Amazon Bestseller 2014 Love and Romance

A respected book editor, terrified of getting old, has to find her soulmate and marry him on her birthday.

Betty Sallas is having a crisis. Her 40th birthday has just snuck up on her. She’d been so busy with the career she hadn’t had time to mentally prepare. But as appalling as it is to turn forty, doing so unmarried and single is intolerable. So when an elderly gypsy reveals that today is the day Betty finds her husband, she wonders what if? What if there’s something to this psychic hokum? And she dons a wedding dress and sets out to find her soulmate and marry him.

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  And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free romance excerpt:

Chapter 1

 

The way it had happened is what was particularly unfair. The way it had snuck up on her. There’d been no alarm raised, no bell rung; no warning that hey, this is real.

You are turning forty.

Betty Sallas was seated in the middle of the bed, under a bed sheet. She was in plain pajamas and had her eyes closed. Her hands casually fumbling with a strand of hair, she was pensive. She’d been seated like this for a good while.

She opened her eyes and found that there was enough light to see the drinking glass and the soggy manuscript it sat on. The sun must be rising. Another day dawning.

Was that good or bad? Probably good, she decided. She could argue both.

Better to not. Better to focus on the positive. She couldn’t think of anything but she was certain there was something.

She flung the bed sheet away, jumped and managed a sloppy dance around the room.

“Cha cha cha!” she said under her breath. “Ooooh, cha cha cha.”

She hurried out and sauntered unsteadily down the hall, into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out a large box of chocolates.

“Just one more, cha cha cha.”

She opened the box, bit into a piece, turned and was startled to find a man in dark blue overalls standing at the sink staring at her. Well built and scruffy, he held a heavy wrench in gloved hands.

“A man, cha cha cha,” Betty said. “In my kitchen, cha cha cha. A stranger, cha cha cha. Intruder – ooooh, cha cha cha.”

She grabbed another piece of chocolate.

“Try this, Mr. Intruder.”

She held the chocolate to the intruder who gaped at her, puzzled.

“Seriously. You have to try it,” Betty said.

She stepped forward and fed him the chocolate. He let her press it into his mouth. Then he proceeded to eat it slowly.

“Okay, now back to your intruder activities,” she dismissed him.

She was about to take another bite when her world was struck by a moment of lucidity. Her heart skipped a beat and she found it difficult to breathe.

“Wait, you’re really a person aren’t you?” she asked him. “This is not the mixed drinks, this is real.”

The man nodded. He was real.

“Are you a thief type intruder or you more into… well let’s just say rape for example?”

The man seemed to open his mouth to speak but she quickly continued.

“If you are into rape… let me have another drink first,” she said and stepped back but was halted by the wine rack. “Let me have a drink, and gimme a little bit of time. This is already a difficult night for me. In fact -”

She quickly turned and grabbed a wine bottle and raised it, readying to attack. Footsteps approached from down the hall just then, and her mom Connie strode in. Petit and energetic, she was in a flowery green tunic. A nurse’s tunic.

“Good morning!” Connie said. “Oh hon, you found the chocolate I got you. Do you like it?”

Betty just gaped, aghast that her mom hadn’t acknowledged the intruder in the house. Connie opened the box of chocolates to try some. But there was just one left.

“I was up earlier, mom,” Betty explained, still not taking her eyes off the intruder. “Loved it though – thanks.”

She began to wonder if she might in fact be the only one who saw this man. She tried to count how many drinks she’d had during the night. Couldn’t have been more than six glasses. Couldn’t have been because she was sure there was still half a bottle of vodka in her bedroom.

Connie closed the box of chocolates, deciding to not take the last remaining one.

“Glad you liked it, sweetie,” she told Betty.

Then she turned to the intruder.

“So. How’s it look?”

 

Chapter 2

 

“Eggshells. They don’t like ’em,” the intruder replied in a voice that was a gentle baritone. “Also, you wanna avoid stringy vegetables; and pasta and rice cause that stuff gains volume with water, so it clogs up your pipes; and I would add coffee grounds to the list. And grease too, obviously.”

“You got an intruder fixing the garbage disposal?” Betty asked her mom.

