Pity Present
Whitney Dineen
(Pity Series #5)
Publication date: October 24th 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Molly
I haven’t beeninterested in dating since my ex dumped me for a new girl at his law office. Since then, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a hotel gift shop designer. While being single isn’t what I expected, there’s truth to that old saying, “Once bitten, twice shy.” And the bite of a cheater stays with you.
Christmas can be a particularly vulnerable time, which is why I accepted a job right before the holidays. I had no idea the lodge that hired me was also hosting a singles’ event. Imagine my surprise when they had a last-minute cancellation and asked me if I wanted to join them.
Blake
When I left LA for my dream job in Chicago, I never dreamed by first assignment would be spending two weeks in Elk Lake, Wisconsin, covering the Midwestern Matchmaker’s new venture to set up Chicagoland singles. I’m a sports journalist for Pete’s sake, not some airheaded twit who writes about the lovelorn.
Unfortunately, the job I transferred for isn’t open yet, so here I am. In Wisconsin. Living my worst nightmare. There is no way anybody is going to find love at this thing. No way.
So, imagine my surprise when the most awkward woman in the world trips over me …
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EXCERPT:
When the train pulls into the Elk Lake stop, I jump to my feet and practically run for the exit. Unfortunately, I don’t see the foot blocking the aisle. As such, I wind up making a spectacular display as I trip up the aisle for several yards. My performance is akin to a vaudevillian physical comedy routine. Luckily, a hand reaches out to steady me before I hit the ground. “Whoa there. I’ve got you.”
I take a moment to catch my breath before turning to thank my rescuer. One look at his hazelly green eyes and chiseled jaw renders me nearly speechless. Is that a tan? I finally manage to say, “Thump queue.”
The Adonis stands up and reaches toward his overnight bag. “Excuse me?”
“Thump queue,” I repeat before forcing my mouth to form proper words. “I mean, thank you.”
His lips curve ever so slightly before he responds with a wink. “You’re welcome.”
I know I just told my sister I wasn’t interested in dating and that she was crazy to suggest I might be about to embark upon my very own cheesy movie experience, but for a split second, a wave of possibility washes over me. Before I can stop myself, I ask, “You aren’t a lumberjack by any chance, are you?”
His eyes widen. “No.”
Feeling foolish, I try to think of something to say that will make me seem less weird. I decide to go with, “Me neither.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Good to know. I hear it’s hard work.”
I’m going to be single forever. While I claim to be fine with that outcome, I secretly want to find the man of my dreams, get married, have two point five children, and then adopt a Bernese Mountain puppy or three. The house in the suburbs and white picket fence are a given.
Turning around, I continue to make my way off the train while chastising myself for being such an idiot. I step down to the ground before lugging my suitcase to my side. The gorgeous stranger is behind me, but he doesn’t stick around to continue our inane small talk. Instead, he veers to the right and exits the platform.
I don’t move as quickly. I simply look around at my charming surroundings. There’s nothing like a small-town train station decorated for the holidays. The depot windows are strung with colored lights. The old-fashioned streetlamps lining the walkway are festooned with flocked wreaths, and Christmas carols are booming from the speakers against the side of the building.
Laughingly, I tell myself, “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.” Not that Chicago is at all comparable to Kansas, but a certain Wizard of Oz magic seems to have overtaken me.
I appreciate my surroundings for long enough that by the time I turn around, I’m the only person left on the platform. The text I received from the Elk Lake Lodge said they would send a driver to pick me up. As such, I make my way through the depot to the other side of the building.
The sidewalk is covered in fresh snow, so I’m careful to step into the footprints left by others. I look around for a van with the hotel’s name on it, but the only vehicle at the curb is a dark blue Suburban. Before I can approach it, a gaunt middle-aged man wearing a gray parka steps out. “Molly Anders?”
I throw a hand up in the air and reply, “That’s me!”
He walks over and takes possession of my suitcase before putting it in the back hatch. Then he opens the door for me. “Name’s Paul. You’re my last pickup which is good because we’re expecting more snow.” I’m glad I decided to come tonight and not wait until morning.
Getting into the back of the truck, I’m greeted by a familiar face. “Hey, there.” It’s the hottie from the train.
“Hey, hi. Fancy meeting you here.”
The driver gets in and asks, “You two know each other?”
Before I can answer, my seat mate explains, “We met on the train. Neither of us are lumberjacks.” Kill me now.
Author Bio:
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.
She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.
Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.
Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.
Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.
Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.
Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017
Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017
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