Single and Searching Read Online Free
Author: Rita Herron
glass of water.
"Scumbag," Jenna said.
"You're being nice." Casey plopped into one of her kitchen chairs. "He was a scumbag at 8:00 last night. He's deteriorated drastically since."
Jenna laughed. "Sorry, Case. Men stink. Our luck should prove that."
"I know," Casey mumbled. "I can't believe I let you talk me into placing that ad. Single and Searching – it sounds like a maniac magnet."
"Hey, don't give up. It was only the first guy who answered. I told you three women have been shopping at the store buying lingerie for their wedding nights. They all found husbands through singles ads. You just have to give it time."
Casey huffed. "I wasn't expecting Prince Charming last night or a husband. I just wanted to meet some half-decent guy I could talk into taking me to my awards dinner." She refused to admit her fantasies about the plumber even to Jenna. Maybe she needed psychiatric help.
Or maybe she should call the plumber back.
She could always cram something down her kitchen sink or the toilet in her other bathroom. Just because he wasn't good with words didn't mean he wasn't good in other ways. After all, he worked with his hands. Hmmm.
"How about that guy that illustrates your books? He'll go to the dinner, won't he?" Jenna asked.
Casey sighed. "Sure, but Brick and I are just friends. Besides, his girlfriend, Shelia, is a human piranha."
Jenna laughed. "Well, don't give up. You might just find the perfect guy. Being married would help if Travis takes you to court to get Henry S.," Jenna said convincingly.
Casey unfolded the morning paper. "Yeah, I know. How's the little rascal this morning?"
"An angel," Jenna said.
Casey snorted. "Sure, he always is." Her fingernails tapped up and down the newspaper.
"So, did the guy not even call?" Jenna asked.
"Nope." Casey's fingers paused, scanning the inside page. "It was strange though. I had a message from another plumber that he had an emergency and would call today." An article about dating drew her eye, and she pointed to the title in horror.
"Hey, listen to this, Jenna. Personal Ad Dating: Dream Date or Disillusionment? Oh, my gosh," Casey gasped as she began to read the article aloud.
"Some people place personal ads actually expecting to find their true love. They paint evocative pictures of themselves with words hoping to lure the ideal mate. Instead of finding love, they may find romance, or in many cases, the opposite – a disaster."
She scanned the article and read a description of five different women the journalist had dated, the first being a woman who came to the door wearing a tattered robe and ordered her date to fix her toilet."
Her date? "How in the world?" Suddenly a chill slithered up Casey's spine, and she glanced at the byline.
"Oh, my word," Casey groaned.
"What is it?" Jenna asked.
Anger surged through her as she quickly skimmed the column. Gabriel Thornton had written this article. And she, along with four other women, had been verbally slaughtered by his version of dating via personal ads. He'd described in detail her meeting with the plumber last night He made her sound psychotic! How could he know what had happened between her and the plumber?
Suspicion took a nasty hold on her.
Casey slammed the paper down then pivoted toward her laptop and googled his name. Seconds later, a photo of the man in her house the night before appeared, except this time he was dressed in a sport coat and tie and looked as handsome as homemade sin. A list of his credentials and the articles he'd penned followed.
Dammit!
She wadded up the paper as the truth dawned on her. The man at her door last night had been Gabriel Thornton.
The slimeball had shown up an hour early for her date, disguised himself as a plumber to get his interview, and sneaked away like a thief in the night. He'd probably never intended to take her out.
Details of the other women in the article skated through her mind. At least Frita the fudgecake freak had gotten dinner and four
"Scumbag," Jenna said.
"You're being nice." Casey plopped into one of her kitchen chairs. "He was a scumbag at 8:00 last night. He's deteriorated drastically since."
Jenna laughed. "Sorry, Case. Men stink. Our luck should prove that."
"I know," Casey mumbled. "I can't believe I let you talk me into placing that ad. Single and Searching – it sounds like a maniac magnet."
"Hey, don't give up. It was only the first guy who answered. I told you three women have been shopping at the store buying lingerie for their wedding nights. They all found husbands through singles ads. You just have to give it time."
Casey huffed. "I wasn't expecting Prince Charming last night or a husband. I just wanted to meet some half-decent guy I could talk into taking me to my awards dinner." She refused to admit her fantasies about the plumber even to Jenna. Maybe she needed psychiatric help.
Or maybe she should call the plumber back.
She could always cram something down her kitchen sink or the toilet in her other bathroom. Just because he wasn't good with words didn't mean he wasn't good in other ways. After all, he worked with his hands. Hmmm.
"How about that guy that illustrates your books? He'll go to the dinner, won't he?" Jenna asked.
Casey sighed. "Sure, but Brick and I are just friends. Besides, his girlfriend, Shelia, is a human piranha."
Jenna laughed. "Well, don't give up. You might just find the perfect guy. Being married would help if Travis takes you to court to get Henry S.," Jenna said convincingly.
Casey unfolded the morning paper. "Yeah, I know. How's the little rascal this morning?"
"An angel," Jenna said.
Casey snorted. "Sure, he always is." Her fingernails tapped up and down the newspaper.
"So, did the guy not even call?" Jenna asked.
"Nope." Casey's fingers paused, scanning the inside page. "It was strange though. I had a message from another plumber that he had an emergency and would call today." An article about dating drew her eye, and she pointed to the title in horror.
"Hey, listen to this, Jenna. Personal Ad Dating: Dream Date or Disillusionment? Oh, my gosh," Casey gasped as she began to read the article aloud.
"Some people place personal ads actually expecting to find their true love. They paint evocative pictures of themselves with words hoping to lure the ideal mate. Instead of finding love, they may find romance, or in many cases, the opposite – a disaster."
She scanned the article and read a description of five different women the journalist had dated, the first being a woman who came to the door wearing a tattered robe and ordered her date to fix her toilet."
Her date? "How in the world?" Suddenly a chill slithered up Casey's spine, and she glanced at the byline.
"Oh, my word," Casey groaned.
"What is it?" Jenna asked.
Anger surged through her as she quickly skimmed the column. Gabriel Thornton had written this article. And she, along with four other women, had been verbally slaughtered by his version of dating via personal ads. He'd described in detail her meeting with the plumber last night He made her sound psychotic! How could he know what had happened between her and the plumber?
Suspicion took a nasty hold on her.
Casey slammed the paper down then pivoted toward her laptop and googled his name. Seconds later, a photo of the man in her house the night before appeared, except this time he was dressed in a sport coat and tie and looked as handsome as homemade sin. A list of his credentials and the articles he'd penned followed.
Dammit!
She wadded up the paper as the truth dawned on her. The man at her door last night had been Gabriel Thornton.
The slimeball had shown up an hour early for her date, disguised himself as a plumber to get his interview, and sneaked away like a thief in the night. He'd probably never intended to take her out.
Details of the other women in the article skated through her mind. At least Frita the fudgecake freak had gotten dinner and four
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