“I’m a plumber, and my name is Mike O’Neal,” he told her, his manner friendly. “Sorry for startling you but I had to come this early because… well I also –”

“Mr. Plumber Intruder…” Betty cut him off. “I’m sure your life is fascinating. But I have a raging hangover that makes it impossible to properly appreciate it right now.”

She turned to her mom, who was writing out a check.

“And mom… a heads up next time? I mean, I almost had a heart attack just now. Lucky for me I was too depressed to really care. But in future… please.”

Connie looked up from the check.

“Always lovely having my daughter remind me that I’m living in her house,” she said.

“I never said my house!” Betty yelled.

“Oh you don’t have to say it,” Connie replied. “It’s unsaid but it’s very clear.”

Connie handed Mike the check.

“I better get to work, so I can pay rent at my daughter’s house.”

“Oh my God!” Betty screamed. “You insisted… for your dignity you said!”

“Yes I insisted on paying rent. It just would’ve been nice if you’d insisted when I insisted. Then I could insist again, feeling even prouder that I was paying rent where I did not need to. Because it’s my daughter’s house.”

Connie opened the front door.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” Betty screamed. “Could you at least let off for today?! I’m having issues here! And by the way…”

She scurried closer to her mom and lowered her voice.

“How can we be so sure?” she asked.

“So sure?” Connie asked her.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Some kind of mistake, you’re wondering?”

“A typo on the certificate – it happens.”

“Listen to me. I had you three months after I turned 24. Three months ago I turned 64. Happy Birthday, Betty.”

And with that, Connie stepped out and shut the door.

“Oh my God. I am really…” Betty struggled with the words. “Foooorty.”

“Wow,” Mike said. “Catastrophe. How will you manage?”

“I haven’t even had time to prepare,” Betty said, ignoring him. “I was focused on work. I thought that was what we were supposed to do. I mean, forty is huge. Forty is something that happened to other people. Don’t get me wrong I did my part for them. I congratulated them and pretended it was an achievement; to sooth their pain. And now… gosh I was supposed to ’ve been married at least. I mean, it’s bad enough to turn forty. But to do so without ever having been married. How am I supposed to take that? It’s like the universe has given me a collective ‘meh.’”

“A ‘meh?’” Mike asked. “Or is it more a ‘feh?’”

Betty continued to ignore him. She just talked, to no one in particular. She needed to say these things and thus was saying them.

“Ever since I was little, I knew I’d be married by forty,” she said. “I just knew it.”

“Yeah, I got you. Like me, I knew I would do six years in pro football, then retire and have two auto dealerships. Instead the only contract I signed was a marriage one that’s produced two kids. Who, it turns out, are not as profitable as a dealership.”

Betty opened the box and took the last lonely piece of chocolate.

“I’m trying to cope here and you wanna make jokes. You can do that by yourself.”

With that, she marched back to her room.

 

Chapter 3

“Hello? Miss? Madam?” Mike called out.

He’d spent several minutes calling out for Betty without any response. He had to leave for his second job, so he couldn’t wait any longer.

Mike walked slowly down the hallway, uncertain. One thing he hadn’t expected to irk him quite so much about being a plumber was having to wonder around trying to find homeowners. They would often leave him to the work and go off to nap, or even leave the house altogether. Eventually he would have to walk around to find them, each step feeling intrusive.

And the few times when he came upon people in a state that they didn’t care to be found in – a woman doing a headstand in her underwear, a man licking something gelatinous that had dropped on a computer desk – they’d looked at him with indignation.

“Hello?” he said presently. “It’s the plumber again. Miss?”

No answer.

He came across a bedroom door. He knocked and waited. No answer. Pressing it, he found it open. He peeked in, finding Betty wide awake, staring at the wall. He knocked gently.

“Hi. Are you up?”

“No I’m sound asleep,” Betty said. “What time is it?”

“Nine seventeen,” Mike looked at his watch.

“That’s really awesome. I have to be at work at nine.”

“The garbage disposal’s been replaced. But before I head out can I show you something?”

“No.”

“It’s kind of important.”

“No.”

After a little more prodding from him Betty rose, and Mike walked her back out to the living room. He took her to the chimney and got her to peer up the flue.

“That’s an old design that’s come to be known as ‘take my stuff,’” he told her. “The cap especially, is easy to cut through. And this flue – it’s much too wide; it’s easy to climb down, and come and take your stuff.”

“Okay,” Betty said, distracted. “Stuff in danger. Got it.”

