Excerpt
“TELL ME SOMETHING. DID IT
HURT?” The guy I’d known for less than fifteen seconds leaned his hairless,
muscular arms on the sticky wooden table, his blue eyes dancing.
I blinked,
trying to understand his question. “Did what
hurt, exactly?”
“You know,
when you fell down to Earth from Heaven.” Satisfied with his pick-up line, he
sat back against the vinyl booth seat, flicked his ’seventies Bee Gees hair,
and raised his eyebrows in expectation.
I did an
internal eye roll. That had to be the tackiest line I’d heard tonight—and I was
afraid to report, I’d heard a few. There was something about the short amount
of time you got in speed dating that brought out the cheesy in these guys.
I was
beginning to regret ever having agreed to this.
I forced a
smile. “Oh, sure. I get it. I’m an angel who fell to Earth. That’s a good one.”
I tried not to allow the sleaze-factor crawl across my skin.
Oh, how I
wished this whole thing could be over and I could go home, throw on Netflix,
and eat leftover cake from the Cozy Cottage Café. So much better than having to listen to guys like this one try to
“charm me.”
“Shame I
wasn’t there to catch you. I’m very strong, you know.” He flexed his bulging
muscles, just to make sure I got the message.
“I bet.”
Satisfied
with my response, he flashed me a row of perfect pearly whites as he stroked
his chin. His thick, designer five-o’clock shadow must have felt like
sandpaper.
I glanced
over at my friends sitting at the bar—Cassie, Paige, and Marissa—working hard
at pretending not to watch my every move. I gotta tell you, they weren’t doing
a good job. As soon as they noticed me glaring at them, all three of them
snapped their heads away, focusing on anything but me.
Thanks a lot, girls.
Still, I
could only blame myself for the predicament I found myself in, sitting across
from this guy, listening to his dreadful pick-up lines. You see, I was at this
speed dating event down at O’Dowd’s Pub because I was trying to find my Last
First Date.
Yes, that’s
right. I was trying to find the last man I’d ever go out with. The man I would
marry. Although right now, I’d have preferred to forget the whole darn thing.
Why was I
subjecting myself to this torture, you may ask? It’s a good question, and one
that had me glancing at the exit with longing in my eyes.
It’s a long
story. Suffice it to say, I’d agreed to a pact with those three friends of mine
at the bar to marry the next guy I dated—just like they had.
Totally insane,
right? Certifiable, even. Well, optimistic
at the very least.
But
whatever a shrink might have to say about it, it meant I needed to find Mr.
Right, which was what I was trying to do tonight. And he had to be Mr.
Right—not Mr. Okay, Mr. He’ll Do, or even Mr. Right For Now.
No way.
I wasn’t
settling for anything less than the absolute perfect guy for me. Because I’d
already been there with the guy I thought was
perfect for me, the one I planned on spending my life with.
Yet here I
sat, single, alone, still looking for love.
The good
news was that the pact had worked for Cassie, Paige, and Marissa. All three of
them were happily and blissfully in love with their respective guys.
Now, it was
my turn. Although looking at the Bee Gees wannabe across the table from me, I
was having serious second thoughts
about the whole darn thing.
I clenched
my fists under the table, determined to turn this conversation around. I
decided to change it to something less . . . icky.
I cleared
my throat. “You sound British. Are you?”
“I am.
London, born and bred,” he replied, tilting his chin up and puffing out his
chest. His accent definitely sounded cockney, more like Michael Cain than Hugh
Grant.
“I love
London. What do you do, ah—” I glanced down at the name tag clipped to his
white open-necked shirt, “—Jamie?”
He leant
back in. “Actually, I’m going to let you in on a little secret, darlin‘.”
I pressed
my lips together. If his opening line was anything to go by, I wasn’t so sure I
wanted to hear one of his “little secrets.”
“Jamie’s
not my real name.”
“Oh?” I
wondered why he chose not to have his actual name on a name tag at a speed
dating event.
He shook
his head. “He’s my idol, you see. Jamie Oliver.”
That piqued my interest. “Really?
I adore Jamie Oliver!”
He
shrugged. “A lot of people do. I’m a chef. Pretty famous where I’m from,
actually.” He shot me a self-satisfied look.
“Famous,
huh?”
What was he
doing speed dating at O’Dowd’s Pub in downtown Auckland, literally on the other
side of the world, if he was famous?
“Yeah, it’s
a bit of a drag. I used to get fans throwing themselves at me. Female fans,
usually, of course.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say “see how desirable I
am?”
I didn’t.
Instead, I
had an image of a group of frenzied women lunging themselves at him, a
frightened look on his face as he scrambled to get away. I had to stifle a giggle.
“That’s why
I’m here, you see. I want to meet someone real, someone who doesn’t know me or
my work. Know what I mean?”
“Well, I
don’t know you or your work, Jamie.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes dropped to my chest and lingered there. I self-consciously pulled at
my top.
