Also, thank you, Carla Bastos, Aliza Pollak, Chaitanya Srivastava, Shay Tibbs, and Indigo’s amazing Dayla—I’m so grateful that BTTM introduced me to awesome people like you. And Lori Anderjaska—thank you for being the type of person who sends me random texts of dogs yelling obscenities at each other.
And the fam:
Mom, you made me a writer by fostering my love of books. It couldn’t have been fun, walking six blocks to the library—rain （or snow） or shine—every week, but I’m forever grateful. I love you to the moon and back.
Dad, I miss you every day.
MaryLee, I don’t deserve a sister as sweet as you and I can’t wait to see your movies. It is GOING to happen.
To my kids—Cass, Ty, Matt, Joey, and Kate—you really had nothing at all to do with this book. That being said, you’re the coolest people I know and we should eat spaghetti and meatballs together soon. I love you.
Last but not least—Kevin. I mean, I dedicated the entire book to you so I think that should be more than enough, but if not, thank you for not firing me that time I accidentally checked a guest into a room where there were already guests. If you would’ve gotten rid of this slacker desk clerk after that guy screamed at you, I never would’ve been able to badger you into dating and ultimately spending your life with me. That college job was kind of a life sentence, eh? I love you the mostest.
Keep reading for an excerpt from
The Love Wager
the next romantic comedy by Lynn Painter, coming soon from Berkley
“Can I get a Manhattan and a chardonnay, please?”
“Sure thing.” Hallie glanced over her shoulder as she handed one of the bridesmaids a Crown and Coke, and—wow—the dude shouting his order over the way-too-loud version of “Electric Slide” was very attractive. He was obviously in the bridal party, all tuxxed-up and looking fancy, and even though she was on a 90-day man diet, Hallie couldn’t help but appreciate the dimples and Hollywood bone structure. “You want that with bourbon?”
He leaned on his forearms and stretched a little closer to the bar as the hotel’s ballroom hit peak noise level. “Rye, please.”
“Nice.” She reached into the gray plastic bucket and pulled a California bottle out of the ice. “Interested in trying it with orange bitters?”
His dimples popped and he raised his eyebrows, his blue（？）—yes, blue—eyes squinting. “Is that a thing?”
“It is.” She poured the chardonnay and set the glass in front of him. “If you’re not a moron, you’ll love it.”
He coughed a laugh and said, “I consider myself to be generally non-moronic, so hook me up.”
Hallie started making his drink, and she kind of felt like she knew the guy. He seemed familiar. Not his face, necessarily, but his voice and super-tall height and twinkly eyes that made him look like he was down for any wild adventure.
She glanced at him as the dance floor’s disco lights lit up his dark hair. Shaking the mixer and straining the Manhattan into a glass, she struggled to come up with it; think, think, think. He was looking back in the direction of the head table when it finally hit her.
“I know how I know you!”
He turned back around. “What?”
It was so loud that Hallie had to lean a little closer to him. She smiled and said, “You’re Jack, right? I’m Hallie. I was the one who sold you the—”
“Hey!” he said, smiling, but then he set his hand on hers and gave her hard-core eye contact as he leaned closer and said, “Hallie. Listen. Let’s not mention—”
“Oh. My. God.” A blonde appeared beside him—where had she come from?—and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Hallie and said, “Seriously, Jack? The waitress?”
“Bartender,” Hallie corrected, having no idea why or what was up the Superblonde’s ass.
“You leave me alone for ten minutes—at your sister’s wedding, for God’s sake—to canoodle with the waitress?”
“Um, I can assure you there was no canoodling,” Hallie said, painfully aware that the woman’s loud voice was drawing a lot of attention. “And I’m a bartender, not a wait—”
“Can you just shut up?” Superblonde said it through her nose and with the last word pitched an octave higher, like she was a Kardashian.
“Would you relax, Vanessa?” Jack said it through his teeth, glancing over his lady friend’s head as he tried to get her to quiet down. “I don’t even know her—”