Live life as a date
Dating Blooper #1 The Spinach Profile What's your dating profile? It's not just your photo. It's also your story. Consider how bland a spinach salad tastes without a little dressing. Or how bleh cooked spinach is without a little oil and garlic. Here's a plate of plain old spinach. That’s your profile if you haven’t added a little balsamic vinegar, oil…
The two main characters, Dante and Sophie, are dining at his house. “I hope you’ll like our dinner.” “Why wouldn’t I? Are you a bad cook?” “Oh, I’m not much on cooking, but I’d like to learn. Signing up for a cooking class, in fact.” Dante had trouble looking me in the eye. The poor guy was nervous. Jack led the way into the kitchen. Wine glasses and the bottle opener sat waiting on the…
Meet Lucy, whose best friend Deon is about to pop in while she's baking. Is it a goodie he's after? Or something more? Or less? An excerpt from A Little Bit of Lust. Twelve days until summer vacation. Between spoonfuls of oatmeal, Lucy dictated her list of summer resolutions into the Reminders app on her phone. Birds chirped outside the open kitchen window where the scent of freshly mown grass hung in the air. A…
Lucy aimed her phone at Deon’s Patrick Dempsey hair. The young Patrick. “Throw your head back. Run your hand through your––” “No way.” “Come on. Unbutton a few buttons.” He’d been working out more, she could tell by the swell in his arms and chest. The nerd was looking good. “Stop it.” He held his hand up blocking her view. “You’re all gussied up for this eight-minute dating thing. I just wanted to mark…
“So, this is what it’s like being on a date with you.” Dana hesitated—caught herself. “This isn’t a date, is it? Her voice flattened and she took a sip of wine. “Oh, I’m not belittling your gesture, bringing me to this fine establishment. But it isn’t a date because you’re seeing that woman, aren’t you? The one you asked me for advice about.” Alex fidgeted. Idiot. Asking Dana how to recognize the signs a woman was interested––what had he been thinking? What could be more awkward? This.…
It was after six, and in the last fifteen minutes, I’d checked my watch three times, holding my wrist at lap level so Donald, my latest meet, wouldn’t notice. Nope, too busy texting. On my second glass of wine––we’d hit the early bird special, Donald’s suggestion––at a new fish place on the water, The Fin and Tater. The air surrounding us held the briny scent of fresh tuna and their specialty, fifteen potato dishes, from…
Internet meets are never this easy, the banter never this clever, the guy never this good looking. Something is wrong, but what?
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