“I can fix it. Just need to weld a couple of metal bars and -”

“Stuff safe again,” Betty cut him off. “Alright, I’ll think about it. Right now my getting ready for work seems kind of appropriate, so…”

“You wanna get this done A-S-A-P.”

“Listen. What you fail to understand is that my standing here acting like I’m listening to you is nothing less than heroic. The aforementioned hangover?”

“Okay. Sorry to hear. It does though seem kinda sad; a hangover the morning of your fortieth birthday.”

“You saying I’m pathetic?” Betty asked calmly.

“Not at all. Just seems like it should come after the birthday.”

“So? I’ve gotten it out of the way.”

“What’d you drink?”

“Gin and tonic, wine, vodka. A few. Quite a few.”

“Why so much?”

“Because I’ve suddenly been hit with the realization… that I’ve neglected my dreams. So do yourself a favor. Make your dreams a priority.”

“Fine. But back to this…” Mike indicated the chimney. “Any thief can spot this chimney from –”

“Your dreams, Mr. Plumber Intruder. They’re not gonna happen by themselves. Now, off you go to your unprofitable kids.”

 

Chapter 4

 

Betty stood in a very crowded city bus, now in her favorite beige pantsuit. A preppy young man offered his seat, and Betty considered it for just a second – it was her birthday after all. But she smiled and shook her head.

She never accepted offers of seats, and today would not be any different. She remained standing and watched Manhattan streets go by.

She felt better, and was glad she’d chosen the beige pantsuit. She decided to forget about turning forty. Lots of people have turned forty. And they survived, did they not?

It was while thinking all of this that her wrist was grabbed. Startled, she looked down and saw a bronze pair of stubby hands holding hers. The owner of these hands, a woman in her sixties, stared up at her. The woman had a black headscarf around a small, wrinkled face.

“I read for you?” the woman asked with an accent.

A Roma woman, Betty thought to herself.

“Read? My palm?” she asked.

“Yes,” the Roma woman replied.

“Oh I’m sure it’ll be fascinating but I’m gonna pass. Thank you.”

Immediately she regretted this. What if this woman was destitute? What if she was striving to earn for a van load of hungry grandchildren? What kind of human being turned down such a woman?

“If you don’t like don’t pay,” the Roma woman suggested.

“Sure,” Betty gladly relented. “Read my palm.”

The Roma woman caressed Betty’s hand. It was slow and soft, even pleasurable when the woman ran her calloused fingers over the inner palm. Betty felt weird as other passengers began to watch. The Roma woman took her time, looking deeply into every line, every crevice.

Finally her eyes lit up.

“Today is very special day,” she announced.

“Ooooo,” Betty quietly snickered before catching herself. She silently admonished herself for the rudeness.

“There is a man… today! The man for you to marry.”

So now Betty got heated. Because now it was about stopping a crook.

“Look, no offence but you take a… a 35 year old woman, see that there’s no ring and suggest she might get married today, thus making her excited and happy to pay for more… insights I’ll generously call them. That’s really genius. No hokum here at all.”

“But…” the Roma woman said. “You are forrrty years old.”

Betty pulled her hand away. Then reached into her purse and flung a $20 bill to the Roma woman and returned her attention to the passing streets.

A series of high end storefronts passed by: enormous window displays of the latest in fashions, jewelry, furniture and toys. Betty’s attention was grabbed by Ellyn’s Bridal, with mannequins in elegant wedding dresses standing luxuriously in a display window that seemed endless.

Betty tugged urgently at the signal wire and made her way through the crowd, to the front exit. The gray haired bus driver noticed.

“That you, Betty? You know that ain’t your stop.”

“It is today!” she replied and hopped out.

 

Chapter 5

 

Betty rushed into the Ellyn’s Bridal store, her elation rising with each dress she looked at. There were so many choices!

A near-anorexic bridal consultant smiled warmly at her.

“Hello, I’m Kelly –”

“I hate to rush you but I’m in a huge hurry,” Betty told her.

“Okay.”

“I want a sweetheart top and neckline, mermaid bottom – believe me I’ve thought this through. I’d like a corset back, ruching, ruffles and frills down at –”

“Okay, slow down dear,” Kelly raised her hands. “I’m super excited for you but here’s what we do. We help you choose by getting a feel of you and your husband to be.”

