Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Match

by Marilyn Brant

  He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed each knuckle. Her breath caught, and all she could think of was how much she wanted to push this silly table out of the way so they could really embrace. He leaned over and touched the tip of her nose with his puckered mouth. All of her went tingly.

  He grinned. The light of his joy reached his eyes and sparkled out at her. “Before I knew about Bingley’s check,” he said, “and even before I knew about Beth Bennet’s real life, my heart had chosen you. And once I met Charlie, sweetheart, my heart chose him, too.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean from that day you walked into Social Services and saw ‘Charlotte Lucas’ there…with her son? I—I just can’t figure how—”

  “You’re trying to be too logical and too rational. This is one of those emotional, intuitive kinds of things. Hey, I thought women were supposed to be the experts in that?” He raised a mocking eyebrow at her.

  She shrugged and waved a white napkin in surrender.

  He snatched it from her hand, paused, then waved it back. “Look, Charlie tugged at my heartstrings. To be honest, I didn’t want to like him, but I did. He made me see, especially in the ER yesterday, that all stepfather-like relationships don’t have to be the way I’d experienced them growing up. That’s what I meant by feeling hope. I feel something wonderful emerging between us. Between Charlie and me. And I’d be willing to bet some of that has to do with our mutual love for you.”

  She sniffled but had long ago given up on trying to rein in those tears. “Haven’t you learned yet not to make bets?” she said. Love, the anti-gravity force that it was, tugged the corners of her lips upward.

  He laughed and gently dabbed her face with the edge of her confiscated napkin. “You know,” he said, “Bingley put me on the spot this week. He asked which caused me more pain—you or the millions I thought I’d lost. I have great dreams for the clinic and for what a bundle of money can do, but all I could think about in that moment was you, Beth. Missing you, above all else, is what’s been keeping me up at night.”

  The heck with the table. She stood up and slid it to the side so she could reach him faster. Her arms wrapped around his waist and slowly, wonderfully she felt his arms encompassing all of her as well. Sighing, she squeezed tighter and felt him respond in kind.

  Then his lips touched hers in the most heartening of kisses, warm and uplifting and loving. Like a film soundtrack in the background, someone in the coffee shop hummed “Here Comes the Bride,” while others applauded.

  “I guess that’s my cue to get down on one knee and propose,” Will said.

  “You planned to?”

  “Well, I didn’t bring the ring along, although I’ve kinda got one picked out,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “I guess I just didn’t want to be overconfident. And, also, I figured you might like some time to get Charlie used to the changes coming up in his life. Once that cast comes off, he and I have got some major pitching and catching sessions to get started on…and Cubs games to go to…and you and I have some new siblings to create for him…and—”

  “What?” she said.

  He kissed her again. “Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself. All I’m saying is—we can work this out—if you’re willing to risk it.” His eyes gazed deeply into hers. “Are you, Beth? Are you willing to take a chance on us?”

  Through her tears she grinned at him. “You can bet on it.”

  ***

  The next day, a few hours before her long-awaited graduation, Beth stopped at the university library to return a couple of books and to say a nostalgic goodbye to one of her favorite college haunts. She logged onto a computer to check her email and saw “Sender: Will Darcy.” The message line read: “Number 49 Rewrites Profile.”

  She clicked on it, of course. The permanent grin she wore today only broadened at the thought of “Her Man” staying up late to type this. He wrote:

  To the Lady of my Heart, I seek someone with very specific qualities.

  First, she must have light-brown hair. I especially like long wild curls. And I insist upon a woman with chocolaty-brown eyes. No other color will do.

  Second, she must be passionate about her profession and be the kind of person who knows how to care for young and old alike. A social worker might be just the right career choice, in fact.

  Third, she must like coffee and cookies and movies and popcorn, but she absolutely should not like camping…although I’ll try to persuade her otherwise. A double sleeping bag in a tent can be really cozy when shared with someone other than a lizard. And, while I’d like to make a Cubs convert out of her, if she wrinkles up her cute nose at the thought of baseball games, I’ll still love her dearly.

