If you’re like me, you enjoy a feel good romance. My plans for today are to curl up with a series that features one of my favorite book boyfriend. Since there’s so many to choose from, I haven’t determined what universe I’ll revisit. I just ventured into the world of online dating, so haven’t found my happily ever after just yet.
Speaking of happily ever afters, if you’re looking for a feel good series to binge on kindle unlimited, check out my Brides Dock On Portum Island series. For a limited time “Theresa” Brides Dock On Portum Island, book 2 is on sale for $.99. A preview can be found below. Happy reading!
Cassandra Hall, the matchmaker on Portum Island, glanced at the real estate that she had been assigned. It wasn’t so bad. The office was probably the smallest space, which was stuffed in a ten-story office building. To Lance’s chagrin, they had been placed on the top floor, in a building where the elevator had a reputation for breaking down. But that wasn’t the issue that the resident matchmaker had with her office. The room consisted of two desks, and a couple of plush chairs for visitors. There wasn’t an area where the samples and applications could be locked away. Nope! Cassandra had settled for storing them in the filing cabinet, which had a flimsy padlock. There were over ninety samples to test, and two men to meet with.
The bell to the office rang, and Cassandra pressed the button on her desk that unlocked the door. To her relief, her first appointment, Thomas Daily, strolled in, his stiff posture telling her that this was going to be one awkward meeting. But she forced herself to stand and made sure to greet the man with a friendly smile and a firm handshake.
“Mr. Daily, please sit,” Cassandra insisted. He continued to stand, his dark eyes boring into hers. It took everything for Cassandra not to shift on her feet.
“Once I marry the woman, am I contractually obligated to keep her?” he demanded.
“Mr. Daily, we hope to assist you with having a happy marriage. We hope that not keeping your bride shouldn’t be an option. Please sit, so that I can take some notes on what you are looking for,” Cassandra instructed as she sat on her office chair and opened up a template on her computer.
“You should include that in the contract,” Mr. Daily suggested, as he dusted off the plush chair in front of her desk before settling into it.
“Right, I’ll think about it. So, Mr. Daily, do you have an age preference?”
“What ages are women most fertile?” he inquired.
“You shouldn’t focus on that. Portum Island has…”
“That’s what I want. I need someone that will bear and raise my children.”
“Mr. Daily, don’t you want to be happy with your wife?” Cassandra asked, her heart sinking. She had a feeling that some of the men on her list would only be looking to sire heirs, but something about Mr. Daily seemed defeated. It was in the way that his shoulders stiffened when Cassandra made eye contact with him.
“Mr. Daily, what are some of your hobbies?” the matchmaker asked, after her client refused to answer her last question.
“I enjoy reading business biographies, watching game shows, building furniture, and swimming,” he listed. Now, that she could work with. Behind the tough exterior was a creative man.
“What kind of food do you like?” she asked Mr. Daily.
“I’ll eat anything, as long as it is edible. Food should only be viewed as a means of sustenance. You eat to live,” he lectured. It was obvious that the idea involving food had been beaten into him. A thought bloomed in Cassandra’s mind. She would make it her mission to find Thomas Daily a bright light, a woman that would bring out his true personality. The rest of the questions were promptly answered, and he left her office.
Cassandra rushed to the cabinet and fished out the package that had caught her eye. It had come with the most touching of letters. She yanked the vial of the young woman’s DNA sample and deposited the rest of the contents on her desk.
With her heart in her throat, Cassandra strolled out of the office, relieved that the door would lock behind her. She next went to the elevator, which opened with a ding. A woman carrying a briefcase rushed out, and Cassandra took the opportunity to hurry into the elevator before someone called it to another floor. She pressed the button for the first floor, and thankfully the slow, decrepit machine took her safely down to the lobby. The matchmaker waved at the people that sat in the general waiting room before making her way out of the building. The familiar blast of heat brought a smile to her face.
Cassandra ran toward the beach, where the barrier was easiest to reach. She passed couples who were on afternoon strolls, and the sight only empowered her. Thomas Daily would be one part of a strolling couple. The letter that she read quickly came to mind.
I can’t stand questionnaires, so some of the answers are blank. Because, seriously, I’m the type that expresses herself. My name is Theresa McDonald, but most people call me Tessa. “Theresa” seems so stuffy and proper. My mother wanted me to be a cotillion girl. I’m not from the south or anything. Well, I could have been if Mom hadn’t left my father for a famous tennis player who lives in Europe. I only suffer the agony of visiting her on special occasions. My father, on the other hand, is a moron. He is marrying Gail, a stuck-up gold digger who’s trying to cut me out of the will. Yeah, I’m serious! I guess Gail told my father that if he really loved her, she should be entitled to everything if they should ever be parted. Since my father has the love bug, why not start over?
I didn’t go to a four-year college. I decided to babysit my dad instead. But I did get a certification in massage therapy. That pissed off my mother. But I kind of like massage therapy because I have the chance to help people, even if it is only for an hour. I am definitely not smart enough to be a doctor, so I picked the second-best thing. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that I want to start over. If you can actually find me a man, that is. I hope you give me someone stable. He doesn’t have to be predictable, just someone I can rely on. Oh and Cassandra, please let the guy not be an atrocious singer. It would seem that my father is not only stupid, but lost his sense of pitch.
Your hopeful client,
Cassandra had agonized over that letter for a couple of days. She hadn’t been sure that someone so rebellious would be a good fit for Portum Island. But then she had her meeting with Thomas Daily.
Cassandra made it to the beach and pulled the DNA sample from the kit. Without hesitation, she tossed the sample up at the clear blue sky. The sample immediately vanished, which was a favorable reaction. Had the barrier rejected Tessa’s sample, the barrier would have emitted a sound, similar to the one made when a balloon popped. Good, Cassandra thought. Thomas was going to get the bride meant for him.