Miss Match Read online

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  For Lisa, who started it all

  Acknowledgments

  Laurelin Paige—

  As with any book, this one was not born alone. There are too many people to name all the people I’d like to acknowledge, but there are a few thank-yous that are essential.

  First and foremost, to Kayti McGee, my work-wife—I’ll say it again and again: don’t cowrite, but if you do, cowrite with Kayti. You are the wine to my empty glass. The Miss to my Match. You are brilliant and shiny in all the places that I am not. I look forward to all the places this journey takes us together.

  To our editor, Eileen Rothschild—I was so nervous to talk to you that first time on the phone, and then you were absolutely everything I ever wanted in an editor. Thank you for sharing our quirky enthusiasm for this series. It wouldn’t have been the same experience with anybody else.

  To the team at St. Martin’s Press—What a great group to work with! Thank you for inviting us into and embracing us in your tight-knit family.

  To Bob Diforio for making this deal happen and Rebecca Friedman for deals yet to be made. It’s the best feeling to have wonderful people in your corner.

  To Shanyn for keeping me together and KP for putting us together. It’s an honor to be called an InkSlinging Author.

  To Lisa—You gave me your idea. Ideas are gold. With this, you’ve given me the biggest gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.

  To Bethany—You fairy me through all the dark places. A particularly hard task when we both love the dimly lit moors so much. There’s a well of gratitude in my heart for you that never runs dry.

  To Gennifer—You named our book! It’s perfect. Thank you for that and more.

  The women who wrangle me—Wrahm, Naturals, FYW, and others (you know who you are): I make it through my days because of you. I also get distracted a lot because of you, but that’s another story.

  To my husband, Tom—Though I tease you for being flighty, you are my rock. Thank you for being so solid.

  To my children—I’m so proud of all you are. I hope you see me as an example for making your own dreams come true. I love you, my babies.

  To Mom—Finally, here’s a book I’ll let you read. Thanks for your never-ending support. Love you.

  To my Maker—Praise is always in my heart, even when it’s absent on my tongue.

  Kayti McGee—

  First and foremost—Laurelin Paige. You took me on this crazy journey, for no other reason than that you are God’s angel on earth. No one can possibly convince me you aren’t the best person I have ever had the honor to meet, much less call my friend. I’m inspired by you every day, to write better, be more, be better. I love you so much. You are grace and generosity and talent personified.

  Eileen Rothschild took a chance on us that I could never have imagined, and then turned out to be the most badass editor ever. Bob Diforio sold her that chance, and Natalie Lakosil was so charmed by my Dream Dr. Who Team (I assume) that she looked past my horribly awkward weirdness to become my agent. I am so lucky to have the best people in the business on my team.

  My mom taught me that reading is more important than anything, and without that I would never have become a writer. Dad, Kerry, Laura, and Dann backed that up. McGrigsbys!

  My friends—Sara, my bestie—my first reader and still the prettiest. M. Pierce, you redefined what friendship is for me. I’m so proud to be pub-siblings with such an incredible author and friend. Thank you for everything. The WrAHM girls, the Order, the Dirty Laundresses, Melanie Harlow, Gennifer Albin, Tamara Mataya, my guy Tyler, my lunch buddy Jen, my late-night buddy Leah. I couldn’t live without our constant contact. I have to especially mention Bethany Hagen’s perfect edits, and Lisa Otto’s perfect idea. You truly made this all happen, and for that, no thanks can be enough.

  Chapter One

  Personal Concierge, to start ASAP (Boston Area)

  I am a successful businessman looking for a wife. Due to a busy career and lack of energy or interest to devote to the process, I am seeking someone to assist me in my search. I am outsourcing the entire process, job to start immediately.

  The perfect candidate will be assertive, with excellent computer skills and a knack for reading people. She—I am only seeking women to fill this position—will be expected to:

  • Meet me, get to know me. Spend a week or so in my company to find out my interests, what makes me tick. During this time she will come to understand the type of woman I expect to fall in love with;

  • Do all searching activities on my behalf, including online, in real life, on social media, networking, and so on;

  • Once possible matches are identified, provide me with pictures and, upon my approval, arrange dates for us to meet.

  I am attractive and financially secure. I do not have trouble finding women who are interested in me. It is finding women that I deem interesting beyond the physical that is the challenge.

  While this job can be done at home, I’d prefer that several hours a week be spent in my company in order to keep a firm handle on what I expect in a love interest. I will have private space available in both my home and office for the right person to work.

  Income will be determined initially by the experiences the candidate brings to this project. Additional income will depend on the quality of women found to date me as well as how far the relationship(s) progresses—both emotionally and physically. We can discuss a specific payment schedule during the interview process.

  Serious inquiries only.

  Andrea Dawson held the iPad and read the want ad three times before registering exactly what it was Lacy was suggesting by pointing it out. “No way.”

