Matchmaker

by Lauren Landish

  Matchmaker

  Lauren Landish

  Edited by Valorie Clifton

  Edited by Staci Etheridge

  Photography by Alex Wightman

  Copyright © 2017 by Lauren Landish.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © 2017 by Coverluv.

  Cover Model: Luke Austin.

  Photography by Alex Wightman.

  Edited by Valorie Clifton & Staci E.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Contents

  Matchmaker

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt: Mr. Fixit

  Excerpt: Mr. Fiance

  Excerpt: Anaconda

  Coming November 9th!

  About the Author

  Matchmaker

  by Lauren Landish

  30 men. 1 woman.

  I know how it sounds… dirty.

  Except it’s just the premise for a new reality show, Matchmaker, where I’m supposed to find love on TV.

  Thirty sexy eligible bachelors are competing for my hand, trying to prove their love for me in front of millions of people.

  I know most are fake and only here to advance their careers, but there are two who draw me to them like a moth to a flame.

  One is blond and blue-eyed, with a chiseled body and a prowling natural grace. And while he might seem a little rough around the edges, with me, he’s kind and genuine.

  The other is passionate, driven, and totally focused on me–everything a woman could want.

  I feel so torn. Do I choose the one I’m falling in love with, or can I be happy settling for the safe bet?

  That should be an easy question. If I were a bystander sitting at home, I know what my answer would be.

  But I’m scared. He could destroy me, burn me to ash with his fire. And if I’m wrong about him, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover…

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  Prologue

  Emily

  My knees are weak, shaking beneath the length of my formal gown as I stare blankly at the pops of color across the dark night sky. Behind me, I can feel a faint wind tickle my exposed back, making the fountain show a little blurry as the lights flash on the moving water sprays. I’m sure it’s spectacular, but I don’t even really see it. I try to blink, focus on something, anything, but I’m lost in some sort of weird hypnotic trance. My arms feel heavy, and it’s only the waving motion of the producer off camera that snaps me out of it.

  The two men across from me are both strikingly handsome, but that’s where the similarities end. One is blond and blue-eyed, with a chiseled body and a prowling natural grace. And while he might seem a little rough around the edges, with me, he’s kind and genuine. The other is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He has a way with words that makes me feel precious.

  If there’s anything these two men have in common, it’s the look in their eyes, one of equal parts want and need. But is it real? How can I be sure?

  This is my deciding moment, and I feel so torn. Do I choose the one I’m falling in love with, the one who pushes me and lights flames deep in my soul? That should be an easy question, and if I were a bystander sitting at home on my couch, I’d readily say yes. But I’m scared. He could destroy me, burn me to ash with his fire. And if I’m wrong about him, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.

  People are pulling me the other way, telling me the other guy is the better choice and backing that up with good reasons. The other guy is passionate, driven, and totally focused on me. He’s everything a woman could want. But my heart doesn’t flutter when I think about him. Can I be happy settling for safe?

  It’s all just happening so fast. I only met them a few weeks ago, and it’s been a whirlwind of romantic adventures ever since. Admittedly, most of it has been orchestrated by the show, contrived by the people behind the camera who have walked me step by step through the journey to this moment.

  So whom do I chose?

  “Emily!” the producer calls, obviously exasperated with my unintentional overly dramatic pause. “We don’t have time to stand around all night. I need the choice before the light show finishes!”

  I take a deep breath, trying not to lose my lunch all over my high heels. I give a nod and count to five, pausing as I see flickers of emotion in the eyes of both men.

  Fear. Uncertainty. I know exactly how they feel.

  Even though I’m not sure how this is going to end, I dutifully begin. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, so gentlemen, let’s see if we’re a Match. Please . . . turn over your cards.”

  Chapter 1

  Emily

  “I still can’t believe it!” I cry into the phone to my friend Cassie as I walk out of my bathroom, fresh out of the shower and over the moon giddy. “They really want me!”

  “We’ve been over this. You’d better believe it, girl!” Cassie laughs. I’m sure she’s happy it’s finally become a reality for me as I’ve annoyed her to death ever since I sent my video to the producers. “Unless you’ve suddenly become grotesque or killed a man, they picked you. You’ve sailed through all their Q-and-A sessions, and I’m guessing you’ve haven’t had a zit pop up overnight, so you’re golden. It’s you, babe.”

  I’ve been running around my room like a chicken with its head cut off, but at Cassie’s words, I pause and squeal, “O.M.G. It’s so happening! Hollywood, here I come!”

