Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’m on it,” she says with a crisp nod. Pink streaks of once-blonde hair poke out from under her rainbow-striped beanie. She hits a button on her keyboard, opening up the polls for pre-date voting while I take over the talking.
“And feel free, friends, to weigh in on whether I’ll make it to a third date or even a fourth one. But I’m telling everyone, and especially you,” I say, pointing at Monroe with a firm stare, “that I’m breaking my string of bad dates tonight. Want to know why?”
Monroe leans back in the chair, linking his hands behind his head, his eyes twinkling. Even the scar on his chin looks amused. “I really do.”
I sit up straight with determination, visualizing the date unfolding wonderfully. “Because the guy and I planned this evening together. We’ve picked something we both want to do. We’re already vibing. In fact, I bet we have so much fun tonight that the date lasts longer than planned.” Ha, take that, Monroe. “Like a first date and a second date all in one. It’s the extend-a-date plan.”
“Wait. Wait. You’re claiming this combo date is a thing.”
“Yes,” I say, chin up, bravado on.
Monroe shakes his head, his gaze calling bullshit. “You don’t count a longer-than-expected first date as a second date. There’s no such thing as a two-in-one combo date.”
Sadie chuckles, winking at me. “Tell that to my girlfriend and me.”
I smile at her. “See, it is a thing,” I tell Monroe. Then I switch to an exaggeratedly gentle voice. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve been out there, Monroe, but try to stay with me here. It’s called…ExtraDate.”
There’s a curious pause from him. Brief. Then he says, “An ExtraDate, then. Okay. Fine.” Monroe’s smile is even more challenging than usual. “Care to bet on it, Juliet?”
From her producer’s chair, Sadie whistles. “Oh, he went there.”
A bet on how long my date will last? This is new. I won’t back down from a dating challenge though.
“Sure. Bring it on,” I say, wiggling my fingers his way.
“Fine. If it lasts more than an hour, you can ask me any personal question you want on air.”
Sadie’s jaw drops.
Me? I just blink. Monroe is serious. Those are real stakes. He hates personal questions. Ironic for a guy known as the Love Doctor, who started this advice call-in podcast meant to hit every stage of a relationship, from the matching to the dispatching. There has to be a catch. “And you’ll really answer any question?”
Without hesitation, he says, “Yes. I will.” Then, in a voice peppered with innuendo, he adds, “I never leave a woman hanging.”
My brain whirs with questions I could volley at him in our next episode. Like, what do you really think when you walk into a date? Or what are you hoping for when you swipe? Or maybe do you ever think about that night we spent together years ago? The night you definitely didn’t leave me hanging?
But I probably won’t ask that one. Because I certainly don’t think about that night with my brother’s best friend. I’ve moved on. I’ll just ask one of the other questions. No big deal.
“I’m in,” I say, accepting the challenge. Not only do I want to win, but I do want this date to work, dammit.
“And what do I get if I’m right?”
“You won’t be,” I answer.
“But what if he is?” Sadie puts in, the college-age producer herding two unruly cats.
“Fair question,” I concede, then turn my gaze back to Monroe, ready to make my own offer. “Fine, then you can ask me anything.”
I make it sound like a generous offer when, truthfully, I’m an open book. If Monroe takes this bet, he’s a fool.
But that gleam in his eyes turns a little mischievous, and he reaches a hand across the table. “Let’s do it.”
After we shake, Sadie handles the phones, taking a few calls from listeners. “And we’ve got Eleanor Longswallow on line one,” Sadie announces. “She says she has a very important question for the Heartbreakers and Matchmakers.”
I brighten as Sadie gives us the signal that our self-proclaimed superfan is on air. “Hey, cuties,” she says in a familiar, gravelly voice that feels like your grandma’s hug.
“Hi, bestie!” I say. “Please tell me you’re working on your tan.”
“And drinking mai tais,” Monroe adds.
“Only piña coladas for this old dame. Which brings me to my question—what should I pack for my…wait for it…honeymoon?”
I squeal. “He popped the question?” I’m giddy with excitement. We helped coach her through her burgeoning romance with the younger tennis instructor at her club. Guess it’s burgeoned.
“Please,” Eleanor chides. “I did. I don’t have time to waste waiting around for anyone. I asked my honey, and he said yes, and now we’re cruising around the world.”
“Congratulations!” I clap my hands together. “And as for what you should take on your honeymoon, I believe they say ‘less is more.’”