Who Needs Cupid?
by Molly O'Keefe
Harlequin Superromance #1392
January 2007
ISBN
0-373-71392-4
| Reviews |
Excerpt |
Down with Cupid!
Elle Adams, Rebecca Potter and Lucky Morgan all have valid reasons for
distrusting Cupid. And with February 14 coming on fast, they decide to take
matters into their own hands. If the plucky little cherub can't do his job,
they'll sweeten the odds.
But it looks as if Cupid wasn't out to lunch. He was just waiting for
the right moment to make things interesting. Now find out what happens when he
finally launches those arrows.
WHO NEEDS CUPID? (4.5) is a delightful collection of
well-written stories about the ability of the power of love to overcome all
obstacles. In "Lucky in Love" by Susan Floyd, Lucky gets her own miracle
when the love of her life, pastor Josh, realizes that what he really needs to be
happy is very close to home. "The Max Factor" by Debra Salonen centers on
coffee shop owner Ellenore, who hates Valentine's Day until teacher Arnold shows
her it's not so bad after all. And in "A Valentine for Rebecca" by Molly
O'Keefe, Becca's handmade Valentine's Day cards, a friend and a student in her
art class help her catch the man of her dreams, Will. All three authors
should be applauded for their excellent storytelling. This is a
light-hearted and fun read." -- Alexandra Kay, Romantic Times BookClub 4.5
STARS!!
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"LET'S KILL CUPID."
"How?"
"Poison. I could leave a cup of strychnine-laced cocoa on the counter
the night before Valentine's Day and—"
"That's Santa, Aunt Ellenore. Get your holidays straight," Becca said
with a playful grin.
"Your niece is right. Cupid is a mythical being and commercial icon.
You can't kill him," the ever-practical Lucky concurred. "Much as I
might want to," she added in a low grumble.
"We can try," Elle insisted stubbornly. The three friends had spent
their usual Friday night get-together bemoaning their status as single,
eligible, underappreciated goddesses-in-the-making. Tonight, Elle was
sick of self-pity. Lucky's recent unlucky experience at putting her
heart on the line had pushed Elle firmly toward anger.
"What if we burn him in effigy? Right out front where the gas pumps
used to be. Becca, you're an artist. You could create a papier-mâché
piñata thingee with wings and a golden bow and arrows. All the people
Cupid has burned in the past would come and cheer. It'd be a party. And
good for business," she added, looking around her beloved but dying
coffee bar. For nine months she'd poured her heart and soul—and
savings—into Cup O' Love Café and Gifts, the sort of
Starbucks-with-heart she'd established in her parents' remodeled
Conoco station located at Main and Sixth in her hometown of Fenelon
Falls, Illinois. Local residents hadn't exactly jumped at the chance to
support her efforts.
"Elle, I love you. You're my friend. And I appreciate your outrage on
my behalf, but...that's truly cracked." Lucky Morgan was in her early
thirties. Smart about business. Truly clever when it came to eBay
auctions. And adorable. Unfortunately she'd also just had her heart
broken by a man who should have snapped her up in a heartbeat.
Where was Cupid when Lucky was making a fool of herself by asking
Pastor Joshua Watts to marry her? Elle silently questioned.
"It's also against Fenelon Falls' fire codes," Rebecca added. Her
niece was a few years younger than Lucky. A gifted artist, but far too
modest and reserved for someone so beautiful. Sweet as the honey buns
Elle served every morning, and chronically downtrodden, thanks to Elle's
older sister, Jane.
Elle huffed impatiently. "You girls aren't helping. I thought we'd
decided we were through being victims of the nearsighted little imp.
Last year onValentine's Day I was out with a guy who said he was
divorced, but turned out to have left his wife the week before." She let
out a long, defeated sigh. "Needless to say, our mutual attraction went
nowhere."
"Were you his rebound fling?" Lucky asked, looking troubled.
"Just plain fling. He went back to his wife before the month was
out." Elle made a fist and pounded it on the coffee table where their
bottle of wine was resting. "That's why I say we do something proactive
this year."
Becca shuddered. "My mother's favorite word."
"Josh says the best revenge is a life well spent," Lucky stated, the
quiver in her voice betraying her still raw anguish.