  “Congrats again!” Cassie exclaims. “I’m so happy for you!” She adds under her breath, “Thank you, Jesus! I don’t have to listen to ‘I wonder if they think I’m cute enough’ over and over anymore.”

  I can’t stop smiling, my heart soaring to the heavens. “I know, right? I mean, after I sent in my video, I was convinced I wouldn’t get a call back. They must get thousands of submissions from interesting women. Me? I’m regular old Emily, nothing special.

  “You are special!” Cassie says. “I know it, you know it, and they damn sure know it or they wouldn’t have picked you. Now, serious question here . . . you got your outfits picked yet?”

  I can hear the grin in her voice as she asks, and I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, a few. They told me that I only needed to bring a few spare outfits and they would provide the rest.”

  “Damn, they’
re just rolling out the red carpet for you, aren’t they?” Cassie jokes. “Sure they have one wide enough?”

  “My carpet’s a lot skinnier than yours, Miss Future Real Estate Mogul,” I say, casually tossing back her dig. Furrowing my brow, I bite my lower lip thoughtfully. “I’m just dying to know what the show is going to be about. The ad was attached to the season finale of Survivor, but the execs told me it would be something totally different.” Thinking about it, my mind goes back to when I first got the call.

  “Hello, this is Meredith Ward of Ward-Williams Productions. I wanted to talk to you about your video submission,” the businesswoman announces when I pick up the phone.

  I almost hang up on the spot. Just another attempt by Cassie at playing a prank on me. No way they’re calling me.

  “Nice joke, Cass! You’re not fooling me!”

  The laughter at the other end of the line tells me that I’m way off. God, I’m such an idiot. Her laughter assures me that I didn’t ruin my chance. “Miss Parks, I assure you this is no joke, and the only Cass I know is a seven-foot-tall guy.”

  “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” I spew, blushing furiously. “Miss . . .? I’m an idiot.”

  “Meredith Ward. And relax. I just want to chat a little. Your video caught our attention.”

  I try to keep my racing heartbeat under control as she begins to ask questions that are mostly about me. Where I grew up, why I love working with kids, and why I applied to the show. I try to answer them honestly without running on forever. I don’t want to sound like a ditzy airhead. She seems especially interested to know if I have any skeletons in the closet, explaining that the show’s producers don’t want any shockers while the show is on air. I don’t blame them. Scandals have been known to sink ratings like a ninety-year-old’s tits.

  She laughs politely when I tell her the worst thing I’d ever done was steal a lollipop as a kid, but I took it back before I even made it down the block. “Well, Emily, I have to say that I’ve got a few more calls to make, but I like your chances.”

  Since then, I’ve talked to Meredith several more times, including a Skype interview with a panel of show executives. They already knew the answers to all the questions they asked me, since Meredith had already asked them before. They probably just wanted to see my reaction, but I answered in the same way I did with her—truthfully and honestly.

  I’m still not sure what I’ve gotten myself into. It’s all hush-hush, and no one will say a word. You’d think it was a top-secret government program.

  “Well, as long as it’s not one of those shows where you’ll be one of many helpless women chasing one ding-a-ling belonging to the biggest douchebag ever, all while begging him to choose you to be his love interest after he’s probably fucked all the other girls, then I think you’ll be all right,” Cassie says, breaking me out of my reverie.

  I let out a laugh. “Oh, hell no. This might be my dream, but I do have my limits. I have class and standards, I’ll have you know.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Cassie quips. “Not sure ‘class and standards’ apply to a girl who will babysit one night and then dance on a pole the next.”

  “Hey! That was one night. You dared me, and may I remind you that I took second place?” I growl. “Don’t hate.”

  Cassie laughs, and I can’t help but smile despite my nerves about being in the dark on what I’m getting into.

  I glance at my clock. “Crap!” I say. “I’ve gotta go! The production limo will be here soon.”

  “Production limo? To your house?” Cassie asks, sounding shocked. “Girl, what are you not telling me?”

  “I’m as surprised as you. They said something about Cinderella treatment, something I wouldn’t know the least bit about. But I can’t argue with that!”

  “I don’t blame you, but you be safe, you hear? Call me when you get there. I’m dying to know what this is about.”

  “I am too. And I will,” I promise. “Bye, babe.”

