Love at First Date (Better Date than Never, Book #1)

When it comes to men, I’m a practical girl. Well, woman. I just celebrated my thirtieth birthday last month. Anyway, stars and fireworks where guys are concerned? Total fantasy. I blame the movies for all that hype.

After two failed marriages, my mom learned with Hubby Number Three that lasting relationships are all about compatibility, which is why I recently signed up at Detailed Dating—a popular Sacramento online dating site. I’m going to save precious time (not to mention frustration and heartache) learning the 411 about a potential mate up front to see if we’ll make it for the long haul. Museums and musicals? Yes. Computer games and fantasy football? No, thanks.

After six weeks of email exchanges, I’ve narrowed it down to two prospects: lookn4luv and jusUnME. Both guys appear to have interests and goals compatible with mine, and our email exchanges have gone well, so I’m stoked about taking the next step in the Detailed Dating process by scheduling “face-to-face” coffee dates (separately, of course).

As I typed a customer complaint report on my computer at work, I was pondering which potential mate to date first when my best friend’s face popped over the cubicle partition between us.

“Ellen?” Rachel’s head tilted to the side and her brown hair fell against her cheek. “You got a sec?”

"Sure.” As she made her way over to me, I pushed my upcoming dates out of my mind, finished addressing Gilbert Watson’s claim that our software program had made his laptop go wonky (I used more professional terms, of course), then swiveled in my office chair to face her. “What’s up? You can’t complain about work yet. It’s only Monday afternoon.”

“Very funny.” She strode to my desk, picked up my Detailed Dating pen, which was emblazoned with hearts, and started clicking it open and closed obsessively.

I eyed her closely. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Her voice strained too emphatically for me to buy. “Everything’s great. I mean, Chester’s had a hard time adjusting to the move and all, but he’s doing better for sure.”

She had recently moved into her own apartment in lieu of the rental house she’d been sharing with roommates. But, hello? What difference should that make to her pooch? “Honestly, Rach. You worry too much about Chester’s mental stability. He’s a dog. As long as he has food and water, he’s fine. Stop worrying.”

“Pfft.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Who’s worried?”

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. Something was definitely up. Rachel had adopted her miniature beagle a few months ago and treated him like a king. Although she’d wanted her own place for eons, she now felt selfish for uprooting him from the home he’d known and loved.

Spare me.

“Whatever’s going on, dish.” I gestured toward the overloaded in-box on my desk. “I’ve got a stack of customer complaints the VPs want me to get through before lunch.”

“Well, since you brought up Chester . . . ” She used a tone that suggested she’d suddenly thought of something. “Perhaps you’d like to come over tonight and bond with him. He’d love a little one-on-one auntie time since he feels so bad about Saturday.”

I glanced down at the gorgeous pair of heeled boots on my feet. I’d only worn them once before her mutt had gnawed on them like his own personal rawhide. “Honestly, Rachel, are you trying to hurt me? You know how expensive these were.”

“Ellen, you have to forgive him. I mean, how’s my sweet puppy supposed to know the difference between a pair of shoes and a chew toy?” She eyed the savage marks in my leather boots and grimaced. “I’ll buy you a new pair when we get paid Friday.”