Maeve (Perfect Match Book 6)

by Josie Riviera

  Maeve

  Perfect Match Series

  Josie Riviera

  Contents

  Title Page

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  A Note From The Author

  Tata Jeanne’s Cheese Omelet Recipe

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Josie Riviera

  Thank You

  Excerpt from Bree

  Maeve

  Perfect Match Series

  by

  Josie Riviera

  Cover by Raine English

  Elusive Dreams Designs

  http://www.ElusiveDreamsDesigns.com

  This book is dedicated to all my wonderful readers who have supported me every inch of the way.

  THANK YOU!

  Introduction

  You’re cordially invited to spend an all-expenses-paid week-long trip to the island of your choice, courtesy of Perfect Match Online Dating and Travel Agency.

  Grab your beach umbrella and prepare for six weeks of romance and fun in the sun with a brand-new series brought to you by USA Today bestselling authors…

  Perfect Match!

  Six exciting, sweet novellas linked by a unifying theme. You’ll want to read each one!

  PERFECT MATCH SERIES (MAEVE)

  Six women receive invitations from Dawson Yates, owner of Perfect Match, a brand-new online matchmaking travel agency for a free week-long vacation to the island of her choice. As part of an extensive promotional campaign, Dawson expects to make six perfect matches that he can use to champion his business. The women expect to meet the men of their dreams. What none of them anticipates is the chaos that ensues when six couples who were strangers before agreeing to spend the week together discover that love is a lot more complicated than a match made by computer algorithms.

  Join Bree, Marni, Molly, Jade, Ava, and Maeve as they embark on a once-in-a-lifetime vacation in the pursuit of love.

  This is Maeve’s story…

  Maeve Doherty needed a hard-earned break from Ireland’s rainy weather, as well as from caring for her younger brother. When the offer from Perfect Match to enjoy a week on an island of her choice arrived, she hesitated. But not for long.

  She’d always wanted to visit Corsica. Besides, who passed up free?

  All right, so she'd spend the week with a match. On her dating profile, she’d added that she was a workaholic. Hopefully, so was he.

  Edward Newell had one thing on his mind when he reached Corsica, and it didn't involve meeting a perfect match. Dating? Love? Romance? Not for him.

  He was determined to find the picture-perfect location for his thriving hotel chain.

  When unexpected attraction burns for the beautiful Maeve, and business conflicts with pleasure, what could possibly go wrong?

  Meet the women of Perfect Match!

  BREE (Raine English)

  MARNI (Aileen Fish)

  MOLLY (Julie Jarnagin)

  JADE (Rachelle Ayala)

  AVA (Denise Devine)

  MAEVE (Josie Riviera)

  Prologue

  Maeve’s Perfect Matching Dating 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.

  Chapter One

  “It’ll do you good to get away from Ireland. We’ve had a rainy summer.”

  “Rainy summer?” Maeve Doherty grinned at her best friend, Colleen O’Keefe, who was busily swiping Maeve’s phone. “When can you recall a non-wet summer in Ireland?”

  “A year ago. It was on a Thursday.”

  Maeve laughed out loud. As always, her flaming-haired friend’s sunny disposition lifted her spirits.

  Colleen chuckled in return. Her tailored canary-yellow pantsuit, with matching pumps, fit her full-figured body impeccably. Maeve glanced at her own worn linen skirt and smoothed her wrinkled polyester blouse. When had she last taken time for herself? She’d forgotten, it had been so long ago, with all the worry and sleepless nights.

  Colleen plunked into an oversized chair in the lobby of the building that housed the Merrimac Company. The women were purchasing agents for a small Irish hotel chain. Their duties included placing orders for everything from hotel furniture to cleaning supplies, and comparing various prices and the quality of the merchandise.

  Colleen pointed with one of her French manicured fingernails at Maeve’s phone screen. “If I’m reading this email correctly, you’ve been offered a free week at the paradise island of your choice, compliments of the Perfect Match dating agency.”

  Maeve pulled up a chair across from her friend. “Aye.”

  Keeping her fingertip on the blinking cursor, Colleen paused. “You plan to accept, don’t you?”

  “Whatever the catch is, it’s not worth a week anywhere on the globe.”

  “This offer is from Amy Yates, your friend from America, and her husband, Dawson. And it’s a personalized invitation.” Colleen scanned Maeve’s phone screen. “A free vacation, a romantic getaway, a chance—”

  Maeve held up a hand. “Aye.”

  “So it’s legit,” Colleen declared gaily. “I remember you said they owned the agency.”

  “Aye.”

  “Which island are you choosing?”

  “I’m not choosing any island because I’m not going.”

  “How about Corsica, France?” Colleen obviously pretended she hadn’t heard Maeve. “You’ve always wanted to learn French. And isn’t there a famous museum there you’ve always wanted to visit?”

