PRAISE FOR
About a Dog
“With a down-to-earth heroine, charming hero, and adorable puppy, About a Dog is romantic and entertaining. Jenn McKinlay writes sexy, funny romances that will leave you begging for more!”
—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author
“Funny, charming, and heart-stoppingly romantic. With an irresistible hero and an utterly enchanting heroine, not to mention a dog you can’t help but fall in love with, About a Dog is the perfect mix of sweep-you-off-your-feet romance and humor. Jenn McKinlay is a rising star.”
—Jaci Burton, New York Times bestselling author
“McKinlay delivers heartwarming humor at its finest.”
—Lori Wilde, New York Times bestselling author
“Clever writing, laugh-out-loud humor, and a sizzling romance. Mackenzie and Gavin’s reunion story will keep you turning the pages and laughing until your sides hurt. This one is a keeper.”
—Delores Fossen, USA Today bestselling author
“About a Dog has friends, family, romance . . . and of course a dog! It’s funny and sexy! I loved it!”
—Holly Jacobs, national bestselling author
“I loved About a Dog! Mac and her friends are funny and real. The romance is charming, as is the town of Bluff Point, Maine, with its quirky residents, both human and animal. Tulip is the cutest matchmaker and best scene-stealer ever!”
—Nancy Warren, USA Today bestselling author
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF JENN McKINLAY
“Full of warm and likable characters.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Full of fun and plot twists.”
—Booklist
“What a great read!”
—Library Journal
Titles by Jenn McKinlay
Cupcake Bakery Mysteries
SPRINKLE WITH MURDER
BUTTERCREAM BUMP OFF
DEATH BY THE DOZEN
RED VELVET REVENGE
GOING, GOING, GANACHE
SUGAR AND ICED
DARK CHOCOLATE DEMISE
VANILLA BEANED
CARAMEL CRUSH
Library Lover’s Mysteries
BOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING
DUE OR DIE
BOOK, LINE, AND SINKER
READ IT AND WEEP
ON BORROWED TIME
A LIKELY STORY
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER
Hat Shop Mysteries
CLOCHE AND DAGGER
DEATH OF A MAD HATTER
AT THE DROP OF A HAT
COPY CAP MURDER
ASSAULT AND BERET
Bluff Point Romances
ABOUT A DOG
BERKLEY SENSATION
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf
Excerpt from Barking Up the Wrong Tree by Jenn McKinlay copyright © 2017 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY and BERKLEY SENSATION are registered trademarks and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN: 9780399584725
First Edition: June 2017
Cover art: A rear view of a young couple outdoors © Globalstock / Getty Images; Wedding setups © mambographer/Shutterstock; Brindled boxer puppy © Dora Zet / Shutterstock
Cover design by Katie Anderson
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
For Kate “You Need More Conflict” Carlisle. From the day we met at a book signing at the Poisoned Pen, you have generously offered me your wisdom, advice, humor, encouragement, and the occasional kick in the pants when warranted. You are an amazing writer and an even better friend. I am so grateful to have you in my life and look forward to getting into way more shenanigans together! XO
Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without our Annie, a dog we discovered thrown away in an alley, who wagged her way into our hearts in a matter of minutes. As if she was meant to be ours, she immediately bonded with her schnauzer brother, Otto, and our two cats, Patsy and Loretta, until it was hard to remember a time when she was not in our pack.
There are so many people who played a critical role in the creation of this novel that I must start at the beginning so I don’t miss anyone. My editor, Kate Seaver, sparked the idea when she said she thought I could write romantic comedies. That was all I needed to hear to revisit a genre that I adore. My mother, Susan McKinlay, encouraged my enthusiasm by spending a train ride from New York City to New Haven kicking ideas back and forth until we were both pretty excited by the raw story we’d created. My author friend Kate Carlisle endured a library conference in San Francisco, where she offered up a bazillion ideas to improve the conflict-light novel that I had in my head until it began to build substance. My agent, Christina Hogrebe, sealed the deal when I dropped the surprise manuscript on her and she devoured it with enthusiasm and delight. Finally, several longtime writer friends offered their support and encouragement with their willingness to read the early draft—Lori Wilde, Delores Fossen, Tanya Michaels, Holly Jacobs, and Nancy Warren. I feel so very fortunate to have all of these people in my life, most especially the crew at Berkley—sales, marketing, public relations, art, and all levels of editing, particularly on this manuscript, Amelia Kreminski and Yvette Grant—all of whom are so generous with their time and talent and make my books sparkle and shine. Thank you all! To the men who live in the frat house with me—Chris Hansen Orf, Beckett Orf, and Wyatt Orf—thanks for putting up with all of the take-out food I’ve been forcing you to eat. I will cook again someday, I swear. Love you forever!