  Lacy put on her best puppy-dog eyes—the ones that always seemed to get her out of speeding tickets. “Come on, it’s totally up your alley.”

  “No, it’s not.” Dear God, please, let it not. “What’s this listed under anyway?” Andy looked at the top of the page for the heading. “Marketing? That’s a laugh. I’ll stick to the Administrative section, thank you.”

  “Yeah, and that’s working out so well for you.” Bitterness dripped in Lacy’s tone.

  Andy sighed inwardly. Sure, her job search hadn’t led to anything—yet—but she wasn’t about to settle for matchmaker. It would all be so much easier if she’d finished her degree. Or if she’d managed to get references from her last job.

  No use moping about what she hadn’t done now. Now was the time to look forward. “I’ll find something. Eventually.” Hopefully. She pushed the tablet away from her. “I’m not applying for this. Thanks anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  She lifted her eyes to see Lacy’s jaw thrust forward.

  Uh-oh. Andy was well familiar with her baby sister’s determined look, and that was it.

  Well, Andy could be determined, too. “Because this whole Personal Concierge is fancy talk for pimp. You get that, right? And I may be down and out, but, dammit”—she pointed at the
iPad where the ad still filled the screen—“I’m better than this.”

  “Yes. You are.” Lacy sat in the chair across the table from Andy. “But you have to get a job.”

  “I’m working on it.” She ran a hand through her auburn hair, sweeping it off her nape. She felt bad enough living off her sister as it was. She didn’t need the lecture.

  “No, I mean, you have to.”

  Lacy’s serious tone drew Andy’s attention. Shit. It wasn’t just her sister’s determined look—it was her desperate look.

  Lacy took a deep breath. “I got my hours cut at the studio.”

  Andy’s stomach dropped. “Oh, Lacy, no! When? Why?” As a struggling singer-songwriter, Lacy had been lucky to get a job helping out in a recording studio. It brought steady income when she was between gigs.

  “Not enough work coming in. Darrin cut me two weeks ago.”

  Two weeks ago? And not a word until now? “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I don’t know.” Lacy kept her focus on her hands. Andy knew she’d never been comfortable with expressing her feelings. Unless she was singing about them. “You’re having such a miserable time, and I guess I didn’t want to add to it.”

  “That’s a laugh. You’re the only reason I haven’t thrown myself under a bus.” Andy immediately regretted her euphemism. It was callous to joke about suicide to someone whose boyfriend had died from a handful of pills only a year before.

  But the words were already out. “Don’t talk like that.”

  Well, it was a better reaction than Andy deserved. “I’m overdramatizing. I’m sorry. But seriously, Lace, you have been my touchstone through all this mess and it breaks my heart that you’ve been the one taking care of me when I should be taking care of you.”

  When Andy had first become destitute and homeless, she’d considered not even telling her sister. Then, besides having no other choice, she realized that moving in would give her a chance to help Lacy cope with Lance’s death. Not that Andy had been very helpful. She’d been present, at least. That was something.

  “I don’t need taking care of.” Ever-independent Lacy actually thought people bought the idea that she was all right. Maybe most people did. Not Andy.

  Yet Andy would let her believe it if that’s what her sister wanted. “I know you don’t need anyone. But I’m supposed to be the older, more responsible, got-my-life-together one while you’re the misfit musician. Instead I’ve been living off you for nearly eight months.”

  “Nine,” Lacy corrected. “But who’s counting?”

  The gloom of the situation began to settle on Andy. Dammit. With Lacy’s hours cut, Andy did have to get a job. Like, yesterday. She tugged on her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger. “God, I’m such an awful sister.”

  Lacy smacked her on the shoulder a little too hard to be called just a playful hit. “Shut up, will you? This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you would make this a reason to shame-spiral. That’s not what I wanted.”

  Wow, the role reversal of older and younger sister went farther than Andy had realized. She lowered her hand and drummed her fingers on the table, needing to fidget while she brainstormed. Her savings account was depleted. She’d used it up in her worthless attempt at suing her previous employer. “Maybe I can dig into my retirement account—”

  “Not an option. I’m counting on you to care for me when we retire. Unless I hit it big time, which, at this rate, does not look like it is happening. We’ll need that money when we’re old.”

  If it had been a typical conversation, Andy would have resented the fact that her sister assumed there would be no men in their lives in the future. It was understandable that Lacy thought she’d never love again, but what was wrong with Andy? Just because she hadn’t had a date in …

  Okay, that was just depressing. It had been too long for her to even recall. Coupled with their financial situation, it made for a really dreary morning.

  Putting thoughts of her lonely bed aside, she concentrated on the matter at hand. “So how bad are we right now?”

  Lacy frowned. “Bad. I thought I could manage the shortage by picking up a few extra gigs, but I haven’t landed anything that pays very much. I barely have enough right now to cover rent, and it’s almost time to renew my T pass or CharlieCard, whatever they’re calling the subway now. And have you noticed our fridge is pretty fucking bare?”

