I love when the hero and his best friend attempt to help each other with their romantic entanglements. I mean, they’re so unwilling to admit they’re in over their head. They can’t request help—it’s the ultimate in refusing to ask for directions. Sometimes they talk around the situation, using a sort of bro-code language that only men can decipher. And then there are the times they flat-out try to ignore how their world has changed drastically, even when everything is crashing down around them.
It’s so freakin’ adorable.
In a previous book, my current hero Troy was a bit cavalier about the romantic advice he gave to his friend Matt, a superstar baseball pitcher. Now it’s Troy’s turn to be on the receiving end. Let’s listen in, shall we?
“Who’s the sexy blonde behind the bar you keep staring at?”
Troy saw Matt’s grin, but he ignored it, returning his attention to the basket of baseballs sitting on the table in front of him. He wasn’t ready to answer questions about Bet just then.
Matt took the hint, thankfully. “Do you need me to sign any of these?”
“Nah, I’ve got plenty of the real ones.” Troy picked up a pen and started signing Matt’s name. “These are the ones I give to the real douchebags.”
“What are you putting on there?” Matt leaned forward to get a better look. “Is that a smiley face?”
“Actually that’s a heart. See? Right at the end of the swirly part of the s in your last name.”
“I don’t do a swirly s in my signature.”
“You do now.”
Matt snorted. “I’m never gonna make it into the Hall of Fame.”
Troy snorted right back at him. “You’re a shoo-in and you know it. And these guys deserve it. Like the one who got all grabby with Bet the other day—”
“The sexy blonde you’ve been staring at?”
Troy tossed the pen down and picked up his beer. “She’s not a sexy blonde. She’s my sexy blonde.”
“Well, that’s intriguing.” Matt clinked his bottle against Troy’s. “Care to explain more?”
“Nope,” Troy answered cheerfully. He guzzled most of his beer before adding, “And I’ll be happy to ignore any more questions you have.”
“Perfect.” Matt glanced around the room, completely unconcerned.
“Don’t you say a word. None of this ‘I told you so’ or ‘glad it was your turn’ shit.”
Matt nodded. “Got it.”
“I said I got it.” Then Matt’s head dropped back and he laughed, for way too long. “Oh man, this is even better than I thought it would be.”
Troy slumped in his chair. “You know how I gave you a hard time about boo-hooing when you weren’t sure what to do about Allie?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t boo-hooing, but yeah, I know what you’re saying.”
“Well, I should apologize for that, but I won’t.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I get it now. What you were going through. Because I’m kinda going through it myself.”
Matt shook his head as if he’d just gotten beaned by a 90-mile-an-hour fastball. “Wait a minute. It sounds like you’re admitting to having feelings for a woman. Feelings way way above your jockstrap—”
“Hey! I have jockstrap feelings for her too. It’s just that they’re getting all mixed in with these other ones. And I’m not sure what to do.”
“I could say what you said to me,” Matt offered. “Something about she sounds fun and give me her phone number.”
“Allie’s gonna smack you, and then I’m gonna do the same. I need you to take me seriously here.”
“I am. And you know what you gotta do. You just gotta do it.”
Troy groaned. “Please tell me I was more helpful than that.”
I reside in New England, although I fantasize about spending the rest of my days in a tropical locale, wearing flip flops year-round, or in Regency London, scandalizing the ton.
I can usually be found on Twitter, talking about writing and coffee, and on Facebook, talking about coffee and writing.
I need someone to help me become a heartbreaker. And I’ve picked you.
Bettina Knox’s dating life was a disaster. What she needed was some expert instruction on becoming the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Luckily she found the perfect man for the job—a professional-grade flirter, adored by every woman he encountered. It was all fun and games until she started falling for her way-too-sexy teacher.
So you want me to give you all my secrets for breaking hearts. Even though I’m not convinced I’ve ever broken any.
Troy Callahan thought he’d heard it all in his years of owning a popular sports pub. Then this sweet, sassy woman waltzed up insisting he was going to teach her how to break hearts. He’d been a wingman forever, so why not help her unleash her inner bad girl? There was just one problem: turning Bet into a heartbreaking assassin had somehow put his own heart at risk.