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

She flicked on her laptop and reached for her water while she waited for the machine to boot. Her desk was cluttered. Papers stacked high, scribbles and notes, two coffee mugs abandoned and forgotten. When she worked, she focused and that included blocking out the mess.

When her phone rang she checked the caller ID and answered immediately. “Dad! How are you doing?” She listened as her father told her about his latest adventure. He’d moved from London a few months before her embarrassing fall from grace, something for which she would forever be thankful. Having retired from his job in an electronics company, he’d bought himself an RV and proceeded on an epic road trip of the continental US, exploring his homeland state by state. In a dusty, sunbaked town in Arizona he’d met Carly and they’d been together ever since.

Molly had met her once and liked her, but what she liked most of all was that her father was so happy. She remembered watching him, stumbling his way through those first few years after her mother had left, his confidence drowned in the wake of monumental rejection.

She couldn’t remember exactly when she’d started encouraging him to date. It had started in school, during her teenage years, when she’d realized that she was more interested in observing other people’s relationships than in having one herself. And observing had uncovered an ability to match people up. She could see it so clearly. Who would be good together and who wouldn’t. Whose relationship would last, and whose would crash on the rocks at the first sign of rough seas. Word had spread that she had a gift. And she loved using that gift. Why not? It was hard to find the right person in this crowded, crazy world. Sometimes people needed a little help.

They’d called her The Matchmaker. Which was a lot better than the name she’d earned herself a few years later.

At school, most of her lunchtimes and a large chunk of her evenings were taken up giving relationship advice. Having seen her father exhaust himself trying to please her mother and failing, she’d always encouraged people to be themselves. If you weren’t loved for who you were, a relationship had no future. She knew that. If you weren’t enough for someone, you’d never be enough.

No matter how hard he’d tried, her father hadn’t been enough for her mother.

Molly hadn’t been enough for her mother either.

Her father’s voice boomed down the phone, dragging her back to the present. “How’s my girl?”

“I’m good.” She deleted a few spam emails with a stab of her finger. “Busy. Working on proofs of my next book.”

“Always helping other people with their relationships. How about your own? And I’m not talking about Valentine.”

“I have plenty of men in my life, Dad. I have a packed schedule. Tuesday and Friday is salsa dancing, Thursday is spin class, Wednesday is cooking class, Monday is theater group—there are men at all those places.”

“But you’re single.”

“That’s right. It’s because I’m single I can do all those things.”

“Relationships are important, honey. You’re the one who always told me that.”

“I have relationships. I had supper with Gabe and Mark a few nights ago. Mark is taking an Italian cookery class. His tortellini is incredible, you should taste it.”

“Gabe and Mark are gay.”

“So? They’re my closest friends.” Although she’d never truly tested that friendship, of course. She’d discovered to her cost that the test of true friendship was whether you were willing to stand by someone being named and shamed. She seriously hoped she never had to test that out again. “And friendship is a relationship. They’re great listeners and very happy together. It’s good to be around them.”

“You know you’re a hypocrite? All those years you tried to pair me up with someone and told me to take the risk, but you won’t take the risk yourself.”

“That’s different. I didn’t like seeing you on your own. You have wonderful qualities that were crying out to be shared with someone special.”

“You have wonderful qualities, too, Molly.” He made a little sound. “Still feels weird calling you that.”

“It’s my name, Dad.”

“But not one we ever used until you moved to New York. Do you feel like Molly?”

“I definitely feel like Molly. I like being Molly. And I share Molly’s qualities with a bunch of people who appreciate them.”

A sigh reverberated down the phone. “I worry about you. I worry this is all my fault. I feel responsible.”

“You’re not responsible.” It was a conversation they’d had numerous times over the years, despite the fact that in the weeks and months after her mother had left, Molly had only ever cried in the bathroom where her father couldn’t witness her distress. The rest of the time she pretended she was coping well because she hadn’t wanted to make it worse for him. It was hideously unjust, she thought, that he felt guilty about something over which he’d had no control.

“Carly read your book. She thinks you have abandonment issues.”

“She’s right. I do. But I came to terms with that a long time ago.” Molly picked up her pen and started doodling on the pad next to her desk. Maybe she should get a coloring book. They were the latest non-medicinal stress reliever. She glanced at Valentine. “Maybe I could use a black marker pen and join your dots.”

“What?” Her father sounded confused. “Why are you using marker pen?”

“I’m not. It was a joke. Dad, you need to stop worrying about me. I’m the psychologist in this relationship.”

“I know, and I know people talk to you about everything. But who do you talk to, honey? Do something for me. Go on a date. Do it for me.”

“Do you have anyone in mind? Or should I just grab the first person I meet on the street?” She thought about the man in the park with the wicked blue eyes and the sexy smile. Just thinking about him was enough to get her heart pumping a little harder.

“If that’s what it takes. Just get out there. Get your confidence back. In all those things you go to, you’re telling me you haven’t met a single man who has gained your attention?”

“Not one.” Molly glanced at Valentine, pleased that he couldn’t talk. If he could, right now he’d be calling her a liar. “So where are you and Carly going next?”

“Traveling north to Oregon. We’re going to hike part of the Pacific Crest Trail.”

“Have fun and send me photos.”

“Carly has started a blog, You’re Never Too Old to Be Bold. ”

“I’ll take a look. And now I need to go, I have a ton of work to do. Go and be bold. Only try not to do it in public. And give Carly my love.” With a smile, she ended the call and returned to her computer.

She was happy being single. And if that seemed like a strange admission for someone who specialized in relationships, she didn’t care. These days she separated her work life from her real life.

Her mind wandered back to the guy in the park. For a few forbidden seconds she wondered what it would be like to be with a man like him and then she snapped herself back to the present.

She knew what it would be like to be with a man like him. Trauma and trouble.

She wasn’t going to wonder if she was a coward for not accepting his offer of coffee.

It wasn’t cowardice, it was common sense.

It meant that she’d learned from experience, and experience told her that an invitation to coffee didn’t stop there. It was a beginning, not an end, and she wasn’t in the mood to begin anything. Especially not with a man like Daniel. Daniel…? She realized she didn’t know his last name.

She opened an email and read the question.