Blurb:
Annabeth is a hopeless romantic who believes in soul mates. In fact, she’s been writing to hers each year on her birthday since she was 16.
Now, at 34, she’s still holding out hope of finding Mr. Right even though he’d be fighting an uphill battle to gain her trust, thanks to a traumatic experience years before that’s left her unable to commit.
When Annabeth meets a handsome literature professor named Alex on her 34th birthday, she thinks her quest may finally be at an end. Things don’t quite go as planned, so Annabeth resolves to do everything she can over the next year to find the unknown recipient of her letters. But blind dates, Meetup events and online singles sites have nothing on what fate has in store for her when a co-worker unexpectedly quits and Annabeth finds herself working in close quarters with both Alex and her long ago ex, Nick. Fighting her attraction to one and loathing for the other, Annabeth is forced to face all of her old insecurities while keeping an eye on a scheming frienemy who may derail her hopes and dreams.
Written in the tradition of Bridget Jones’ Diary, Kim Gruenfelder’s A Total Waste of Makeup, and Melissa Pimental’s Love By The Book, it shows that love on the sweet side can exist for the modern girl, if only she’s willing to trust herself and search hard enough.
Been Searching for You was the winner of the 2015 Romance Writers of America Great Expectations and Golden Rose contests.
Excerpt:
Ever since I was a teenager and Angela Chase, the main character on the teen drama My So-Called Life, said she equated the ticking of the 60 Minutes clock to the end of the weekend, I’ve hated Sunday nights. But none quite so much as this one.
Not only was I facing the first morning of the new regime at work, but Alex was leaving for the conference too. I was so nervous that not even two glasses of wine could steady me. Alex, on the other hand, was the definition of calm and collected, watching TV as if this was any other night. It was driving me crazy. Finally, I kicked him gently in the ankle.
That got his attention. “Ow! What was that for?”
“How can you possibly be so calm? Your interview is tomorrow morning. Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“Because you’re doing that enough for both of us.” He grinned and pulled me down next to him, pinning my hands behind my back and covering my face in kisses.
By the time he came up for air, I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I was going to wait to give this to you, but it looks like you need it now.” He fished a long, thin rectangular block out of the pocket of his tan wool sweater and presented it to me.
When I looked closer, I realized it was one of those weekly pill boxes that older people keep their daily medications in so they know if they took them or not. “You’re giving me drugs?”
“No. I’ll leave it to you to medicate yourself. Open the one for today.”
I popped open the lid on the far left marked with a capital S for Sunday. A small folded piece of paper jumped out at me, leaving a bed of dark chocolate Mini Kisses behind. I opened the page and read. “‘This note entitles the bearer to a single wish fulfilled.’”
Alex leaned over and whispered a few racy suggestions in my ear.
My face flushed in response. “I’m up for that.”
He pried my fingers from around the pill box. “And that’s just the beginning. Each day has a little surprise in it to help you get through the week since I won’t be here to help you in person.”
I placed a hand on the side of his face and kissed him. “This has to be the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me. How in the world did you think of it?”
“I could lie and say it was my own ingenuity, but I’m man enough to admit I found it on Pinterest.”
“I think it’s very sexy when a man is willing to admit to being crafty.”
“Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet. Just wait until Valentine’s Day. There’ll be crafty things all over this apartment.”
“Should I start calling you Mr. Stewart?” I giggled.
“Perhaps not, but that does conjure a lovely mental image of you in only an apron.”
Biting my lip to hide a grin, I waited until Alex turned back to the TV. Then I bounded to the kitchen, grabbed the apron that hung on the oven door, and shed my clothes. A moment later, he had his wish.
I crooked my finger at him. “About that desire you were going to fulfill?”
“I think I said ‘wish,’ but I won’t argue over semantics.” He wrapped his arms around me, palms resting on my bare rear end.
“Oh, this sounds like the plot to a romance novel,” I said, pulling his sweater up over his head. “The naughty cook who needs a lesson from the hot English professor.”
He gave me a wolfish grin. “I like the way you think.”
He carried me to the bedroom and made sure I didn’t have any time that night to worry about what the next day would bring.
Ever since I was a teenager and Angela Chase, the main character on the teen drama My So-Called Life, said she equated the ticking of the 60 Minutes clock to the end of the weekend, I’ve hated Sunday nights. But none quite so much as this one.
Not only was I facing the first morning of the new regime at work, but Alex was leaving for the conference too. I was so nervous that not even two glasses of wine could steady me. Alex, on the other hand, was the definition of calm and collected, watching TV as if this was any other night. It was driving me crazy. Finally, I kicked him gently in the ankle.
That got his attention. “Ow! What was that for?”
“How can you possibly be so calm? Your interview is tomorrow morning. Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“Because you’re doing that enough for both of us.” He grinned and pulled me down next to him, pinning my hands behind my back and covering my face in kisses.
By the time he came up for air, I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I was going to wait to give this to you, but it looks like you need it now.” He fished a long, thin rectangular block out of the pocket of his tan wool sweater and presented it to me.
When I looked closer, I realized it was one of those weekly pill boxes that older people keep their daily medications in so they know if they took them or not. “You’re giving me drugs?”
“No. I’ll leave it to you to medicate yourself. Open the one for today.”
I popped open the lid on the far left marked with a capital S for Sunday. A small folded piece of paper jumped out at me, leaving a bed of dark chocolate Mini Kisses behind. I opened the page and read. “‘This note entitles the bearer to a single wish fulfilled.’”
Alex leaned over and whispered a few racy suggestions in my ear.
My face flushed in response. “I’m up for that.”
He pried my fingers from around the pill box. “And that’s just the beginning. Each day has a little surprise in it to help you get through the week since I won’t be here to help you in person.”
I placed a hand on the side of his face and kissed him. “This has to be the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me. How in the world did you think of it?”
“I could lie and say it was my own ingenuity, but I’m man enough to admit I found it on Pinterest.”
“I think it’s very sexy when a man is willing to admit to being crafty.”
“Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet. Just wait until Valentine’s Day. There’ll be crafty things all over this apartment.”
“Should I start calling you Mr. Stewart?” I giggled.
“Perhaps not, but that does conjure a lovely mental image of you in only an apron.”
Biting my lip to hide a grin, I waited until Alex turned back to the TV. Then I bounded to the kitchen, grabbed the apron that hung on the oven door, and shed my clothes. A moment later, he had his wish.
I crooked my finger at him. “About that desire you were going to fulfill?”
“I think I said ‘wish,’ but I won’t argue over semantics.” He wrapped his arms around me, palms resting on my bare rear end.
“Oh, this sounds like the plot to a romance novel,” I said, pulling his sweater up over his head. “The naughty cook who needs a lesson from the hot English professor.”
He gave me a wolfish grin. “I like the way you think.”
He carried me to the bedroom and made sure I didn’t have any time that night to worry about what the next day would bring.
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