Totally crazy, right? Well, optimistic in the very least.
But whatever a shrink might have to say about it, it meant the pressure was on to find Mr. Right, which was what I was trying to do tonight. And he had to be Mr. Right, not Mr. Okay, or Mr. He’ll Do.
No way.
I wasn’t settling for anything less the absolute perfect man for me. Because I’d already been there with the guy I thought was the perfect man for me, the one I planned on spending my life with. And yet still here I am, single and looking for love.
The good news was that the pact had worked for Cassie, Paige, and Marissa: all three of them happily and blissfully in love with their respective guys.
Now, it was my turn.
Although looking at the Bee Gees wannabe across the table from me, I was having serious second thoughts about the whole darn thing.
I clenched my fists under the table, determined to turn this around. I decided to change the conversation to something less . . . icky.
“You sound British. Are you?” I asked.
“I am. London, born and bred,” he replied with obvious pride. His accent definitely sounded cockney.
“I love London. What do you do, ah”—I glanced down at his nametag, clipped onto his white, open-necked shirt—“Jamie?”
He leant in. “Actually, I’m going to let you in on a li’le secret, love.”
I pressed my lips together. If his opening line was anything to go by, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear one of his “li’le secrets.”
“Jamie’s not my real name.”
“Oh?” Why’s it on your nametag at a speed dating event, then?
He shook his head. “He’s my idol. Jamie Oliver.”
That peaked my interest. “Really? I adore Jamie Oliver!”
He shrugged. “A lot of people do. I’m a chef, you see. Pretty famous where I’m from, actually.” He shot me a self-satisfied look as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Famous, huh?”
What was he doing speed dating at O’Dowd’s pub in Auckland city, literally on the other side of the world, if he was famous?
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a drag. I used to get fans throwing themselves at me. Female fans, usually.” He raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say “see how desirable I am?”
I didn’t.
Instead, I had an image of a group of frenzied women lunging themselves at him, a frightened look on his face, as he tried to get away. I had to stifle a giggle.
He leant in toward me once more. “That’s why I’m ’ere, you see. I want to meet someone real, someone who doesn’t know me or my work. Know wha’ I mean?”
“Well, I don’t know you or your work, Jamie.”
“Exactly.” His eyes dropped to my chest and lingered there. I self-consciously pulled at my top.
I glanced down at the checklist of questions I’d prepared for tonight. With only four minutes per “date,” I had decided I wanted to make the conversation as targeted as possible—without making the guys feel like they were being interrogated by the SS, of course.
I looked back up at Jamie—although with the flicked hair and square jaw he looked much more like a Fabio wannabe than the chef to me. “So, tell me, with the limited time we have right now, what do you want me to know about you?”
Clearly not your name . . .
I’d got that question from a list on the Internet. I liked it because it wasn’t your usual “what do you do for a living” and “where are you from” questions.
I sat back and waited for the cheese to ooze right out of him.
I wasn’t disappointed.
“Only that you’re the most beau’iful woman in this room and if you don’t let me take you ‘ome tonight, I think I may die.” His eyes slid down to my chest once more, where they remained for some time.
I could have vomited.
I smiled weakly at him. Four minutes with this guy suddenly felt like a lifetime.
He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of one of mine. It was warm and clammy. I had to resist the urge to pull away—and apply a serious amount of hand sanitizer.
“Bailey. That’s such a beau’iful name.”
“Thank you.” I slipped my hand out from under his, shooting him a smile.
“Are you named after the milky liqueur?”
The liqueur? Was he insane? Who named their child after an alcoholic drink?
“Ah, no. It’s a family name. From my dad’s side.”
“So, our firstborn daughter could be ‘Bailey,’ too.”
Our what? Man, this guy was laying it on by the shovel load.
I laughed nervously, my eyes darting over at my friends once more. Cassie gave me a hopeful look, her tentative ‘thumbs up’ gesture completely at odds with the way I felt about Fake Jamie—his blatant advances and Fabio looks.
Not that I had anything against Fabio slash Fake Jamie, of course, but I didn’t think I wanted to date him.