I glanced
down at the checklist of questions I’d prepared for tonight. With only four
minutes per “date,” I’d decided I wanted to make the conversation as targeted
as possible—without making the guys feel like they were being interrogated by the
S.S.
Well, maybe
a little interrogated. This was meant
to be my Last First Date, after all.
I looked
back up at Fake Jamie—although with the flicked hair and square jaw he looked
much more like a Fabio-wannabe than the chef. “So, tell me, with the limited
time we have right now, what do you want me to know about you?”
Clearly not your name . . .
I’d gotten
that question from a list on the Internet. I liked it because it wasn’t your
usual “what do you do for a living” and “where are you from” line of questioning.
And it would hopefully tell me something a little more interesting about each
of these men I was meeting tonight.
I sat back
and waited for the cheese to ooze right out of him.
I wasn’t
disappointed.
“Only that
you’re the most beautiful woman in this room, and if you don’t let me take you
home tonight, I think I may die.” His eyes slid down to my chest once more
where they remained for some time.
Really, I
could’ve vomited.
I smiled
weakly at him. Four minutes with this guy suddenly felt like a lifetime.
He reached
across the table and placed his hand on top of mine. It was warm and clammy. In
the interests of being polite, I resisted the urge to pull away—and apply a
serious amount of hand sanitizer.
“Bailey.
That’s such a beautiful name.”
“Thank
you.” I slipped my hand out from under his, shooting him a smile.
“Are you
named after the milky liqueur?”
The
liqueur? Was he crazy? Who named
their child after an alcoholic drink?
“Ah, no.
It’s a family name. From my dad’s side.”
“So, our
firstborn daughter could be ‘Bailey,’ too.”
Our what? Man, this guy was laying it on by
the shovel load.
I laughed
nervously, my eyes darting over to my friends once more. Cassie gave me a
hopeful look, her hesitant “thumbs up” gesture completely at odds with the way
I felt about Fake Jamie—his blatant advances and Fabio looks.
Not that I
had anything against this Fabio slash Fake Jamie guy, of course, but I didn’t
think I wanted to date him. Let alone have children with him.
My eyes
drifted from Cassie to a tall, imposing man standing beside Marissa. After a
moment, I recognized him, my tummy doing an involuntary flip as my eyes glided
over him. Ryan Jones, Marissa’s older brother. He didn’t look like he did when
I last saw him. Sure, he was just as tall, broad, and athletic looking, just as
cute—not that I’d noticed any of that before of course.
Oh, okay, I
had noticed. In my defense, it was
hard not to notice a guy like Ryan. Tall, wide shouldered, handsome, charming.
You got the picture.
He was
dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his
strong arms. That hadn’t changed. But
now, his dirty blonde hair was longer than before, sexier, like he’d just
messed it up absent-mindedly with his fingers. He was also sporting a new
close-cut beard. And it suited him.
I bit my
lip.
Put a
hammer in his hand and he’d look like freaking Thor.
The last
time I’d seen Ryan Jones was the night Marissa had performed a song for her
Last First Date, Nash, at my café. Ryan had flirted with me and made me smile.
I didn’t think much of it at the time. You see, he’d flirted with me once
before and nothing had come of it. I figured it didn’t mean anything.
Although
I’d wished it had.
His eyes
found mine, and he flashed his handsome grin. I smiled back before tearing my
eyes back to my “date.”
“Umm, I’m
not sure we should get that far ahead of ourselves. You know, selecting names
for our first born,” I said.
There would
be no firstborns called Bailey—or anything else with this guy for that matter.
And I could tell you one thing right now; there wouldn’t even be a second date.
Mercifully,
the bell rang, indicating our speed date had come to an end.
I smiled at
him across the table. “Nice to meet you Fa-Jamie.” I pressed my lips together,
glad I caught the nickname I’d given him in my head before it completely
escaped my lips.
“You too,
beautiful Bailey.” He reached across the table for my hand, but there was no
way I was letting his clammy mitts get ahold of me again. Instead, his hand
made contact with my elbow which, rather weirdly, he didn’t let go of.
Awkward much?
“I’ll be
back later to take you home.” His gaze was intense.
I let out a
small shudder.
Before I
could say “vomit bag,” another guy materialized at my table. He shot us a
puzzled look, and I couldn’t blame him. You didn’t see a man awkwardly holding
a woman’s elbow over a table every day of the week.
“Ah, I
think you’re needed at the next one, mate,” New Guy said, nodding at the table
beside mine where a petite blonde woman with a top that plunged almost to her
navel was seated.
Fake Jamie
glanced over at the woman, who smiled back at him. In a flash, he dropped my
elbow and sauntered over to her table, flicking his Bee Gees hair as he went.
I let out a
relieved puff of air and glanced at the woman, hoping she could manage him
better than I had.
New Guy sat
down in the now-vacant spot, and the whole thing started over again.
“Hey, I’m
Adam.” He reached across and we shook hands. “And you’re—” He glanced at my
nametag then back up into my eyes. “Bailey.”
Already,
things were off to a better start than the previous four minutes of my life.