  They’d had dry cereal for breakfast and lunch the last three days. “Yeah, I did notice that.”

  “You paid the Internet bill so we’re good for a month there.”

  Andy kept her eyes down. “Uh-huh.” She hadn’t paid the Internet bill. It had been the last of her savings and she’d spent it instead on a new suit for a job interview she’d had the week before. A job she hadn’t gotten. Not enough experience, no references. Same story every time. She hadn’t even told Lacy about it, afraid to get her hopes up.

  “And I paid all the other monthly bills already, but it’s almost the fifteenth and that doesn’t give us long before they’re all due again.”

  “God, Lace, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Maybe a general apology would cover all her faults, including the missed Internet bill.

  “Stop apologizing and get a job!”

  “I’m trying!” Except she really wasn’t trying that hard. Not anymore. She’d tried in the beginning, but the interview the week before had been her first in almost a month. No one wanted a twenty-eight-year-old who hadn’t finished college and had a mostly blank résumé. The only job she’d held for the past eight years was certainly not going on there, not after the way it ended. The search had begun to feel pointless. “I’ve tried,” she corrected. “You know I’ve tried. I send out résumés every single day. Just because I haven’t gotten any other invites to interview yet doesn’t mean I won’t.” She hoped Lacy didn’t recognize her lack of conviction.

  “Yeah, I do know you’re looking. But without a single callback? I also know the probability of you getting a job anytime soon is pretty slim. At least the kind of job you want. So it’s time to start looking elsewhere.”

  “All right. You’re right. I need to lower my expectations. But this is really low, Lace. I…” She reached for the tablet, drawing it closer to read it once more. There were so many other options—she could try retail or be a hostess somewhere. “Why this job?”

  Lacy held up a finger. “Because, number one, it’s hiring right now. And we need money right now. Unless you want to flip burgers, this is the best chance I see at having another paycheck in our hands within the next two weeks.” She added a second finger. “And number two, this job was made for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad to know what you really think of my skills.” Truthfully, Andy had no skills. At least not the kind that could be quantified or labeled. She wasn’t great at computers, still used two fingers to type. The very thought of attempting Excel made her queasy. Her talents were unique and her previous employer had recognized them, shaping her job to suit her. Then she’d gone and screwed it all up. But only after he’d tried to screw her, literally. Her retaliation had felt worth it at the time. Now, with pennies in her pockets, she wasn’t so sure.

  “I think your skills are pretty damn rare. Not many people have the kind of talents you do. You know that, right?”

  Andy shrugged.

  “You just have to get some work under your belt so you can get an awesome referral and take those abilities to somewhere fantastic. This is that stepping-stone, Andy. You know you would rock it. You nail anything that has to do with people’s personalities. And this”—she pointed at the iPad—“matching-people-up crap? That’s exactly what you’re best at.”

  Actually, when Lacy put it that way, it was what Andy was best at. “I suppose so. Only—”

  “Look, you can still keep trying. Keep sending applications out, but in the meantime, will you please, please, just interview?” She laced her hands together in a pleading pose.

  Lacy was good. Really good.
When did she get this good?

  Oh, who was Andy kidding? She’d always been easily wrapped around her baby sister’s finger.

  Andy rubbed her hands over her eyes, aware that she was going to give in but not quite ready to admit it. “Just an interview?”

  “That’s all I’m asking.” Lacy’s tone was relieved. Excited, even, and Andy had yet to agree. “Go and find out what it all is, how much you’d get paid. When you’ll get paid. Maybe the guy’s a total hottie and easy to work for.”

  “Not likely. From his ad, he’s an obvious douchecanoe. Much like the last one.” Andy could picture him now—a stiff-collared, self-centered workaholic who found time to get a weekly manicure but couldn’t bother putting in the effort to find a date. He might even be attractive, but no one was good-looking enough to make up for being the total ass-hat that the ad portrayed.

  “I don’t know. Some people don’t know how to express themselves in writing. He could be a prince in frog’s clothing.” They looked at each other for a minute and burst out laughing. “Okay, he’s probably a douche, but we need the money.”

  “You don’t even know if I’ll get the job.” Please, God, let me not get the job.

  “You will.”

  “You don’t know that.” Though Lacy’s faith in her was sort of cute.

  “I do. But all I’m asking is for you to check it out. Go to an interview.” The puppy-dog eyes were out again. Even bigger now.

  It was time to give in. Andy had nothing left to argue. “All right, all right. I’ll go.” She put a hand up to halt Lacy’s victory dance. “Just to feel it out, though. I’m not promising anything else.” And maybe it wouldn’t be as terrible as she guessed.

  “Thank God!” Lacy whipped out a folded piece of paper from her back jeans pocket and handed it to Andy. “I already set it up for you. Your appointment’s at three. Here’s where you’re going.”

  “What?” Andy peered at her sister’s pencil scratch. It was an address downtown. “You set something up without knowing I’d agree?”