Contents
Praise for Jenn McKinlay
Titles by Jenn McKinlay
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 36
Excerpt from Barking Up the Wrong Tree
About the Author
Chapter 1
“Clearly, she hates us,” Carly DeCusati announced from behind her dressing room curtain. “She must.”
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad,” Mackenzie Harris protested.
Carly was the overly dramatic one in their group of friends, so Mac knew to ignore the paranoia in her friend’s voice. She entered the curtained dressing room of the upmarket Boston bridal store and unzipped the cover on the bridesmaid dress that the shop assistant indicated had been chosen for her.
Mac pulled the garment out of the bag and flinched. She dropped the scratchy fabric and put her hand to her throat as if to ward off the ugly. There was no arguing it, the dress was hideous.
“Oh, ish, what color is this?” Jillian Braedon, another bridesmaid, asked from her dressing room.
“Cat sick?” Carly offered. It was clear from her tone she wasn’t kidding.
“Maybe it’s the lighting in here,” Mac said. “Nothing ever looks good under fluorescent lighting.”
“Yeah, no,” Carly said. “The only place this dress would look good is in a blackout.”
Jillian snorted and Mac sighed. As maid of honor, she knew it was on her to gently but firmly break it to the bride that they collectively hated the dress, which, with only four weeks to go until the wedding, was not going to go over well at all.
“Let’s just try them on to be sure,” she said.
“Really? Do we have to?” Carly whined. “I bet it gives me hives.”
“I have a lotion for that,” Jillian offered. As always, she was ever prepared for any situation, sort of like a Girl Scout minus the cookies.
“Listen,” Mac said. “The sooner we try them on the sooner we can take them off.”
The other two grumbled but she was reassured by the rustle of clothing that they were undressing to suit up as requested just like she was. Mac took the dress off the hanger and held it up in front of her. In a shade of brown green that looked like a bowl of guacamole gone wrong, the dress had padded shoulders and a puffy skirt the likes of which Mac had only seen at unfortunate eighties theme parties.
“Is it just me or does anyone else hear Madonna’s ‘Crazy For You’ in their head?” Carly asked.
“Me, I do!” Jillian agreed. “I also have a sudden urge to rat up my hair in a lopsided ponytail and wear a lot of jelly bracelets.”
Mac lowered the zipper on the side of the dress and pulled it over her head. She shoved her arms through the holes and wiggled until the dress fell around her hips, landing somewhere at mid-calf. It took some maneuvering but she managed to pull up the zipper. She had to suck in her breath to make the snug middle actually fit, but she got it. Barely.
She closed her eyes and smoothed the skirt, hoping that when she opened them the dress would not be the nightmare she feared it was. She opened just one eye for a quick glance. Ew! She shut her eyes again. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.
Mac drew a deep breath and forced herself to face her reflection, trying to build up the nerve to look with both of her peepers. There had to be some mistake.
Emma Tolliver, the bride, had been her best friend since the first grade. Emma was a petite, pretty blonde with exquisite taste; surely, Mac was just missing something here, like maybe Emma was color-blind or had sustained a nasty head injury that Mac didn’t know about. Seriously, there had to be some explanation for this fashion travesty.
She opened her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. There was no getting around it. The dress was butt-ugly. Carly was right; Emma must hate them.
Mac noticed the others were silent and wondered if they’d been rendered catatonic by the horror show of a dress.
“Hey, are you two all right?” she asked.
“I refuse to come out,” Carly said.
“That sounds like a personal issue,” Mac countered. “Jilly, how about you?”
“No, I don’t think I can,” Jillian said. “What if someone got a picture of this? It could go viral on the Internet. Oh, my god, we could be a bridesmaids-from-hell meme that would live on and on forever and ever.”
“I can’t get the zipper down,” Carly said. There was the sound of some grunting and thrashing. “I swear to god if I can’t get it off, I will burn this dress while wearing it.”
“Stop the crazy talk, both of you. You can’t take it off, Carly, you know Emma is going to want to see us in them,” Mac said. “She’ll be here any second.”
“I love you all like sisters, really, I do,” Carly said. “But I will eat a gun before I let anyone see me in this thing.”
Mac poked her head, just her head, out of the curtain. She scanned the room. “There’s no one here but us. I think we’ll all feel better if we see one another. I don’t want the image of me to be the only thing burned on my retinas for eternity.”