Which, let’s face it, wasn’t exactly hard.
“Hi, Adam.
It’s great to meet you.” I flashed a smile, more than a little relieved this
guy seemed normal—so far, anyway.
And did I
mention quite cute, too?
“So, shall
we begin? I mean we only have four minutes,” Adam said.
“Exactly.”
“Right.
Bailey, what’s the one thing about
yourself you would like me to know?”
I let out a laugh. “That’s my question!”
“Really?” His smile was broad, and I noticed how open
and kind his face was. He wasn’t Hollywood-star handsome, with his slightly
receding hairline and eyebrows a beauty therapist would have a field day with,
but he seemed nice—and a million miles from Fake Jamie’s creepiness.
“I just
asked that last guy the very same question. His answer was . . . how do I put
this?”
“Too
smooth?” Adam replied.
Adam and I
both glanced over at the adjacent couple where Fake Jamie was leaning across
the table and had taken the petite blonde woman’s hands in his. I guessed he
was delivering the same lines as he had to me. She looked about as enthralled
as I had been.
Poor girl.
Adam
returned his attention to me. “I should be honest with you. I did some research
online to find questions for this speed dating thing. You see, I’ve not done it
before, and my friends kind of pushed me into it.”
I glanced
across at my own friends, sipping their wine and being about as subtle as a
sledgehammer as they watched me and Adam on our “date.”
“You know what?
I can relate to that.”
“You got
railroaded into this, too, huh?”
I shrugged.
“Kind of. It was my friend Marissa’s suggestion, but I guess I’m the one
sitting here, right?”
“Right.” He
smiled, and I couldn’t help but return it.
This is going well. Maybe
Marissa was right? Maybe “going old school” by speed dating instead of using
those dating apps or sites was the right thing to do?
“Anyway, to
answer your question, I guess I would like you to know that I’m here genuinely
looking for someone.”
His smile
grew. “That’s good to know. Me too. Or, at least, I am now.”
Unlike with
Fake Jamie, the compliment didn’t have even a whiff of cheese to it. In fact,
it was . . . nice.
“Ready for
my next question? I’ve got a huge list.” He laughed.
“Sure. Fire
away.”
“What are
you most proud of?”
“Great
question! I hadn’t seen that one.”
“Thanks.
It’s all in a day’s work.”
“Okay, I
guess it would have to be my business.”
“What do
you do?”
“I run a
café, and I love it.” I thought of the Cozy Cottage Café and smiled. I’d been
running it with Paige, my dear, sweet friend, for some time now, and we had
taken it to new heights. We were always busy, feeding and watering the masses
in our homely, welcoming café.
“A café?
Nice. I like coffee. And eating.”
I laughed.
“Well, you should stop by some time.”
“What’s it
called?”
I told him
about the Cozy Cottage, and we continued to chat, the four minutes whizzing by.
All too soon, the bell sounded, and Adam got up to leave.
“I hope to
see you again.” The skin around his eyes crinkled as a smile lit up his face.
“You, too.”
I looked
over at the girls, all three giving me the thumbs up. I beamed at them. Perhaps
this speed dating thing hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all?
Four Last First Dates by Kate O'Keeffe
Series: Cozy Cottage Café #4
Published by Wild Lime Books on August 9, 2018
Genres: Romantic Comedy
What do you do when you’ve agreed to a pact with your friends to get married, but neither you nor the guy in your sights is quite ready to fall in love?
Bailey De Luca is the last of her friends to complete the Last First Date pact—to marry the next guy she dates. But lady luck must be in a bad mood, because so far, it's all come to nothing.
Everywhere she looks people are in love. Everyone except her. Is she fundamentally unlovable? Or is it that she’s already found—and lost—The One? Whatever the reason, one thing's for sure: Bailey never expected to be alone at thirty.
When one of her friends announces her engagement with a rock that could eclipse the sun, Bailey throws herself into a new business. Starting up Cozy Cottage Catering seems like the perfect way to bury her head in the sand. But fate has other ideas, and soon Bailey is swept off her feet by the oh-so cute Ryan Jones.
Ryan may seem like the perfect combination of Prince Charming meets Thor (without the hammer), but is Bailey ready to be with him?
Or will the ghost of her past love prevent her from finding happiness again?
Escape to New Zealand in this fun, feel-good sweet romance.
Books in the Cozy Cottage Café series:
Book 1: One Last First Date
Book 2: Two Last First Dates
Book 3: Three Last First Dates
Book 4: Four Last First Dates
About Kate O’Keeffe
Kate O’Keeffe is a bestselling author of fun, feel-good romantic comedies. She lives and loves in beautiful Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand with her family, two scruffy dogs, and a cat who thinks he’s a scruffy dog too. He’s not: he’s a cat. When she’s not penning her latest story, Kate can be found hiking up hills (slowly), travelling to different countries, and eating chocolate. A lot of it.
Kate has written the Amazon bestsellers the Cozy Cottage Café series, the popular chick lit stories, the Wellywood Romantic Comedy series, as well as some standalone titles.
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