“Okay,” Betty said.

“So, first you. You are in your early or late thirties?”

“Yeah.”

“Which?”

“Correct.”

“Okay,” Kelly said, accepting that the exact age was an issue. “What do you do?”

“I’m a book editor.”

“Oh, creative.”

“Well… I guess,” Betty said. “I mean sure.”

“Okay. Now, tell me about him… what does he do?”

“A lot of things. He’s very resourceful.”

“What does he like?”

“Oh I don’t know. Me, I guess,” Betty said, giddy.

“But… is he… how would you describe him?”

Betty took a deep breath and thought on this.

“Smart, kind, considerate. Funny but never in a mean way! He kind of acts tough but deep down there’s an idealist who gets emotional watching children play. He’s tall – or short, I don’t really care. He takes care of himself but he’s not obsessed. He has just one obsession – me.”

“Sounds like… quite a catch,” Kelly said, though she was totally confused.

“I know, isn’t he? I can’t wait to meet him.”

Now Kelly just couldn’t hide her bewilderment.

“Oh I haven’t met him yet,” Betty clarified. “I intend to meet my husband today.”

“Don’t you want to meet him first before you buy a $7000 dress?” Kelly asked. “Wait – I meant the opposite of what I just said. The opposite.”

“Thank you,” Betty said.

She was just happy they were on the same page.

An hour later Betty had chosen her wedding dress. It had most of the features she’d wanted, all seamlessly put together. She was dazzling in it and struggled to contain her excitement.

“I’m glad you chose that one,” Kelly said. “It’s one of my favorites, it’s so gorgeous. So now you can change back and we will place the dress in the bridal garment bag so you can take it home.”

“Oh no, I’m gonna be wearing it,” Betty informed her.

“Right. At the wedding –”

“No, no. Right now.”

“Is the wedding right now?”

“No, but… I’m just gonna keep it on.”

“You’re gonna walk out in the dress?”

“Yes, exactly,” Betty clarified.

She could hardly believe her luck as she handed her credit card to the cashier, beaming. Kelly stared, unable to believe what was happening.

“Are you sure you want to walk out in the dress? That’s… that’s your wedding dress,” Kelly said.

“I know,” Betty replied. “I plan to get married today. So I’m gonna keep it on.”

“Okay one moment please,” Kelly said and disappeared.

The cashier completed the sale, her brows raised in permanent astonishment.

“It is a very pretty dress,” she told Betty to fill the silence.

Kelly returned, holding a bag with Betty’s clothes in it.

“So here are your clothes,” she said.

“Oh I won’t be needing them today,” Betty informed her.

“You won’t?”

“Nope. Thank you though.”

 

Chapter 6

 

Betty walked out of Ellyn’s Bridal in her wedding dress. With each step it appeared to shimmer in the sunlight – so white was the fabric. Lifting the bottom frills inches above the ground she told herself she would simply walk normal, and tried her best to do just that.

She began to notice the many stares of curious pedestrians. And a deep shyness made her question what she was doing. Who walks down the street in a wedding dress? Is there a more obnoxious thing to do?

She was feeling the weight of these thoughts when she tip toed past an asphalt crew working on the road. The asphalt loader saw her and brightened up.

“Well hello there! Baby, you from Tennessee?” he called out. “Cause you the only ten I see!”

The foreman looked up and wanted in.

“Baby let’s find out what’s easier – you getting into that dress or getting out of it?”

The asphalt paver, a smallish man, now joined them.

“No, let’s do some math: add a bed, subtract your dress, divide your legs, and multiply!”

He high fived his buddies.

“My name is John, by the way! So now you know what to scream tonight!”

They cackled, very pleased with themselves. Betty stopped walking. She turned and approached them.

“Yeah?” Betty asked them.

“What?” the asphalt paver said.

“John? My name is Betty.”

There was a moment of uncertainty as the men fumbled for words. They hadn’t expected this.

“Pleased to meet you,” the paver replied. “I’m ah… John like I said just now.”

“John, are you just playing around or… you really interested in me?”

“Yeah, I mean, why not? You’re hot.”

“Okay. Well, let’s see… tell me about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah I’d like to see if we could be compatible,” Betty explained.

“Lady, ain’t you gettin’ married?” John asked.

