My sweet romance, Maeve, is on a 99¢ Kindle Countdown. (U.S. residents only.)
I’m sharing an excerpt from Chapter Two:
He shrugged off his suit jacket, draped it on the other chair, and closed his eyes. After a quick shower, he’d take an invigorating swim.
And then he’d meet his Perfect Match …
Right, a bit of a damp squib.
He swallowed and shook his head. Anyone who knew him would vouch that he wasn’t husband material. And after dessert this evening, he’d present his side of the equation to the Perfect Match lady, before she pegged him out as the passport to remedy her no-doubt desperate marital status.
All the same, he grabbed the Perfect Match envelope from his jacket pocket and unsealed it.
The opening information stated he and the woman were meeting at eight for dinner. He already knew that thanks to the ever-efficient Pierre.
He unfolded the second sheet and read her profile:
Miss Irish Independence, Age 26
“When he takes me in his arms, He speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose-colored glasses.”—Edith Piaf, French singer, songwriter, and film actress.
I live for a hot cuppa tea and will share it with you.
I’m a good listener. But make no mistake, I follow my own dreams, not yours.
Love comes in many forms, and I believe in a commitment to one person.
Be warned … I’m a workaholic.
So she was indeed Irish, and a feisty independent woman. He chuckled. And a type-A personality from the sounds of it. Just like him.
He turned over her photo and his breath caught.
This was her? This woman was Maeve?
Right … well …
Her dark eyes held an impish twinkle. Her chestnut-brown hair was pulled away from her face, enhancing high cheekbones and full pink lips. She was stunning, and he hadn’t expected that.
He placed her photo on the table, gazing at her for a long while. Then he reread her profile. I live for a hot cuppa tea and will share it with you. I’m a good listener.
Perhaps this Perfect Match setup wasn’t such a bad idea.
Grab your copy of Maeve today!