By Heather Webber
“Exposed” by means of a Boston bring in reporter, Lucy is all of sudden the debate of town. lengthy back-story brief: even if the remainder of her Valentine ancestors have been blessed through Cupid with psychic skills, Lucy’s simply certain energy lies in her skill to discover issues. This ability has confirmed really a blessing should you come to her matchmaking organisation looking for discovering their long-lost loves. Now that Lucy’s key's out, she has extra new consumers than she is familiar with what to do with. yet quickly a undeniable guy of puzzle steals Lucy’s spotlight…No, it’s now not Sean Donahue, the horny fireman-turned-private-eye who’s stolen Lucy’s center. It’s a masked guy in a cowboy hat, dubbed “The Lone Ranger,” who’s been throwing handfuls of money around the universal. Now all of Beantown’s abuzz. Can Lucy unmask the mysterious cash guy, music down all her consumers’ previous flames, and switch up the warmth on her love existence? totally, certainly…
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Additional info for Absolutely, Positively: A Lucy Valentine Novel
Meaghan asked me. “Karma? ” “I was fifteen,” she said. “My first love. His name was Tristan Rourke. I want you to find him, Ms. ” “It’s Lucy, please. ” As I jotted the name down on a legal pad, I surreptitiously slid my gaze across my watch. I was hoping Sean would make it back in time to sit in on this meeting. He must have found a place he liked. I could easily imagine him making an offer on the spot. He was impulsive like that. As it was, he and Thoreau, his Yorkie, had been living with Sean’s brother, Sam, and his family for a few months.
I was lost in his pearly gray gaze. I realized just how much I wanted him to move in. “No. Yes. ” Panic warred with euphoria. He smiled. ” A warning buzzed at the back of my head. ” I nudged him with my shoulder. “No. I’m sure it’s nothing. ” He tightened his hold on me. ” “Trust me, you don’t. ” He laughed and kissed me. I threw myself into the heat of his lips, the lazy sweep of his tongue, as if he had all day to sample me and was looking forward to every minute. “Well, well, well,” a voice interrupted.
Ha—I had her fooled. I was a great liar. ” She sank into a chair. ” I forced a laugh. ” “You may as well just tell me. ” That’s what I was afraid of. 3 Meaghan Archibald’s pale green eyes twinkled with happiness. She looked like a siren from a vintage Herbal Essence bottle. Stunning curls spiraled through her long black hair. There was a hint of color in her cheeks, a swipe or two of mascara at most. A natural beauty. We’d already run through the particulars. She was twenty-three, a graphic designer living in an apartment near Fenway.