  “Details! I want all the details!” Cassie yells as I pull my phone away, making me chuckle. I hang up the phone and scurry over to the closet. I don’t have much time to get ready. I need to be quick. Flipping through clothes, I rummage through my wardrobe, trying on different outfits with the speed of Wonder Woman. Meredith said to wear something nice, but I don’t know what that means. Finally, I settle on a body-hugging red dress that makes my eyes pop. I don’t remember where I got it, but as soon as I saw it, I had to have it. It’s like it carries good luck or something. And it’s decidedly nicer than my usual lazy-chic jeans and tees.

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t think I look bad at all. With bra-length blonde hair, blue eyes, and hips that give me an hourglass figure, I look like the modern girl next door. Maybe that’s why they chose me. But what they plan to do with me, I have no idea.

  Flashing myself a wink, I gather my purse and a tiny duffel bag of belongings. I’m not even outside for a minute before a shiny black limo pulls up. Out of the corner of my left eye, I can see my nosy neighbor Ethel Crabtree perched on her porch, nearly falling out of her rocking chair to get a view of what’s going on. And to my right, wannabe real housewife Holly Vereen is just pulling into her driveway and getting out of her SUV. She’s dressed in a black knockoff Versace jumpsuit, her mouth falling open when she sees the limo driver jump out to serve me.

  “Emily!” she gasps in surprise, gawking at the limo. “What’s all this about?”

  I flash her a grin, trying not to laugh as the driver motions inside the vehicle. “If you’ll please, Miss Parks.”

  Holly usually ignores me and sticks her nose up at me whenever I try to speak to her, so I find it hilarious that she wants my attention now. “Sorry, Mrs. Vereen, but I don’t have time to chat,” I respond cheerfully, giving her a friendly wave. “You have a wonderful day!”

  “But—” she begins to protest, but her words are lost as I dip into the limo and the driver closes the door.

  I’m immediately enveloped in luxury, sitting back against the leather seats. I let out a low whistle as I look around at all the finery. This thing is equipped with everything, even a bar and a popup flat-panel TV.

  I can hardly stop gawking. It’s all so much. As someone who’s lived a working class life, I’ve never been in a limo or a car this decked out before. Running my hands over the supple leather seats, I can hardly believe what’s happening. This almost feels like a dream.

  As the driver pulls away from the sidewalk, I can see Holly rushing over to gossip with Ethel through the tinted windows. Both of them are staring with wide eyes, gesturing wildly at the limo. I know they’re talking about me, wondering what in the world is going on, but they’re quickly forgotten as we leave the street and the two women and my house disappear from view.

  As we move through the city, my mind returns to my Skype interview with the show’s producers.

  “Emily, you know that you will be in isolation during filming, correct?”

  I’m sitting in my living room, nervous as I look into the camera. I nod, hoping they don’t see me twisting the hell out of the washcloth in my lap. “Yes. Meredith explained it to me.”

  “She’s got a good voice. Teeth aren’t too horsey,” someone else says as the group begins talking about me like I’m not even there. Some say I’m perfect, and others comment like I’m some prize pedigree at a dog show.

  “We should get the dynamic duo on her,” another producer says. “They can do something about that skin and her hair.”

  “Oh, and make sure we get her measurements. I want to reduce that hippiness that’s going to show up on-screen,” someone says, and I’m beginning to feel like a reject from the dog pound. Seriously, bitch? Hippy?

  “We’ll take care of all that,” Meredith says. “Just remember, Emily, we might sound cruel, but this is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. We’ll be in touch soon.”

  Damn, she had to say that last line. I’m hooked again.

  “Miss Pa
rks?”

  I look up, realizing I’ve been lost in thought. “Sorry. Yes?”

  “We’re at the airport.” The driver lets me out, and I quickly go through security and board the plane. First class, something I can certainly get used to. On the flight over to LAX, I try to sleep, but I’m so nervous I can’t keep my eyes closed. I have no clue what awaits me at my final destination. I’m supposed to ‘find out when I get there’.

  When we touch down, I’m a ball of nerves and I have to drag myself through the airport to my waiting ride—another decked-out limo. It’s chaos as we pull out of the terminal into bumper-to-bumper traffic, but I relax against my seat as I peer out the tinted windows. We make our way to the congested highway and the crowded, seemingly never-ending urban landscape.

  Los Angeles. The City of Angels. Some people call it the city of sinners, but I really don’t know anything about all that. As a small-town girl, I’m taken aback at the enormity of the place. It’s HUGE. And the traffic is insane. I swear it seems like hours since we left LAX, yet we probably haven’t even gone five miles. Thankfully, the limo is comfy and I can sip at a mineral water as we crawl along.