  “Maison Bonaparte, the ancestral home of the Bonaparte family.” Maeve nodded. “The museum is located in Ajaccio, Corsica.”

  “Then go.”

  “Yes, someday, on my own, using my own money—not obligated to a matchmaking agency.”

  Colleen pushed her glasses up her nose and peered at the phone. “All expenses are paid and the terms and conditions are clearly spelled out. All you have to do is agree to spend the week with your match or risk being charged for the vacation.”

  Maeve lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s all?”

  “It’s a massive marketing campaign to introduce their new business,” Colleen reminded her. “You’re helping them as much as they’re helping you.”

  “I love history, but I’m not that desperate to see Napoléon Bonaparte’s death mask. I’d prefer spending a cozy week in my flat reading a pile of European history books.” Maeve tapped her fingers together and drew in a breath. “Figure in a hot cuppa Irish tea and lemon scones from The Ground Café and I’ll be merry as a leprechaun.”

  “You’re emotionally spent,” her friend said quietly. “And you gave Amy Yates permission to plug your name into the Perfect Match database.”

  Maeve turned a despairing look on Colleen. “Aye, in a flash of desperation when I feared any opportunity for love was passing me by. I’m over that.”

  Was she?

  Once she’d recovered from the sadness and shock of learning her twenty-year-old brother Owen had been diagn
osed with cancer, she’d settled into the daily task of tending to him when he opted to move in with her rather than live with their mother. She’d given up every pastime she enjoyed to care for him, including auditioning for minor acting roles, something she loved.

  Now that Owen’s radiation treatments were over and his caregiving routine had become stable, perhaps she could ease up a bit, take a breather. Perhaps …

  “Maeve?” Colleen prodded. “Owen is in remission and he can go live with your mother for a week. She’s able-bodied and can tend to him. You’re only twenty-six. Live your life.”

  “Most days my mother isn’t capable of washing a dish, let alone attending to a sick adult. She had a hard-enough time being a parent when Owen was well.”

  “Your mother lands in the middle of drama because of the type of men she sees, and her ongoing dilemmas can’t always be your problem.” Colleen leaned back in her chair. Her normally keen bright-blue gaze softened. “Enough about your mother. What’s the craic with you? Are you sleeping okay?”

  Maeve shrugged. “I’m always tired, although everyone is exhausted nowadays because of our hectic lifestyles.”

  “Grab this chance. Go. Believe me, if it weren’t for my boyfriend, Colin, I’d take your place.”

  Colleen and Colin had an on-again, off-again relationship that had lasted for over a year. Currently, it was on again.

  A reassuring grin crossed Colleen’s freckled face. “Along with Owen’s healthcare providers, your mother will mind him brilliantly. I want to see an optimistic smile on your face again. I’m sure you’ll have a lorry-load of stories to share when you get back.”

  Maeve shook her head. “Because of all the days I missed when Owen became ill, I’m on the verge of losing my job. I certainly can’t afford to take off any more time. Besides, his medical bills are mounting, and our private insurance only covers part of them.”

  “You’re physically and mentally exhausted. Your health is important too. You need the time away to maintain your sense of balance.”

  “Aye, perhaps,” Maeve admitted. Her brother’s cancer journey had been a lengthy road crowded with difficult decisions and the challenges of radiation treatment.

  “The Merrimac Company wants to branch out of Ireland and explore resort areas for other hotels. Pitch the idea to our manager. Tell Mrs. McShea it’s a working holiday. Just think you’ll get paid for sitting on a beach in a bikini.”

  “I don’t swim, and I’ve never worn a bikini.”

  “Live a wee bit, Maeve. Spend your days lying in a lounge chair and looking out at the Mediterranean. You once told me there are over two hundred beaches in Corsica. Imagine the sun, the surf—”

  “Colleen—”

  “The sand.” Colleen laughed. “It’s a win-win. Besides, who can pass up the chance to meet Mr. Right?”

  “I’m too busy to fritter away my valuable time on a man. And there’s no such man as Mr. Right, at least not for me.”

  “How do you know? Make the time.”

  “Suppose he’s not interesting?”

  “Suppose he is?”

  “What about Crinkles?”

  “Your dog is accustomed to your ma’s flat.” Colleen tapped the phone screen again. Amy says her agency’s matchmaking algorithms are the best and they’re launching this campaign to prove it.”

  “And if you keep scrolling, you’ll see they want people who’ve been unlucky in love.”

  Like her.

  Maeve studied Merrimac’s lobby—a gleaming brown floor, mahogany table, anything but her friend’s sympathetic stare. She’d spilled out more than she’d intended.

  A year ago while visiting a cousin in America, she’d met Amy while shopping in an exclusive boutique, not realizing at first that she was chatting with the owner of the boutique. They’d become instant friends, and they shared coffee and heartfelt conversation after the store closed. That evening, Maeve had poured out her sadness to her new-found confidante.