My eyes drifted from Cassie to a man standing beside Marissa. It was Ryan Jones, Marissa’s older brother. I did a double take. He didn’t look like he had when I last saw him. Sure, he was just as tall and broad, just as cute—not that I’d noticed that before.
Oh, okay, I had noticed that before. In my defense, it was hard not to notice a guy like Ryan. Tall, athletic, handsome, charming. You got the picture.
I looked him over. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and an open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong arms. That hadn’t changed. But now, his dirty blonde hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him, sexier, like he’d just messed it up with his fingers. He was sporting a new close-cut beard. And it suited him.
Put a hammer in his hand and he’d look a lot like freaking Thor.
The last time I’d seen him was the night Marissa had performed a song for the guy she’d fallen for, Nash, at the café. Her Last First Date, as it turned out. Ryan had flirted with me, and made me smile. I didn’t think much of it at the time. You see, he’d flirted with me once before and nothing had come of it. I figured it didn’t mean anything.
Although I’d wished it had.
He looked over at me and flashed his handsome grin. I smiled back and then, feeling bad I’d been totally ignoring my “date”, I returned my attention to Fake Jamie.
“Umm, I’m not sure we should get that far ahead of ourselves,” I said.
There would be no firstborns called Bailey—or anything else with this guy for that matter. And I could tell you one thing right now: there wouldn’t even be a second date.
Mercifully, the bell rang, indicating our misnamed “speed date” had come to an end.
I smiled at him. “Nice to meet you Fa-Jamie.” I pressed my lips together, glad I caught the nickname I’d given him in my head before it escaped my lips.
“You too, beau’iful Bailey.” He reached across the table to try to take my hand in his. There was no way I was letting his clammy mitts get ahold of my hand again, and he ended up holding my elbow in his hand.
Awkward much?
“I’ll be back la’er to take you home.” He shot me a meaningful look.
I swear my skin began to crawl.
Before I could say “vomit bag”, another man materialized at my table. He shot us a puzzled look, and I couldn’t blame him: you didn’t see a man awkwardly holding a woman’s elbow over a table every day of the week.
“Ah, I think you’re needed at the next one, mate,” New Guy said, nodding at the table along from me where a petite blonde woman with a top that plunged almost to her naval was seated.
Fake Jamie glanced over at the woman who smiled back at him. In a flash, he let go of my elbow and sauntered over to her table, flicking his hair as he went.
I let out a puff of air. I glanced at the woman, hoping she could manage him better than I had.
New Guy sat down in his vacant spot, and the whole thing started over again.
“Hey, I’m Adam.” He reached acros
s and we shook hands. “And you’re”—he glanced at my nametag and then back up into my eyes—“Bailey.”
Already things were off to a better start than the previous four minutes of my life. Which, let’s face it, wasn’t hard.
“Hi, Adam. It’s great to meet you.” I flashed him a smile, more than a little relieved this guy seemed normal.
And quite cute, too.
“So, shall we begin? I mean we only have four minutes,” Adam said.
“Exactly.”
“Right. Bailey, what’s the one thing about yourself you’d would like me to know?”
I let out a laugh. “That’s my question!”
“Really?” His smile was broad and I noticed how open and kind his face was. He wasn’t Hollywood star handsome, with his slightly receding hairline and eyebrows a beauty therapist would have a field day with, but he seemed nice—and a million miles from Fabio.
“I just asked that last guy the very same question. His answer was . . . how do I put this?”
“Too smooth?” Adam replied.
Adam and I both looked over at the adjacent couple where Fake Jamie was leaning across the table and had taken the petite blonde woman’s hands in his. I guessed he was delivering the same lines as he had to me. She looked about as enthralled as I had been.
Poor girl.
Adam returned his attention to me. “I should be honest with you. I did some research online to find questions for this speed dating thing. You see, I’ve not done it before and my friends kind of pushed me into it.”
I glanced across at my own friends, sipping their wine and being about as subtle as a sledgehammer as they watched me and Adam on our “date.”
“You know what? I can relate to that.”
“You got railroaded into this, too, huh?”
I shrugged. “Kind of. It was my friend, Marissa’s suggestion, but I guess I’m the one sitting here, right?”
“Right.” He smiled at me and I couldn’t help but return it.