The other two were quiet, until Mac said, “Well?”
“Fine, but I’m doing it under protest,” Jillian said.
“Yeah, all right, but only because I need help with the zipper,” Carly agreed. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
Mac shoved her curtain aside at the same time the other two did. They all stepped out and looked at one another. Mac felt her eyebrows rise up to her hairline. She knew how bad the dress looked on her, but the fact that the dress did nothing for Carly’s short, curvy Italian va-va-voom figure, nor did it jive with Jillian’s dark complexion and tall, slender wear-anything-and-look-amazing physique, told Mac that the only place the dress belonged was in the garbage.
The expressions on Carly’s and Jillian’s faces confirmed what Mac already knew; she looked as bad as they did. She glanced at the mirror. She was somewhere in the middle of the other two, as in average height and average build with shoulder-length brown hair that she hit with expensive copper highlights on a somewhat regular basis.
Really, it was a halfhearted attempt to be fashionable, given that she mostly wore her hair in a ponytail because although she paid a premium for the color, she was weak on the whole maintenance thing. She glanced back at her friends.
They looked like survivors from a train wreck. It could have been the horrified expressions on their faces or maybe it was the poofy shroud of a dress making them look sickly and anemic. A second glance at the mirror and Mac confirmed that she looked as if she’d been belched out of the wreckage with her friends. Or worse.
“We look like floaters in a rest stop toilet,” Mac said. Then a laugh burbled up out of her before she had the presence of mind to stop it.
“What are you giggling at? This is a crisis!” Carly cried. “Unless you think we could actually flush these dresses down the toilet?”
The three of them glanced around the room but there wasn’t a commode in sight.
“I hate to even suggest this, but do you think Emma is doing that bride thing, you know, where the bride picks the ugliest dress possible for her bridesmaids so that she looks even better on her special day?” Jillian asked.
“No!” Mac shook her head. “Emma isn’t like that.”
“I don’t know,” Carly said. “She’s the first one of us to make it legal. Maybe she’s going a little bridal banana balls on us.”
Jillian gave Carly a bug-eyed look and Carly bit her lip and stared at Mac, looking regretful as she said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up . . .”
“No,” Mac said and held up her hand to stop Carly’s gush of apologies. “The past is the past. No worries. Let’s just focus on the crisis at hand.”
“How could she do this to us?” Jillian asked. “We’re her Maine crew and have been for the past twenty years.”
“Maine crew, ha, like main crew but we’re from Maine!” Carly snorted. “I see what you did
there.”
“Yes, very clever,” Mac said. “Now, focus.”
She gestured at the triple mirror in front of them. And they all turned to take in their reflection with varying levels of alarm.
“You know when you find the perfect dress, the sort that makes you feel like a sexual goddess who wants to touch herself?” Carly asked. “Yeah, this dress is not that dress. This dress makes me want a vaccination and a full body condom.”
“We’d be sexier in full body condoms,” Mac said.
“A shot of tequila or four is the only thing that could make this dress palatable,” Jillian said. “Wait here. I might have some in my purse.”
Jillian ducked back into her dressing room, and Carly and Mac exchanged a bewildered look. When Jillian returned she was clutching several tiny bottles of Jose Cuervo. She met their stares and shrugged.
“What? This is our prenuptials girls’ weekend to be spent out on the town in Boston. I packed for any unforeseen emergencies,” she said. “Believe me; telling Emma we hate the dress is an emergency. But I suppose I could whip up a soothing batch of chamomile tea if you’d rather.”
Mac snatched one of the tiny bottles out of her friend’s hand. She had just put it to her lips when the main door to the dressing room opened and Emma walked in.
“Oh, you found the dresses,” she said and clapped her hands together. “Yay!”
“Yay?” Carly asked. She looked like she was going to take a swing at Emma. It had been known to happen, although usually only in bars late at night toward people who had seriously pissed her off. Mac stepped between the two women.
She thrust the small tequila bottle at Emma and said, “Cheers!”
Maybe if they got her drunk it would be easier to tell her the dresses were a no-go. Emma smiled and took the bottle, although she didn’t drink.
“Celebrating?” she asked.
“Er, more like medicating,” Mac said.
She glanced at Emma, her oldest friend. They had been through it all together; braces, first dates, thin envelopes from their dream colleges, even the sudden death of Emma’s mother when they were teens. There was nothing Mac wouldn’t do for her dearest friend except wear this dress. There was no way to finesse this, none at all.
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