  Finbar, Maeve’s boyfriend of two years, had broken up with her—not even in person—but through a dismissive text.

  “No more,” she’d declared to Amy. “Men and their hollow promises are not to be believed.”

  Wasn’t Maeve’s father, who’d left her mother without an explanation, further proof of her statement? He’d said he’d return. He never had.

  “Maeve? Maeve?” Colleen yanked Maeve from her upsetting remembrances. “I’m partial to the final line of your dating profile.” She read aloud: “‘Love comes in many forms, and I believe in a commitment to one person.’ Colleen looked up at Maeve. “Aww, that’s very sweet. You expressed yourself perfectly.”

  Heat rose in Maeve’s face. “I’m starry-eyed and foolish for writing something so reckless. No one stays with one person forever.”

  “Some do. Some people have a love that lasts. Where are those rose-colored glasses you used to wear?”

  “I’ve put them away and become realistic.”

  “Dust them off. What if Mr. Right is waiting for you in Corsica?”

  “He won’t be, although just to be sure ...” Maeve grabbed her phone from Colleen and included another line at the bottom of her dating profile.

  Be warned … I’m a workaholic.

  Colleen squinted at the screen. “Being a workaholic is supposed to deter him?”

  “I’ll plead nine-to-five obligations.”

  Plus, any other excuses necessary to safeguard her heart.

  “So, it’s settled.” Colleen flashed a quick smile. “You’ll accept Amy’s offer and choose Corsica.”

  “Aye.” Maeve feigned enthusiasm, then blew out a breath.

  She’d go, she’d rest, she’d work. But she wouldn’t risk falling in love.

  Once was enough. Besides, if there was a perfect match for her on God’s emerald-green planet, she’d have found him by now in Ireland.

  “That’s grand,” Colleen said. “Finally, you’re doing something for yourself.” With a flourish, Colleen stood and walked over to Maeve, throwing her arms around her. “Get ready, my dear friend, for an amazing adventure!”

  Chapter Two

  Edward Newell arrived in Corsica aboard his family’s private jet. He’d initially flown from London to Nice, where he’d spent the night so he could check on a family-owned resort property. From there, he’d flown on to Corsica, an easy forty-five-minute trip.

  The Perfect Match agency had offered to arrange his travel; he’d declined.

  Bidding the limo driver, a thank you and farewell, he strode into the marbled lobby of La Bonaparte Resort, pausing to admire wall hangings that depicted Corsica’s famed cliffs and its nature reserves. He passed a scattering of loud tourists and headed toward the reception desk.

  In a reasonably short while he was greeted by a skinny, clean-shaven man. His tawny-colored hair was raised and swept to the side, giving him a James Dean appearance.

  “Bonjour, monsieur. My name is Pierre Martin, and I’m the head concierge. Please allow me to welcome you this Sunday afternoon to our resort.” Pierre extended his hand for a shake, then produced a flute of champagne and a cool lavender-scented washcloth.

  “Good afternoon.” Edward accepted the washcloth and refused the champagne. He drank on rare celebratory occasions, and this wasn’t one of them.

  “Your name, monsieur?”

  “Edward Newell.”

  Cheerful and energetic, Pierre clicked on his computer while briefing Edward on the hotel’s amenities and Wi-Fi. “Ah, you’re staying for une semaine, oui?”

  “One week. That’s the plan.”

  “We hope you enjoy your stay with us.” Pierre boasted a reedy French accent and a broad grin. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call on my services.”

  “A glass of iced tea sounds good.”

  “I’ll send it straight to your suite, along with today’s newspaper.”

  “No paper. I can catch up on the news tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.” Pierre typ
ed into his computer and then reached behind the desk. “May I also present your Perfect Match?” He kept his face bland although Edward detected a slight raising of Pierre’s carefully tended eyebrows.

  “Merci.” Edward placed the washcloth on the counter, stuffed the sealed envelope into the inner pocket of his tweed suit jacket, then pulled out his wallet. “Here’s a little something—”

  “Non, monsieur, I don’t accept tips. Always my pleasure.” He glanced at Edward’s woven leather bag and matching briefcase. “Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

  A bellhop appeared before Pierre finished his question.

  “No, I can manage,” Edward said.

  “But of course. The young lady … your match … hasn’t arrived yet. Her flight from Dublin was delayed.”

  Dublin. The woman hailed from Ireland? Probably pale-skinned and frail. She’d be sun-burned within fifteen minutes in this blasting heat.

  Edward gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched across the far end of the hotel. Picture-worthy, the three-tiered infinity pool appeared to collide with the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean.

  “I’ll alert you when the lady arrives,” Pierre was saying. “I’m sure you’re anxious to meet her. Mr. and Mrs. Yates arranged a dinner date for you and your match this evening.”

  “Who are the Yateses?”

  “The owners of Perfect Match, monsieur.”