“I am! Just trying to see if you’re going to be my husband! Seeing as I know what name to scream and all.”

She rolled her eyes. John seemed to blush. He scratched his armpit.

“For reals? Shoot. What do you wanna know?”

“Where’re you from?”

“Phoenix. Phoenix, Arizona.”

“What brought you up here?”

“Just… somethin’ to do. See the world. New York, Miami, Vegas, I’ve seen ’em all.”

“What do you do when you’re not working?”

“All kinds of stuff. I do it all.”

“You do it all.”

“I sure do, baby.”

“Okay. How would you describe your personality?”

“My personality?”

“Yes. Describe your personality.

“My personality? I would say it’s awesome. Yeah. My personality is frickin’ awesome. I get compliments on my personality all the time.”

He nodded with the last sentence, as though uttering it gave him conviction.

“Thank you, John,” Betty told him.

She turned and continued on her way.

The men stared, dumbfounded.

“Man, you shoulda said your personality was kind and gentle,” the foreman scolded.

“No, man. You should’ve said your personality was complex,” the loader offered. “That’s the shit they really like. Complex.”

To hell with the shyness, Betty told herself as she walked away. Where had it gotten her? Let’s be obnoxious. Let’s do and say what the hell we want for today. Whatever that is.

 

Chapter 7

As she walked through pedestrians, Betty tried to come up with a plan. How does one set about finding a soulmate? Because that’s exactly what she intended to do.

She would find her soulmate. And because he was her soulmate, he would agree that they needed to be married right away. Because why wait? Time was passing them both by. Why wait on happiness?

The preferred candidate, of course, would be Carl from work. Yes, she needed to find out what was going on with Carl. Where did he stand on things? She’d given him enough time.

Getting the dress was the genius move. Her soulmate, if he was truly her soulmate, would be knocked out by this dress. That would be the first test for Carl. Would he just lose his mind at seeing her in this dress? She felt a thrill just imagining him laying eyes on her.

She heard her cellphone ring but continued walking, trying to think up a strategy for Carl. The phone continued to ring. Betty reached into her purse and answered.

“Wendy!” she said.

In the posh offices of Woodruff publishing, Wendy Chartoff discretely held a cellphone to her ear. A large woman, she struggled to crouch behind a water fountain, hiding from the occupant of an office across the hallway.

In that office, which had Betty Sallas in bronze letters on the door, a woman was seated. This woman was in a black t-shirt, black denim, and adorned with various wiccan trinkets. She simply sat, motionless, waiting.

“Your twelve o’clock’s here,” Wendy whispered into the phone. “Where are you?!”

“Oh my God!” Betty yelled in the middle of the street. “I forgot!”

“How could you forget?” Wendy asked. “If you lose this -”

“This can’t be happening!”

Betty raised her dress once again and ran. Sighting a Fed Ex truck, she dashed into traffic and hopped onto it.

“Lady – what’re you doing?” the driver yelled.

“I gotta get down to Fifth Avenue like right now!”

“Lady I’m not allowed to take passengers.”

“I won’t report you!”

“Lady I can’t have –”

“Please I’m a big fan of Federal Express I swear!”

“I’m a fan of keeping a job,” the driver said. “Can you understand that?”

“Please!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Company policy.”

But he didn’t make her leave. He just continued to drive, warily looking all around. Traffic got stalled, and soon it was moving along in spurts.

“Driver please!”

“Lady, I can’t drive faster than the traffic.”

“Then please honk so they can get out of the way.”

“No can do. I’m sorry. I cannot be rude to other motorists while driving this Fed Ex truck.”

An unusual vehicle moved past in the next lane. It was long, and had an open back area composed of a roof over a rectangular berth. Seeing the empty back area Betty realized that this was a vintage hearse.

She hopped out and chased after it. The hearse slowed to a crawl up ahead, and Betty caught up and jumped into the empty back area, gripping the edges. Alarmed, the Dominican driver stopped. Cars behind him honked like crazy.

“Don’t mind me!” Betty yelled. “Please just keep going!”

“Lady this not proper!” the Dominican yelled out from his window.

“Please! There’s no coffin! It’s an emergency!” Betty yelled back.

Loud sirens howled as a Police Cruiser appeared at the cross street. An officer with dark glasses exited and marched toward them.

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