Read Online Man of the Month (Willowdale Romance Novel) by Lisa Scott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Scott
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p.m. sharp.”
He smacked his hands together. “Awesome. I’ll print up some flyers, get the word out online.”
“And in honor of Anti-Valentine’s Day, I’m assuming we can skip Mr. March?”
“No way. A New Year’s Resolution is practically an unbreakable legal agreement.”
God, he loved teasing her. Her face turned the slightest shade of pink when she got angry. Totally adorable.
She groaned low in her throat. “Since you seem to be intent on torturing me, could I just schedule a root canal instead of this month’s blind date?” Jeanne asked, pounding the pie dough much harder than she needed. “Would that suffice?”
“Only if the dentist is single.”
Jeanne shook her head. “It’s Doc Miller.”
“Married, and pushing seventy, right?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already got someone lined up for you.”
“Yay.” She twirled a finger in the air.
Brad held up a floured hand. “This one’s good. Employed. No allergies—I asked. Has two cats, and get this—he’s got two kids, too. Since that’s . . . really important to you.”
“Kids, huh?”
“Sound good? Maybe March will be your lucky month with St. Patrick’s Day and all.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugged a few times, like she had a tic.
“But first, we celebrate Anti-Valentine’s Day.”
JEANNE TUGGED the strap of her little black dress back into place. The banquet room had a good-sized crowd Valentine’s night, and even Tara O’Hara had shown up—the only gal in Willowdale to ever have an honest-to-God coming out debutante ball. Her mama had had all the guests wear Civil War period clothes to match her estate—a perfect replica of the house from Gone with the Wind . Every town had a nutter—Willowdale had a few—and Sarah O’Hara was one of them, and certainly the most eccentric of the bunch, with all that money to throw around.
Tara’s bound to take over the role when her mama dies someday , Jeanne thought.
And that’s why she cringed when Tara showed up at the party, certain she’d find something to criticize.
While Tara coolly surveyed the bash, in no time she was taking a whack at the black heart piñata and throwing darts at heart-shaped balloons tacked up to a bulletin board. What was good enough for Tara O’Hara was usually good enough for folks around Willowdale, and soon everyone was having a blast, enjoying their sumptuous desserts—those broken-heart cookies, fortune cookies with slips offering bad dating advice, Brad’s lava love cakes.
Ned from the Weekly Saver was there, snapping pictures for the paper and flirting with Dolly. Seemed like anyone who was single was there. Even a few of the seniors from the residential facility had bribed the center’s driver to load them in a van and bring them over. Marge moved a lot faster than seemed possible when single men were around.
Brad had compiled a mix of bad love songs— Bad Medicine , Love Stinks —lots of tormented tunes, but Jeanne had made one too, featuring irresistible, romantic ballads. She figured folks flocking to an anti-Valentine’s Day party might actually be looking for the real thing. So she swapped out Brad’s mix for her own. Then she lowered the lights and flipped on a fog machine she’d picked up cheap at a flea market. Mist swirled on the floor as Elvis couldn’t help falling in love in the background, but the guests just looked around nervously.
Brad scooted over to her and set down the tray of cookies he was refilling. “What are you doing?”
Jeanne crossed her arms and frowned. “Trying to set the mood. And failing.”
“It’s an anti-Valentine’s Day party. Love Me Tender is exactly the mood we’re trying to set here. Everyone here is down on love.”
“ Can’t Help Falling In Love ,” she said.
He blinked at her. “What? With who?”
She whacked his arm. “That’s the name of this song. And this party is the perfect get together for a few setups. I thought Mr. Matchmaker would
He smacked his hands together. “Awesome. I’ll print up some flyers, get the word out online.”
“And in honor of Anti-Valentine’s Day, I’m assuming we can skip Mr. March?”
“No way. A New Year’s Resolution is practically an unbreakable legal agreement.”
God, he loved teasing her. Her face turned the slightest shade of pink when she got angry. Totally adorable.
She groaned low in her throat. “Since you seem to be intent on torturing me, could I just schedule a root canal instead of this month’s blind date?” Jeanne asked, pounding the pie dough much harder than she needed. “Would that suffice?”
“Only if the dentist is single.”
Jeanne shook her head. “It’s Doc Miller.”
“Married, and pushing seventy, right?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already got someone lined up for you.”
“Yay.” She twirled a finger in the air.
Brad held up a floured hand. “This one’s good. Employed. No allergies—I asked. Has two cats, and get this—he’s got two kids, too. Since that’s . . . really important to you.”
“Kids, huh?”
“Sound good? Maybe March will be your lucky month with St. Patrick’s Day and all.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugged a few times, like she had a tic.
“But first, we celebrate Anti-Valentine’s Day.”
JEANNE TUGGED the strap of her little black dress back into place. The banquet room had a good-sized crowd Valentine’s night, and even Tara O’Hara had shown up—the only gal in Willowdale to ever have an honest-to-God coming out debutante ball. Her mama had had all the guests wear Civil War period clothes to match her estate—a perfect replica of the house from Gone with the Wind . Every town had a nutter—Willowdale had a few—and Sarah O’Hara was one of them, and certainly the most eccentric of the bunch, with all that money to throw around.
Tara’s bound to take over the role when her mama dies someday , Jeanne thought.
And that’s why she cringed when Tara showed up at the party, certain she’d find something to criticize.
While Tara coolly surveyed the bash, in no time she was taking a whack at the black heart piñata and throwing darts at heart-shaped balloons tacked up to a bulletin board. What was good enough for Tara O’Hara was usually good enough for folks around Willowdale, and soon everyone was having a blast, enjoying their sumptuous desserts—those broken-heart cookies, fortune cookies with slips offering bad dating advice, Brad’s lava love cakes.
Ned from the Weekly Saver was there, snapping pictures for the paper and flirting with Dolly. Seemed like anyone who was single was there. Even a few of the seniors from the residential facility had bribed the center’s driver to load them in a van and bring them over. Marge moved a lot faster than seemed possible when single men were around.
Brad had compiled a mix of bad love songs— Bad Medicine , Love Stinks —lots of tormented tunes, but Jeanne had made one too, featuring irresistible, romantic ballads. She figured folks flocking to an anti-Valentine’s Day party might actually be looking for the real thing. So she swapped out Brad’s mix for her own. Then she lowered the lights and flipped on a fog machine she’d picked up cheap at a flea market. Mist swirled on the floor as Elvis couldn’t help falling in love in the background, but the guests just looked around nervously.
Brad scooted over to her and set down the tray of cookies he was refilling. “What are you doing?”
Jeanne crossed her arms and frowned. “Trying to set the mood. And failing.”
“It’s an anti-Valentine’s Day party. Love Me Tender is exactly the mood we’re trying to set here. Everyone here is down on love.”
“ Can’t Help Falling In Love ,” she said.
He blinked at her. “What? With who?”
She whacked his arm. “That’s the name of this song. And this party is the perfect get together for a few setups. I thought Mr. Matchmaker would
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