  Fourth, she needs to be intelligent, loyal, compassionate and hardworking. I’d especially like it if The Woman Destined For Me possessed these traits.

  And, last but far from least, she must be mother to a bright and adorable six-year-old boy. This is a firm requirement.

  Do you qualify? If yes, and only if yes, please respond promptly. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.

  Your Hopeful Perfect Match.

  Beth hit the REPLY key.

  I’ve been waiting all my life for you, Dear Sir, she typed. Consider me yours. With love and hugs from me and best wishes from Lady Catherine.

  She pressed SEND, logged off and said a fond farewell to the life she was leaving behind. Then she immediately headed home to embrace her new one.

  ####

  About the Author:

  Marilyn Brant has been told she writes with honesty, liveliness and wit (descriptors she's grown terribly fond of) about complex, intelligent women—like her friends—and their significant personal relationships. Although her favorite pursuits undoubtedly involve books, she proves she's not just a literary snob by confessing her lifelong fascination (read: obsession) with popular music, especially from the '70s and '80s, most flavors of ice cream and a variety of sensuous body lotions/oils.

  Marilyn is the award-winning women's fiction author of ACCORDING TO JANE (2009), FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE (2010) and A SUMMER IN EUROPE (2011), all from Kensington Books. She also writes fun and flirty romantic comedies that involve sweet treats and large doses of humor. Her novel ON ANY GIVEN SUNDAE was released on ebook in June 2011 and was a Kindle Top 100 Bestseller in Humor. DOUBLE DIPPING followed in September 2011 and was a finalist for Best Contemporary Novel in the 2012 International Digital Awards. HOLIDAY MAN (November 2012) was just released, and PRIDE, PREJUDICE AND THE PERFECT MATCH (January 2013) will be hitting the digital bookshelves soon. Please look for more of Marilyn’s ebook exclusives in the months ahead!

  As a former teacher, library staff member, freelance magazine writer and national book reviewer, Marilyn has spent much of her life lost in literature. Her debut novel, ACCORDING TO JANE, featuring the ghost of Jane Austen giving a young woman dating advice, won the Romance Writers of America's prestigious Golden Heart Award, and it was selected as one of the “Top 100 Romance Novels of All Time” by Buzzle.com. Her second novel, FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE, was a Doubleday and Book-of-the-Month Club pick. And A SUMMER IN EUROPE was featured in the Literary Guild and BOMC2, and it became a Top 20 Bestseller in “Fiction and Literature” for the Rhapsody Book Club. The Polish translation rights recently sold as well, and that edition will be coming in July/August 2013.

  She currently lives in the Chicago suburbs with her family. When she isn't reading her friends’ books or watching old movies, she's working on her next novel, eating chocolate indiscriminately and hiding from the laundry.

  Included below are details and an excerpt from another Austen-inspired story, Marilyn’s acclaimed debut novel, ACCORDING TO JANE (October 2009), which not only won RWA’s Golden Heart Award, but it was also a Booksellers’ Best Award Winner and a #1 Kindle Bestseller:

  ABOUT THE BOOK:

  In Marilyn Brant's smart, wildly inventive debut, one woman in search of herself receives advice from the ultimate e
xpert in matters of the heart...

  It begins one day in sophomore English class, just as Ellie Barnett's teacher is assigning Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. From nowhere comes a quiet "tsk" of displeasure. The target: Sam Blaine, the cute bad boy who's teasing Ellie mercilessly, just as he has since kindergarten. Entirely unbidden, as Jane might say, the author's ghost has taken up residence in Ellie's mind, and seems determined to stay there.

  Jane's wise and witty advice guides Ellie through the trauma of adolescence and beyond, serving as the voice she trusts, usually more than her own. Years and boyfriends come and go, but Jane's counsel is constant, and on the subject of Sam, quite insistent. Stay away, Jane demands. He is your Mr. Wickham.

  Still, everyone has something to learn about love--perhaps even Jane herself. And lately, the voice in Ellie's head is being drowned out by another, urging her to look beyond all she thought she knew and seek out her very own, very unexpected, happy ending...