"He's a preacher. What do you expec—Hey, wait. That might work. We
could use Cupid's pointy little arrows against him."
"I don't think that's what Josh meant."
Becca shuddered. "Will there be blood? I get queasy watching
House."
Elle laughed. "No blood, dear heart. I promise. We'll use the
Internet."
Lucky and Becca exchanged a look. "To do what? Set up a Web site that
gives you ten ways to kill Cupid?"
"Maybe next year," Elle said patiently. "This year we'll try for
something a little more upbeat."
"Will it help me sell more greeting cards?" Becca asked. Profits from
the sale of her unique, handmade valentines helped to fund the
after-school arts program Becca offered on the second floor of the Cup.
Elle nodded. "The more business I bring in, the more cards you'll
sell. I guarantee it. That's why I've decided to look into the
possibility of installing a WiFi connection at the Cup. I know that
means sinking more money into what my sister calls a sinking ship, but
if we could come up with some creative ploy that ties Valentine's Day
and the Internet to Cup O' Love, I'd make back my investment in no time.
And then I'd be able to say 'So, there' to Jane."
"You shouldn't worry so much about what my mother thinks," Becca said
in a tone that captured her mother's scold perfectly. "Isn't that what
you're always telling me?"
Elle nodded with chagrin. Since her arrival back in her hometown, the
gulf between Elle and Jane had widened—partly because of Elle's
perceived interference in Becca's life. Partly because Jane was...Jane.
And Elle was Ellenore Adams, the girl most likely to screw up.
"People love to think they're getting something for nothing," Lucky
said, appearing to give Elle's proposal serious thought. "What if you do
some kind of online promotion that ends up with a big party here on the
fourteenth?"
Elle refilled her wineglass. The three friends always began their
Friday night get-togethers with tea or cocoa, depending on the season,
but invariably they wound up opening a bottle of vino.
"It would have to be romance-related," Becca said.
"People expect romance on Valentine's Day."
"Speaking of which," Lucky inserted, "when do I get my one-of-a-kind,
handmade Rebecca Potter V-Day cards? People are going to start asking
for them."
Becca rolled her eyes. "Mother gave me another account today, but I'm
working on them. Really. Soon. I promise."
Elle's heart twisted. She wanted so much for Becca to honor her
God-given talent and commit to her art, but her darling niece lacked the
confidence in her abilities—and herself—to throw her mother's agenda
aside and follow her heart.
Nobody spoke for a full minute. The only sound came from the hum of
the cash register and the constant rattle of the wind against the
windows. This was Elle's first full winter back in the heartland and her
heart still wasn't into the cold.
"What if you sponsored an online dateathon?" Becca asked. "That might
encourage people who didn't usually frequent the Internet to come into
the Cup and use yourWiFi."
Lucky looked intrigued. "Maybe you could have a MySpace.com format
where people could post their bios, then all the potential Mr. and Ms.
Rights would show up at the Cup on February fourteenth for a party."
Becca, who was in the overstuffed armchair she always claimed, sat
forward like an eager student and gave a little clap. "Excellent. And
you know who could set it up? Mr. Maxwell. Mom says Max is a genius
about all things electronic."
Elle swallowed too big a gulp of wine.
Max. As in Arnold Maxwell. Her old classmate in high school. Class
nerd. Boy she'd done wrong. Now, all grown up, Teacher of the Year two
years running. A widower. And one of the few locals who came in
to the café regularly.
She shook her head to refocus her wine-fuzzy thought patterns. "It's
an interesting idea, but do we have time? It's already the fifth of
January. I have no idea how long it takes to set up a WiFi system, but
even if Max could do it right away, by the time I organized the
publicity and built a new Web page...well, three to four weeks isn't
enough time to fall in love."
"Elle," Lucky groaned. "You're the one who started this discussion.
We're supposed to beat Cupid at his own game, right? Do-it-yourself
matchmaking. How good do we have to be? It's not like we really expect
anyone to fall in love, right?"
Becca nodded. "I'd settle for a date with a guy who didn't make fun
of the sentiments in my cards."
Elle laughed. "You're right. We're talking dates, not marriage. And
where do first dates usually take place?"
