated one, and it didn’t work out.”

“I dated someone who left me for one.” She clapped her hand
over her mouth, then released it. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

Jacqueline de Ribes knows how to get across private club membership. Farrah’s not quite there yet.

“I’m glad you did. So the guy made off with a trust-fund babe? Let me guess. Someone with rich parents who works at an art gallery or in public relations?”

“P.R. How did you know?” Farrah looked astonished.

“Her father works in finance or law, and her mother is an interior decorator or kindergarten teacher at a private school and sits on a board.”

“That’s—you’re—how do you know all this?” she stammered, looking as adorable as she did vulnerable as she stared at him. She didn’t lack the wound.

End excerpt from Running from Love by Rozsa Gaston

What wine would you sip while contemplating this quote?

Contemplating the concept of exclusion suggests sipping on something just a bit more exclusive than usual, then enjoying the company of one’s own private club while savoring it. Are you the only member? Even more exclusive.

I would recommend a St. Germain cocktail: the simplest imaginable combination of 4 oz. of Pinot Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc topped off by 1 oz. of St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur. This delicate yet heady elderflower liqueur delights the taste buds, ushering one into a state of refinement after a single sip.

Serve St. Germain cocktails as an aperitif to kick off your next social event. Your guests will think you have very good taste and want very much to join your club. Let them.

The way you will feel after sipping a St. Germain cocktail

Don’t forget, darlings—if you don’t have time to read these days, download Running from Love audiobook and listen to Jude’s and Farrah’s story on your commute or while you work out.

Decorated arch, Gellert Spa Baths, Budapest

Next week we will take a look at thermal bath spas in Budapest to set the stage for my upcoming release Budapest Romance.

Must run now. I’ve got a date at the club.

Playfully yours,

Rozsa Gaston

 

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The women he met were like castle walls with no windows. He couldn’t gain a foothold with any of them.—Rozsa Gaston, Running from Love

“The women he met were like castle walls with no windows. He couldn’t gain a foothold with any of them.”  What was Jude’s problem?

Excerpt from Running from Love:

It was time to circulate.

At the next pause in Ginny’s anecdote, Jude excused himself, got up from the table and strolled outside. The deck of the Indian Harbor Yacht Club was chilly in the late September evening. An easterly breeze drifted in from Long Island Sound, causing the ladies to clutch their wraps and the men to drink more.

He peered across the water. Another seven miles beyond Great Captain’s Island lay his hometown of Oyster Bay, New York. It was too far away to see, but it was there: a mirror reflection of Greenwich, Long Island–style.

“Looking for something?” a female voice asked.

Turning, he gazed into the most wide-set pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were practically planted on either side of the woman’s head, like a bird’s. The effect was not unattractive.

“Just trying to spot my hometown.”

“Glen Cove?” She knew her geography.

“No. Oyster Bay.”

“Ohh.” The needle on her interest meter went up. “You’re from Oyster Bay?”

“Yes. Once upon a time.” Whatever being from Oyster Bay was supposed to signify, it usually meant something completely different to the questioner than it did to him, the same way it did when he mentioned he was from Greenwich.

He hadn’t really moved that far from his hometown. He’d crossed Long Island Sound, but remained in his previous socioeconomic bracket—the one no one believed he really came from—the son of a caretaker and a cook.

Now, he was a ghostwriter of how-to-get-rich books. He hoped he’d learn something practical soon, so he could afford to write the books he really wanted to. They’d be about people who were in between two groups, belonging to neither. He knew a lot more about that topic than he did about how to make money.

End excerpt from Running from Love by Rozsa Gaston

What wine would you sip while contemplating this quote?

Women like castle walls with no windows? I would sip something haute: as in haute bourgeois, haute cuisine, and women who carry themselves with a certain hauteur.

Out of Jude’s league

Jude Farnesworth in Running from Love surrounds himself with women he can’t possibly see himself in a relationship with. Why does he do this? Self-sabotage perhaps? An easy out from the rigors of actual engagement?

When Farrah Foley from the Bronx comes along, she’s the real thing. But Jude has spent so much time practicing not being the real thing back in Greenwich, CT, that he doesn’t know how to let her know that he’s interested.

While contemplating castle walls with no windows, I would sip a crisp, dry white wine from France, the land of boundless hauteur with no apology.

A 2012 Domaine Saint-Lannes is not only exceptional in its crispness combined with hints of floral perfume in its bouquet but also in price. Unbelievably, about $9.99 per bottle.

It’s composition? 80% French Colombard, 20% Gros Manseng.

Sip this or something similar while you read Running from Love and contemplate Jude Farnsworth’s dilemma: how to get real when the real thing comes along.

Farrah has an equally challenging dilemma to overcome before she can consider Jude. His name is Whit. But that’s for our next blog post.

Don’t forget, darlings—if you don’t have time to read these days, download Running from Love audiobook and listen to Jude’s and Farrah’s story on your commute or while you work out.

Can’t wait to tune in again next week and tell you all about Farrah’s deliciously delicate difficulties. Must run now.

Playfully yours,

Rozsa Gaston

 

 

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