  PRAISE:

  “A warm, witty and charmingly original story.” -- Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “A charming book.” -- Family Circle Magazine

  “Brant infuses her sweetly romantic and delightfully clever tale with just the right dash of Austen-esque wit.” -- Chicago Tribune

  “What an unexpected, uplifting, and urbane debut novel! …Subtly powerful and amusingly acerbic, you will be gently reproved into agreeing in the power of love to transform us all.” -- Laurel Ann Nattress, Austenprose and editor of Jane Austen Made Me Do It

  “Fresh, original, and lots of fun.” -- Barnes & Noble Review

  EXCERPT:

  I watched the taillights of Dominic’s Pontiac fade away into the distance, and I thought about our deteriorating relationship. Who I was. Who he was. Where we were going. Or not going. I’d almost broken up with him an hour before, but I’d held on. Why, why, why?

  Perhaps it is because you feel lonely? Jane suggested.

  Yeah.

  And because you are about to embark on something unknown next month--your graduate studies at a new university--and you crave the familiar?

  Yeah. That, too.

  And, additionally, because you will be two-and-twenty next week and wish to celebrate it with someone dear to you?

  I didn’t speak, but I nodded. I should’ve known Jane Austen would figure it out. She’d been my constant companion, my most secret friend for years. She spoke only in the silence of my mind, but she knew me as no one else could...or wanted to.

  All will turn out right, Ellie, she said softly. Trust in yourself and in your instincts. You have a strong intuition about the honor and character of others. It is stronger, perhaps, than you realize, and it gains further strength with time and experience. Do not despair.

  Thanks, Jane, I whispered, fighting back the despair that curled in my stomach nevertheless.

  So, a week later, when I found myself sitting at that same Chicago bar Dominic and his pals always dragged me to, after being promised a "romantic birthday dinner for two" we were already thirty minutes late for, I took a good long look around me:

  I was in a place I didn’t want to be, with people who talked about big change but did nothing.

  I was dating a man who, while attractive and reasonably intelligent, didn’t appreciate me, and who was also part leech.

  I was exactly twenty-two (as of 8:28 that morning), unmarried, inhaling secondhand smoke, bored, frustrated and hungry.

  The evening couldn’t get any worse.

  I grabbed my second white wine at the bar and took a turn about the room—sipping my drink, chitchatting idly and privately with Jane, glancing at the framed autographs hanging crookedly on the walls and contemplating Dominic’s untimely death.

  The driving beat of a Def Leppard song came on, competing with the ambient noise, and I felt a gust of hot summer wind next to me as the front door swung open. The woman who walked through it was about my age and height, only really stunning. Her hair was a long, soft auburn that curled at the ends like some L’Oréal hair-color model. She seemed as gleeful walking into The Bitter Tap as I’d be if I could walk out of it. A tall, dark-haired man followed her inside, and I looked away.

  Then I looked back.

  Holy shit.

  There’d been times since high school ended, times over the past four years—indeed, a great many times—when I’d wondered what I’d say or do if I ever ran into the loathsome Sam Blaine again.

  I imagined myself holding my head high and carrying on with whatever I was doing without acknowledging his presence.

  Or, I thought I might lift an elegant eyebrow in greeting and say with perfect indifference, “Is that you, Sam? I hardly recognized you. You look shorter.”

  Or, maybe, I’d be in the midst of laughing over something hysterically funny when someone else would break in and introduce us. I’d shake his hand and pretend not to remember him until he insisted we’d gone to kindergarten and all twelve grades of school together. And that we’d spent one really memorable night in each other’s arms...a night that had inexorably shaped my view of love. Then I’d reply with an amused, “Oh, yeah. Sam. That’s right. Sorry, your name slipped my mind.”

  That night, in sad reality, I stood utterly still and gaped at him.

  He moved toward me and, as recognition dawned, his handsome features contorted into a look of pure horror.

  My God. I must’ve looked pitiful.

  Turn away, Jane commanded. You need not speak to him.

  But I couldn’t make myself turn away.