"At a coffee shop," Becca and Lucky returned in harmony. Their
mingled laughter was a sound warm enough to melt the frost triangles in
the corners of Cup O' Love's plate-glass windows.
The younger women filled their wineglasses, then all three friends
prepared to toast their success. "So, what are you calling this online
experiment, Elle? Do-it-yourself matchmaking dot com?" Lucky asked.
"How 'bout the Who Needs Cupid Alternative?" Becca suggested.
Elle shook her head. With appropriate solemnity, she held out her
glass and said, "To the Cup O' Love Dateathon. Where, even if you don't
find true love, you can still get a fine cup of coffee."
"ARE YOU SURE it's down here? All I see is a gaping black hole."
Elle Adams was squatting beside the concrete depression that had at
one time housed the old Conoco station's car lift, trying her damnedest
not to stare at the surprisingly fit and well-maintained rear end of the
man doing a combat crawl on her behalf.
Selfless. That's what Max had become. But when had he acquired such a
nice butt?
"Um, I think so. I seem to remember the contractor who remodeled this
place telling me he'd installed a conduit to house all the wiring that
went into the office. But that was shortly after we buried Mom. Jane and
I were still settling our parents' estate and well...it was tough. Do
you want me to call him?"
"Naw. I haven't given up yet."
Elle watched him roll to his side and shine his small,
high-tech-looking flashlight around the crawlspace. She didn't even want
to think about what was down there. Her father—renowned for cutting
corners whenever possible—had helped build the two-story brick and
wooden frame building in the early 1950s. Elle, Jane and their parents
had lived in the apartment above the garage until Elle was ten.
The elder Adamses had kept the service station open until Boyd's
heart bypass surgery, which had necessitated a partial retirement.
They'd continued to rent the building to a succession of retail
operations, but eventually a major chain opened a superstore twenty
miles away, sounding the death knell for Mom-and-Pop-type stores across
the county.
Only in the past few years had Fenelon Falls, a relatively untouched
hamlet just an hour or so west of Chicago, seen a resurgence in
commercial activity. Commuters were looking for big city convenience
coupled with small town charm. The old downtown had undergone a rebirth,
and Elle was determined to do her part—with or without her sister's
support.
They were fast approaching the second anniversary of Elle's father's
death. On Valentine's Day morning 2005, Boyd Adams had suffered a
massive heart attack while shoveling the sidewalk so the florist could
deliver the dozen roses he'd ordered for his wife. Giving Elle yet
another reason to hate the holiday.
Not that she planned to share her feelings with anyone. She was a
businessperson and V-Day meant kaching in the cash register,
which is why she was now scrambling to get the WiFi installed. Cup O'
Love Café and Gifts wouldn't be open this time next year if she didn't
start showing some kind of profit.
She'd opened the specialty coffee bar nine months earlier. A
ridiculous gamble, Jane had said, but one Elle's mother had supported
before her death, which had come as a shock to everyone, except Elle.
Elle had returned home on the first anniversary of her father's death
to help her mother recover from hip replacement surgery. Elle's two-week
stay had turned into months as complication after complication took away
her mother's will to go on. Until one lovely spring morning, Margery
simply hadn't woken up.
A delayed victim of Valentine's Day, in Elle's opinion. By then, Elle
was too committed to her new business to back out. A month later, the
Cup was up and running—right down the street from Jane's staid,
respectable and flourishing accounting office.
"You are the most impetuous person I've ever known," Jane had
complained when Elle'd first introduced her business plan. "Why would
you assume that just because you find it annoying not to be able
to buy a cup of fancy coffee in Fenelon Falls that everyone else in town
does, too?"
Foolhardy. Another one of the words Jane used to describe Elle. But
Elle wasn't done fighting. Even if she lost every penny of her
investment, she would go down with a flourish.
After last Friday's brainstorming session with Lucky and Becca, Elle
had called Max. "How much would it cost to set up a WiFi station—or
whatever it's called—at the Cup?"
"I have no idea, but I'll find out." And true to his word, he'd
reported back to her with several options. The most affordable only
required a DSL line and a wireless router, which he was in the process
of hooking up...provided she had the right kind of telephone cable.
"Have you given any more thought to that dateathon idea I mentioned?"
Elle asked.
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