This was going well. Maybe Marissa was right? Maybe “going old school” by speed dating instead of using those dating apps and sites was the right thing to do?
“Anyway, to answer your question, I guess I would like you to know that I’m genuinely looking for someone.”
His smile grew. “That’s good to know. Me too. Or, at least, I am now.”
Unlike with Fake Jamie, the compliment didn’t have even a whiff of cheese to it. In fact, it was . . . nice.
“Ready for my next question? I’ve got a huge list.” He laughed.
“Sure. Fire away.”
“What are you most proud of?”
“Great question! I hadn’t seen that one.”
“Thanks. It’s all in a day’s work.”
“Okay, I guess it would have to be my business.”
“What do you do?”
“I run a café, and I love it.” I thought of the Cozy Cottage Café and smiled. I’d been running it with Paige, my dear, sweet friend, for some time now, and we had taken it to new heights. We were rushed off our feet, just the way I liked it.
“A café. Nice. I like coffee. And eating.”
I laughed. “Well, you should stop by some time.”
“What’s it called?”
I told him about the Cozy Cottage and we continued to chat, the four minutes whizzing by. All too soon, the bell was sounded and Adam got up to leave.
“I’ll hope to see you again, Bailey,” he said, the skin around his eyes crinkling into a smile that lit up his whole face.
“You, too.”
I looked over at the girls and all three of them gave me the thumbs up. I beamed at them.
Perhaps this speed dating thing hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all?
*
You can get your copy of Four Last First Dates from Amazon now!
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Acknowledgments
I loved writing Marissa’s story! Giving her depth beyond her witty quips and self-assuredness in the first two books in the Cozy Cottage Café series was such a pleasure, and I hope you enjoyed getting to know her as much as I did writing her story.
I have a list of people to thank for helping me bring this book to publication. As always, thank you to my editor, Chrissy Wolfe from The Every Free Chance Reader. Chrissy, you ‘get’ my writing and help me make it so much better. Thank you!
For this book, I have gained two wonderful critique partners. Jackie Rutherford, your quick wit and sense of humor are always appreciated, and you can spot a storyline flaw at one hundred paces. Kirsty McManus is more than a critique partner. She also helped me get this book done, with daily writing total check ins and constant cheer-leading. Kirsty, your attention to detail is almost not human, and your support of my writing gives me wings. I know I’m in very safe hands with you two by my side.
Thank you to my beta reading team, especially Leanne Mackay, who always has astute observations and immensely useful feedback for me.
Thank you also to Sue Traynor for designing yet another stunning cover for me. Sue, you get it right each time, and I thank you for it.
Thank you to my key writers’ groups, Chick Lit Chat HQ and the Hawke’s Bay ladies of the Romance Writers of New Zealand group. Writing is a profession like few others, and your support is invaluable.
This wouldn’t be an acknowledgements section without mentioning my family. My husband and son are both so supportive of me. I love you both for it so much and I’m lucky to have you. I would also like to thank my mother-in-law. Robyn, you are so proud of me and my writing, and I want you to know how much it means to me.
Last but certainly not least, thank you to all my readers. I hope I can keep writing books you can fall in love with.
About the Author
I am a bestselling author of fun, feel-good romantic comedies. I live and love in beautiful New Zealand with my family, two scruffy dogs, and a cat who thinks he's a scruffy dog, too. He's not: he's a cat. My books include the Wellywood Romantic Comedy Series: Wedding Bubbles, Styling Wellywood, Miss Perfect Meets Her Match, and Falling for Grace, and the Cozy Cottage Café Series: One Last First Date, Two Last First Dates, Three Last First Dates and Four Last First Dates, plus a couple of standalone titles, One Way Ticket and I'm Scheming of a White Christmas. All my books are available from Amazon to buy or to read for free on Kindle Unlimited.
I’ve got a fun new contemporary romance coming out on March 4, 2019. It’s called The Right Guy and is on preorder for just 99 cents from Amazon now. You can get your copy here.
Right now, I’m working on the first title in a new series, called Fairy Tales in New York. Book 1 is a retelling of the Cinderella story, called Manhattan Cinderella. It’s a fun, feel-good romance I hope you’ll love.
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