  “Ellie?” he said.

  “Sam.” His name came out of my open mouth with a veritable squeak.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m surprised to see you. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  I laughed aloud, and Sam shot me an odd look. Yeah. Irony was a bitch.

  “Same here,” I said, though we both knew better. I pointed to the auburn-haired chick, who’d been watching our exchange curiously. “Your girlfriend?”

  He nodded and introduced me to “Camryn,” a fellow future medical student with sharp, assessing, green eyes in addition to all that TV-commercial-worthy hair.

  Dominic, of all people, chose this particular instant to stride up to us and lay his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, darlin’,” he said to me, but he fixed his gaze on Sam and Camryn. “We’ll be outta here in just a couple of minutes. Mick’s trying to find an article for me in his bag.”

  He pointed in his buddies’ direction where Mick alternately puffed on a cigarette and dug through a rumpled backpack. I knew this task would take another half hour at least.

  “We’ve gotta get you to your birthday dinner,” Dominic continued, punctuating his bald-faced lie with a possessive squeeze.

  I forced a grin at the jerk. “Take your time, um, sweetie.”

  Dominic looked back at me, his eyes widening in surprise. “Uh, thanks.” He nodded to the couple in front of us. “Hi. I’m Dominic, Ellie’s boyfriend. You guys old friends?”

  Camryn started to shake her head, but Sam said, “Yeah,” before she or I could reply. “Very old,” he added.

  “Yep. Ancient-history old.” I smiled toothily at the other three and took a long swig of my wimpy wine. Crap. I wanted a margarita now, heavy on the Jose Cuervo Gold. If ever there was a time for strong drinks, this was it.

  Do whatever you must, Jane said, with hot fury in her voice, but get away from that despicable man.

  I wanted to listen to her. I really did. But my feet were rooted to the spot for the duration.

  Camryn’s gaze ping-ponged between her boyfriend's face and mine. Her green eyes narrowed. “Pleasure meeting you both,” she said to Dominic and me, her gritted teeth indicating her definitive lack of enthusiasm. “But I’ve been waiting all day for a daiquiri, so, we’ll see you later. Enjoy your birthday...Emmy.”

  “It’s Ellie,” Sam said, beating me to it.

  Camryn cast him a lethal look and began to walk away.

 
Hmm. So that was how it was.

  Sam opened his mouth but then closed it again. He lifted his arm up in a half wave and followed his girlfriend to the bar.

  Dominic squinted after them, turned back to me and shot me a puzzled look before rejoining his friends.

  Jane, who'd begun ranting with fervor since Sam appeared on the scene, scarcely paused for a breath between words. How insupportable! What an insufferable creature! The nerve of him to cross your path again after what he did!

  I let her continue her tirade of antiquated English insults a while longer as I gulped the rest of my drink. It was going to take an Act of God to stop me from getting one very necessary and immediate jumbo birthday margarita. I pushed the smoky air out of my lungs, scanned for a good spot to squeeze in at the bar and edged up to the corner of it...

  Below are some book details and a few excerpts from three of Marilyn’s popular contemporary romances, which are available in multiple digital formats:

  An Excerpt from ON ANY GIVEN SUNDAE (June 2011)

  In this light romantic comedy involving a shy dessert cookbook writer and a former football star, Brant takes us to an ice cream parlor in small-town Wisconsin where two people who couldn’t be more different from each other find themselves falling in love...

  Elizabeth rarely swore aloud but, in her mind, she was cursing not just a blue streak, but also a red, orange, yellow and green streak. She was, in fact, well on her way to a complete blasphemous rainbow, and Rob Gabinarri hadn’t even arrived yet.

  Of all people. She never thought she’d have to make it through so much as a ten-minute soda pop break with him again. The boy who’d broken her heart and didn’t even know it.

  Or maybe he did know it.

  She couldn’t decide which was the greater tragedy.

  A snazzy red Porsche convertible squealed to a stop behind her sensible blue Toyota Camry, and the town’s Golden Boy stepped out of the car and into the empty confectionary shop.