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You have thirty minutes to get ready. See you then!

The other notification has my heart leaping into my throat.

DatingLA

You have a new match. Click here for more information.

Curiosity has me tapping before logic sets in. Not only did we match, but there’s a new message in the inbox of the app.

Wyatt

Hey, Sloane! Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you too.

And this is where I always get stuck. I don’t know why I even bother with dating apps since there’s a very good chance he’ll end up asking for a full-body picture—or worse—within the next three or four messages. I could ask about how his day has been, but it feels strange to ask someone I don’t know how their day was. What if his day was absolute shit? He’ll lie and say it was fine or great. If he had a great day, I’ll feel obligated to top it even with my own day being mediocre.

As I’m spiraling, a new message appears.

I noticed on your profile that you enjoy reading. What was the last book you loved?

I think about it for a moment. What was the last book I enjoyed? Lately, I’ve been reading mysteries with Rachid and hating every one of them. The only other genre he reads is romance, and I refuse to partake in the fantasy of a fictional man—or woman. I really should get back into reading historical fiction; it’s always been my comfort genre. Maybe one day I’ll brave writing one of my own.

I’m blanking on the name, but the last book that I fell in love with was about a woman during the Gilded Age. What about you?

I finished one about a mafia family, but it wasn’t as good as the first book in the series.

Really? I can’t say I’ve read a mafia story before, let alone one in a series.

I’ve read several by the author before. The last one I had to force myself to finish.

I can empathize with his last remark, unable to recall the last time I didn’t finish a story, even if I hated it. Wyatt sends me a picture of a book, and the man on the cover is wearing a suit without a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. I zoom in for a closer look and bark out a laugh. Here I was thinking he’d been reading some sort of biography series, but this is something straight off of Rachid’s to-be-read list. If Rachid can’t convince me to buddy-read a mafia romance with him, I sure as hell am not going to read one recommended by a stranger.

Nope. Absolutely not.

Between the romance reads, how he works out, and with him being an event planner, he’s probably more extroverted than I am. What would we even have in common? This match isn’t going anywhere. I let out a long sigh, then type out what will likely be the last message I ever send him.

Sounds like an interesting read. I’m about to head out for drinks with my friend. Talk soon!

We will not, in fact, be talking soon.

I close out of the app and search for something to wear. Settling on a green tee and dark blue jeggings, I tie my hair into a messy bun and do one final fit check before making my way downstairs. If nothing else, today’s failed match warrants a few cheap drinks and happy hour appetizers.

1

WYATT

“Idon’t think I should go tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Ethan asks with a frown, sitting up straighter in the booth.

While he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned, I admit, “I don’t know if it’s the right fit. I’ll be one of the only romance authors in attendance.”

Glass still in hand, he points at me. “Emma would say that’s exactly why you should go.”

Being reminded that attending the writing retreat was my agent’s idea only makes my dilemma worse. I should be grateful for the support of not only my literary agency but also my former boss. While Ethan wasn’t technically my boss as a non-managing partner at the event company, I've always sought his approval—he’s been a bit of a father figure to me over the years. He lives in San Francisco, and when he found out I was coming to Tahoe this weekend, he made the trip with his wife, Melanie. Though both of them supported my decision to leave the company and pursue writing, I’m not the only reason they’re visiting.

Ethan is an avid reader, and when he found out about the retreat, he reached out to a few of the coordinating authors and offered to help with the planning. I don’t blame him for wanting to be here in person; the lineup is stacked.