That awkward moment when the matchmaker becomes the match…
Meet Cute or Your Money Back, an all-new grumpy/sunshine, opposites attract, matchmaker romcom from USA Today bestselling author Katana Collins is now available!
I know what women want in a man and they pay me a lot of money to find it for them.
With the help of my fellow ex-special forces brothers, I opened up a matchmaking business where we use our military skills to help our clients find The One. And it turns out a little military strategy goes a long way.
I treat each new client in my matchmaking business like its own mission. And I’m proud to say that I have a one hundred percent success rate.
Or at least I did. Before Allie Larsen entered the picture.
She’s smart. She’s beautiful. She’s charming…
… and she’s impossible to please.
But when it turns out Allie has secrets she’s been keeping, she not only jeopardizes her own matchmaking mission, but she puts both our lives in danger.
Except this time, it's not only my life at risk... it's my heart.
When they said, "All's fair in love and war," I'm not sure this is what they meant.
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Keep reading for a look inside Meet Cute or Your Money Back!
I knew someone was following me from the moment I stepped out into the brisk city air. When you’re in my line of work, you learn not to ignore that prickling sensation on the back of your neck. I’ve had eyes on me enough times to know the difference between paranoia and the real deal. One surreptitious glance over my shoulder confirms that I’m right. Only it doesn’t appear to be some insidious threat lurking in the shadows; it’s a pair of round hazel, curious eyes that are trained on me.
“Okay,” I mutter under my breath, tightening my grip on my to-go paper coffee cup, “time to face the music.”
I make a sharp turn down an alleyway, my boots echoing off the graffiti-stained walls. There’s a method to this madness—alleyways are good for confrontations, fewer prying eyes. I position myself around the corner behind a dumpster and wait, counting the seconds. Sure enough, the soft patter of footsteps crescendos as she rounds the bend, almost on cue.
I pull my gun from my waistband, ensuring the safety is still on and raise it chest height as I step out from the shadows. “Why are you following me?”
I cringe as she spins to face me, her pouty, berry-shaded lips parted in a gasp. “Oh my lord! That’s a gun!” she cries with the timbre of a kindergarten teacher.
“Wow, look at you, Detective Sunshine. So tell me…are you lost or just really into following people?” My tone’s casual, but my stance is anything but. I hold firm with the gun raised, waiting for her to stumble over some lie. But she stops short, blinking up at me with an expression that’s part surprise, part chagrin.
“Following you?” Her voice has that high-pitched quality of someone caught red-handed. She laughs—a nervous kind of laugh—and then looks away, searching for an escape route that isn’t there. “No, no, I...I was...”
“Let’s cut to the chase.” I step closer and see her swallow hard. Good. Keep her on her toes. “You’ve been tailing me since we both exited the coffee shop. What’s your game?”
She tugs at the strap of her bag, clearly buying time, and I can tell she’s not used to being cornered. Most folks aren’t. Then again, I’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially some cute brunette playing innocent. I’ve seen firsthand how the doe-eyed Bambi can be trained to lie through their teeth and turn into the deadliest assassin in the room in a blink of those mascara-laden eyes.
I’m absolutely not falling for that act.
“Who are you?” I demand, not unkindly, but firmly enough to show I mean business. I can see the wheels turning behind those wide eyes, the cogs of her brain grinding as she sizes up whether to run or spill as she stares down the barrel of my gun.
“Okay, okay...” She exhales sharply, a half-defeated chuckle escaping her lips. “This is going to sound strange, but—”
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and I notice for the first time how the setting sunlight catches in her wavy hair, turning it into liquid amber. There’s this playful glint in her hazel eyes that makes them shimmer like two drops of top-shelf whiskey. The sundress she’s wearing clings to her petite frame in a way that’s casual but deliberate, like a flag staked on the territory of her curves.
“I’m waiting.”
“Look,” she starts, tipping her head back to meet my gaze with a confidence that’s almost disarming. “I saw you back there, in the café. You were like some kind of cabernet Cupid, helping that girl with the spilled wine connect with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.”
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