Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’m sure you are.” She sighs. “Okay. I don’t have all night to stand here; I have to get you fed so I can get Tyler fed.”
I snort. “Oh sure. Rush home to feed your fiancé.”
With a laugh, she walks out of my office to finish the task of making my dinner so she can clean up—the back end of a woman leaving me is a familiar sight. I don’t have the best track record.
But I’m doing my best, which honestly is not all that remarkable, considering I haven’t had a single successful date. At the moment, I have the time to put into this, so what the hell am I doing wrong?
Landon says if I show my face and add my career—which happens to be as the best quarterback in the league—it will attract the wrong sort of person.
The thing is, I don’t know who the person is that I’m trying to attract yet! My plan: trial by error.
When you know, you know!
Bowing my head, I get back to swiping, a gob of pizza sauce smeared on my knuckles.
I lick it off, sadly noting I’ve eaten all the slices on my plate, before grinning down at a woman’s pleasant photo. She’s smiling at the camera, arms around a golden retriever; the caption above reads my only nephew.
Huh.
Cute.
Margot is active and 5 miles away! Swipe on her now! the app tells me.
For once, I take direction, swiping right without reading one word in her profile.
Hearts bubble up and flutter across my screen. Kissmet makes me feel as if I’ve made a wise choice with Margot, and my stomach drops when the words You’re a match! are announced on my tiny phone screen.
More praise!
This is fun.
Chapter 2
Margot
Having to date online gives me hives.
Literal hives.
I scratch at my chest, itches occurring every so often, typically when I’m nervous or stressed out or have anxiety. The task of judging men solely based on photographs and brief biographies is daunting. And time consuming.
And more often than not? Fruitless.
Like finding a needle in a haystack.
I lean my hip against the kitchen counter, lifting the phone closer to my face to make it easier to see the photos clearly before swiping left on several more men.
Swipe left.
Swipe left.
“At the rate I’m going, I’m going to get carpal tunnel and need surgery on my thumb,” I complain, squinting at a grainy picture of a man named Jacob, scrolling through his pics and frowning. “Apparently fishing is the only hobby you enjoy.”
Not that I don’t, but . . .
I cringe and swipe left.
Jacob meets the same fate as all the others, disappearing into the abyss.
All this unknown has my heart racing with excitement.
Apprehension.
Fear?
I glance at the time; it’s past six, and I have accomplished no tasks around the house.
“What the hell are you doing, Margot? Put the phone down and go be productive!”
My daughter, Wyatt, is with her grandparents but will be home soon enough.
It’s a school night, and when she arrives it will be bedtime for both of us. Wyatt is an early riser; her four alarm clocks, set each morning, are sure to have me moaning and groaning because I hear them go off from my bedroom, blaring loudly one by one.
Still, I don’t put my phone down.
I do not move from the counter.
With hesitant fingers, I go through the gallery on my cell, searching for a better image to upload as the main profile picture. It feels like I’ve done this one hundred times, but can you blame me for wanting to strike the right balance between approachable and confident?!
I want to look cute but not cutesy.
Sexy but not too sexy.
I give up and go back to Kissmet, resume scrolling through the endless stream of profiles, each one blending into the next with their generic taglines, staged photos, and cookie-cutter bios.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are . . . ,” I whisper, not being creepy at all. “Where are all the decent guys hiding?”
You know, the ones who aren’t going to murder me in my sleep?
Dear Lord, please show me the guys who are looking for stability and long term and not just a casual fling. I’ve never had a one-night stand and do not plan on having one now, not with a young daughter as part of the equation.
Specifically, a ten-year-old daughter who encouraged me to download the app to put myself out there. She reminds me daily to enjoy the process of online dating and to chill out, bro.
Yeah. My child calls me bro, tells me to chill and take it easy.
Easy?
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble. “Some of these people look as if they’re going to eat me alive.”
I scroll on, wishing like hell I had a bag of, like, cheddar puffs to munch on as I stand here, shifting on the heels of my feet.