Sarah Morgan - New York, Actually - A sparkling romantic comedy from the bestselling Queen of Romance

“The relationship expert?”

“How is it that everyone knows this woman except me?”

“Are you in the habit of asking for advice on relationships?”

“Why would I ask for advice on relationships? I’ve seen every permutation of relationship known to man. And woman.”

“And yet you’re single.”

“Which is why I’m single. So tell me what you know about Aggie.”

Marsha smiled. “She’s wonderful. I bought her book.”

“She’s written a book ?”

“ Mate for Life. You didn’t see it? It was at the top of all the bestseller lists and in every bookstore.”

“I shop online, a consequence of never leaving my office during store opening hours.”

“It was online, too. Excellent book. She’s wise and sensible.”

“Really? Because she told Elisa and Henry they should get back together for the sake of the children. I don’t see anything wise or sensible about that.”

Marsha pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be better for the children.”

“Are you kidding? Elisa and Henry loathe each other. Their children will be permanently scarred. Why people think that is the best outcome completely escapes me.” Intercepting the curious look in Marsha’s face, Daniel inhaled slowly and gestured to his laptop. “Find me something she has written. I need to know more about her.”

“That should be easy.” Marsha walked around his desk. “You could start by reading the letter Max wrote to her.”

“He wrote to her?” Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “As a joke, I assume?”

“Why would you assume that? We both know Max needs serious help in the relationship department. Remember the coffee machine he bought his girlfriend as a gift?”

“Call me insensitive, but my interest in my team’s personal life only extends to serious life events, not gift choices.”

“This was serious.” Marsha clicked on a link. “He bought her a coffee machine. She sold it on eBay. They broke up.”

Daniel frowned. “Why did she sell it? Wrong brand?”

“She doesn’t drink coffee.”

Daniel started to laugh. “And he had to write to ask what he’d done wrong?”

“This is Max we’re talking about, so yes. He said that a coffee machine made him happy, and that she should be happy that he was happy. She didn’t see it that way. How he ever passed the bar I will never know.”

“As you say, he’s a brilliant lawyer and ferociously bright.”

“Not when it comes to women. Here.” She scrolled down. “Read. Not that you need any help with relationships.”

Ask a Girl.

The words were picked out in a bold blue.

Daniel frowned. “‘Ask a Girl’ what? What sort of things do people ask?”

“Anything. Everything. Her advice is honest and direct. She has a huge following.”

“So she really knows how to milk it.”

“She’s a businesswoman. She has a gift, and knowledge, and she uses it. It’s not like you to deride a woman for being smart.”

“I’m not deriding her for being smart. I’m deriding her for taking advantage of the vulnerable and giving dangerous advice.”

“That’s your opinion, Daniel. And although plenty of folks pay squillions of dollars an hour to hear your opinion, it doesn’t mean you’re always right on everything.”

“I’m right on this.”

“Her column is good. Interesting. I read it every week. We all do.”

“All?”

“All of the women here, and even some of the men. The blog is only part of it. She answers questions, and I think she offers one-to-one relationship counseling over the phone.”

Daniel scrolled through the pages of her website. “There’s no photo. What does she look like?”

“She never uses a photo. Just the heart logo.”

“So she doesn’t have a last name, and she won’t show her face. Anyone who won’t show their face must have a reason. Maybe she’s not a person. Maybe she’s a bunch of computer tech guys laughing their heads off.”

“No way would the advice she gives ever have been written by a guy.”

“That’s sexist.”

“It’s true,” she said drily. “Read for yourself.”

He read.

Dear Aggie, there’s a woman at work who is a goddess. I’m an ordinary guy, nothing special. How can a man like me ever attract the attention of someone like her? Am I wasting my time? Yours, Underconfident.

Daniel glanced up in disbelief. “This is a joke, yes?”

“It’s real.”

“And does she give an answer? Mine would be, yes, you’re wasting your time. Grow a spine.”

“Which is why you’re not the one answering the question. Not that I expect you to understand, but some men have trouble approaching women. They don’t all have your success rate.”

Daniel thought about the woman in the park. His success rate had taken a serious tumble. “Does she reply?”

“Scroll down. Her reply is underneath. And people are allowed to post their advice, too. It’s a community.”

“A community of people who don’t know what they’re talking about. Kill me now. Dear Underconfident —” his gaze flicked briefly to Marsha “—can you believe someone actually called himself that?”

“I think it’s adorably honest.”

“It’s prophetic. You are what you think you are.” He read on. “ Dear Underconfident, everyone is special in their own way— seriously? Can you get me a bucket? I’m feeling ill.”

“Just because you’re not the sentimental type, doesn’t mean it’s rubbish. Not everyone is afraid of emotion.”

“Just because I have full control over my emotions, doesn’t mean I’m afraid. But I do have a healthy respect for the damage emotion can cause. In relationships, emotion drives bad decisions.” His voice shook and Marsha stared at him as if he’d grown horns and wings.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” She spoke cautiously. “Is there something personal going on here I should know about?”

“No.”

“We’ve worked together for five years and I’m old enough to be your mother. Despite your claim to being heartless, we both know you’re not. You helped me when I was at my lowest point and I hope you know you can always talk to me in confidence.”

“There’s nothing I need to talk about. And you are nothing like my mother.” Realizing he’d said too much, Daniel dragged his hand over the back of his neck and hauled his feelings back inside. He didn’t want to think about his mother. He’d long since come to terms with what had happened. He’d been a kid, for goodness’ sake. He’d done what he could. And he’d helped numerous women since then. More than he could count. “Emotion is what brings people streaming into my office. If more people engaged their brains instead of their hormones, the divorce rate would be lower.”

“And you wouldn’t be earning millions.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but the money has always been secondary.” Trying to distract himself, he scanned a few more questions on the site, fascinated and appalled. “Real-life people actually write in asking her this stuff? They can’t figure it out for themselves?” He tried to imagine what sort of person would be comfortable exposing such intimate, private secrets in such a public forum.

Marsha looked amused. “Have you ever asked advice about women?”

“I already know everything I need to know about women, including the fact that this woman is exploiting people who are emotionally vulnerable.” Daniel flipped the screen shut and caught a glimpse of Marsha’s expression. “What?”

“Please tell me you see the irony of that. You’re the divorce attorney everyone hopes their spouse won’t hire.”