Marie Ferrarella
“I believe when we last saw Isabelle and Brandon, she was in his arms and he was having a difficult time controlling his desire for her.”
Isabelle laughed. “Are you planning on narrating everything that happens between us?” she asked.
“Probably not.” He brushed his lips against each cheek. “Suspense thrillers are my forte, not romantic scenes, remember?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t exactly say that,” she contradicted. “You seem to have a very natural aptitude for romantic scenes.”
“Nice of you to notice,” he told her, continuing to shower her face with tiny, arousing kisses. “I think you should know that no matter what I’m doing, I always try to top whatever I’ve done before.”
“Well then, in the words of the immortal Bette Davis, I guess I’d better fasten my seat belt, because it’s going to be a bumpy night.”
“Don’t bother fastening anything,” he instructed. “I’ll only have to unfasten it.”
Brandon Slade is a bestselling author who seems to have it all: looks, money, a sense of humor. He even has a movie icon as a mother. But famous people need loving, too, and Brandon was once married to someone he’d thought was the woman of his dreams, only to have her abandon him and their infant daughter. It made him leery of romantic entanglements and very leery of his own ability to judge a person accurately. All of which makes his mother despair that he will ever get married again.
As for Isabelle Sinclair, she’s decided that she’s perfectly happy dedicating herself to “fixing broken people.” She’s a physical therapist who thrives on challenges and brings her own personal brand of enthusiasm to her work. She’s in business with her older sister, Zoe, who, like Brandon’s mother, worries that Isabelle will never know the joy of having her own family. But once Zoe and Brandon’s mother make their fears known to Cecilia Parnell, one third of our Matchmaking Mamas, all they have to do is sit back and wait for the magic to happen. Because it does.
As ever, I thank you for reading, and from the bottom of my heart I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
With love,
Marie
To Patience Smith,
who keeps letting me
continue
spinning my stories
in the
school yard
Prologue
Maizie Sommers raised her eyes from the five fanned out cards she held in her hand and slowly scanned the faces of her two very best, lifelong friends, Theresa Manetti and Cecilia Parnell. They were playing poker. The weekly game was the excuse they used in order to take a temporary break from their thriving businesses. They would get together to catch up, share and gossip, although Theresa preferred to call it “a review of local news.”
Lately, of equal importance was their continuing passion for matchmaking. And they were good at it.
“So, ladies, any prospects or projects in the offing?” Maizie asked hopefully. Her lively eyes shifted from one face to the other. Faces she knew as well as, if not better than, her own.
The past few weeks had gone by without any of them calling the others, excitedly stating that their services—those outside of the real estate business that Maizie ran, the high-end cleaning service that belonged to Cecilia or the popular catering business that had initially begun in Theresa’s kitchen—were once more required.
Cecilia frowned at the hand she had been dealt and separated four of the five cards she held, disdainfully putting them face down on the table.
“Well, I don’t know if this constitutes a ‘project,’” she began offhandedly, “But Anastasia Del Vecchio was carrying on again about her son’s single status. The last time I was overseeing the cleaning crew at her mausoleum of a house, she told me that she would be going on tour in this revival for the next six months. She would really love to leave him and her granddaughter in good hands.”
Maizie paused, thinking. Remembering. “Her son’s that writer, isn’t he? The one who writes those bestselling thrillers, right?”
“Brandon Slade.” Cecilia supplied the author’s name. “I clean both their houses.” She leaned slightly forward, sharing a confidence. “Brandon is rather organized for a man. As for her, Anastasia couldn’t pick up after herself if her life depended on it.”
“She’s an actress. It’s not part of her repertoire,” Maizie commented with a soft laugh. “As for hoping to leave her son in ‘good hands,’ I’m sure someone as famous and successful as Brandon Slade never lacks for female companionship.”
“There’s a difference between ‘female companionship’ and a woman of substance, the kind a man could spend the rest of his life with,” Theresa interjected with a knowing expression.
The others knew she was referring to what would have, until recently, described her son Kullen’s situation. The highly successful, handsome young lawyer had once had a different woman on his arm every week. They had arranged things so that he reconnected with the only woman who had ever meant anything to him. A woman, thanks to them, he would soon marry.
Maizie stopped pretending that the cards had any sort of a hold on her attention and placed them all face down on the card table. She slanted a look at Theresa.
“I know that tone. You have someone in mind for Anastasia’s son, don’t you?”
Theresa smiled. Of the three of them, she was the shyest. But her convictions and loyalties were just as fierce as those her friends harbored.
“Let’s just say I have someone who needs to be led to water,” Theresa admitted subtly.
“Give,” Cecilia ordered, shifting to the edge of her seat and looking at her friend expectantly.
“I catered a lunch for Healing Hands—it’s a private physical therapy organization,” Theresa explained, answering the silent quizzical looks she saw on Cecilia’s and Maizie’s faces. “The owner, Zoe Sinclair, said she was worried about her younger sister, Isabelle. She said Isabelle was entirely too dedicated,
