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Love at Blind Date Complete Series: Books 1-4
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Love at Blind Date
Complete Series 1-4
Lorelei M. Hart
Colbie Dunbar
Surrendered Press
Surrendered Press
Love at Blind Date: Complete Series Books 1-4
Copyright © 2020 by Lorelei M. Hart and Colbie Dunbar
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Dean
2. Jesse
3. Dean
4. Jesse
5. Dean
6. Jesse
7. Dean
8. Jesse
9. Dean
10. Jesse
11. Dean
12. Jesse
13. Dean
14. Jesse
15. Dean
16. Jesse
17. Dean
18. Jesse
19. Dean
20. Jesse
21. Dean
22. Jesse
23. Dean
24. Jesse
25. Dean
26. Jesse
27. Dean
28. Jesse
29. Dean
30. Jesse
Epilogue
Blind Date for St. Patrick’s
31. Richard
32. Harry
33. Richard
34. Harry
35. Richard
36. Harry
37. Richard
38. Harry
39. Richard
40. Harry
41. Richard
42. Harry
43. Richard
44. Harry
45. Richard
46. Harry
47. Richard
48. Harry
49. Richard
50. Harry
51. Richard
52. Harry
53. Richard
54. Harry
55. Richard
56. Harry
57. Richard
58. Harry
59. Richard
60. Harry
61. Richard
62. Harry
63. Richard
64. Harry
65. Richard
Blind Date For Spring
66. Jason
67. Rex
68. Jason
69. Rex
70. Jason
71. Rex
72. Jason
73. Rex
74. Jason
75. Rex
76. Jason
77. Rex
78. Jason
79. Rex
80. Jason
81. Rex
82. Jason
83. Rex
84. Jason
85. Rex
86. Jason
87. Rex
88. Jason
89. Rex
90. Jason
91. Rex
92. Jason
93. Rex
94. Jason
95. Rex
96. Jason
97. Rex
98. Jason
99. Rex
Epilogue
Blind Date For Father’s Day
100. Keith
101. Ethan
102. Keith
103. Ethan
104. Keith
105. Ethan
106. Keith
107. Ethan
108. Keith
109. Ethan
110. Keith
111. Ethan
112. Keith
113. Ethan
114. Keith
115. Ethan
116. Keith
117. Ethan
118. Keith
119. Ethan
120. Keith
121. Ethan
122. Keith
123. Ethan
124. Keith
125. Ethan
126. Keith
127. Ethan
128. Keith
Also by Lorelei M. Hart & Colbie Dunbar
1
Dean
“Coffee?” Monty queried as he set down a stack of folders far taller than what I’d wanted to see today—or ever. I just gave him a nod and opened up the first one to find it filled with handwritten notes by our potential new client. No wonder they needed us if they were still using paper and pen to organize their marketing, and from the looks of the stack, everything else.
“Please for the love of Pete, tell me this is all of it,” I mumbled half to myself as Monty, who was my assistant, placed the mug of life force in front of me. I was going to more than need it to weed through all of this.
“There is another small stack. How are they a half-a-billion-dollar company?” Nothing in their business practices shouted success. Nothing.
“Hardcore fans who utilize social media well, I suppose. It sure isn’t their ability to market. Did they really send over all of their originals?” When I’d asked for their current marketing strategy so we could develop our proposal for them, I expected a zip drive or possibly a small letter with bullet points if they were holding things close to the vest. Not once had I expected to get a box in the mail...not once.
“I can scan these all for you, if that will make it easier,” Monty offered.
Why did this have to be such a big contract? My boss had more than hinted that this was the key to proving I belonged in my new position as one of the vice presidents, and that was the only reason I hadn’t just randomly created a mock-up and called it good.
“Naw, this will do. It is actually quite telling of how their company thinks.” Or in this case, doesn’t. Anything could have happened to these papers—which, the more I looked at them, the more I realized that might not be a bad thing.
“You know what you need?” Monty smirked. No no no no not the Please find a mate spiel.
“To wake up from a bad marketing dream?” I was only half joking. Sure, landing the deal would look great on my performance evaluation and would go far in proving my worth to the company, but after I landed it, I would be stuck appeasing someone who sends a box of random papers slapped in dated folders and expecting that is how you do business. I had a feeling that they were going to be far more trouble than they were worth. Not that my opinion mattered—not yet. I was getting there, though, and this was one more step up.
“No, you need an omega in your life.” And find a mate it was. To be fair, he’d left me alone about my dating or lack thereof since Christmas when he strategically placed mistletoe around the office party that he brought his “nephew” to. Turned out it was just a guy he met at the library he thought I would hit it off with. And honestly, the guy seemed nice enough. He was also far more interested in the married president of the company than me. There was so much about that I wasn’t going to touch with a five-hundred-foot pole.
“Hardly.” I sighed, shutting the folder, not so much to focus on the conversation at hand but so that I could block that stressor out for a couple of seconds. “I have too much work to do to bother with that. Besides, I have Stu.”
“Stu has four paws and a bad temperament.” He did not. He was just particular. Very particular. “He hardly counts.”
“Liar.” He pointed to the coffee which was now getting cold, and I obediently picked it up and took a sip. He’d been with me since I was a division head, and this wasn't the first time I saw that me being in charge was in words only.
“I didn't say I would follow it.” I settled my cup down. And I deliberately hadn’t because he was right. I had zero intention of doing anything but work for the foreseeable future.
“Friday, you are going on a date.” His hands formed fists at his hips, and I rolled my eyes.
“Friday is Valentine’s Day.” The last thing anyone wants to do is go on a blind date on the night of true love and all that bullshit. Even if he convinced me to go, the other guy wouldn’t be likely to show, and it would be a double waste of time. “Pretty sure I need someone special in my life for that.”
“I have someone special for you.” Of course he did. “He’s a doctor—finishing up his residency and he’s not bad to look at. If I were thirty years younger I’d tap that.”
“Ewww.” No one likes to think of their grandfather figure as tapping anything...just no.
“I’m ignoring that comment.” He tsked his finger, “His name is Richard and he has reservations for two at L’Amour at seven on Friday.”
L’Amour. The place where lovers went for heart-shaped everything. Definitely not the place for a first date—especially not a blind one. There were far too many expectations associated with that kind of a date, and none of those expectations led to a Thanks that was fun—please tell Monty I was polite kind of ending. I ventured to guess half the couples went there to get engaged. Nope. Not a place for a first date.
“You already told him I would go.” I avoided the location and went straight to his pushiness. Some days I didn’t mind. It had become almost a game, thwarting his matchmaking attempts, but I wasn’t in the mood, especially when he’d already committed me to the date.
“Of course I did.” And from the slight shake of his head, I had a hunch he saw absolutely nothing wrong with it. “If not, you would say you were busy just like you did the past four times I got you a hottie.” Fair enough. “That’s why I had to go to drastic measures in December.”
“You mean, make up relatives?” He had the decency to look down at that one. It hadn’t been his shining moment. “I don’t need you to set me up with men.”
“You need someone—you’re going to end up old and alone.” Probably. But what was wrong with that? Not everyone got married and had two-point-five kids and lived in the burbs. It wasn’t a requirement for happiness by any stretch. “Don’t you want a Marty in your life?”
When he said it that way, with the softening of his voice at the mention of his husband, I saw his point. They were happier than happy even if they sounded like a comedy duo: Monty and Marty. They never had kids of their own, it just wasn’t in the cards for them, both being alphas, but they had so much love between them. Monty told me often enough the best day of his life was when the two met.
“Just because you found your true love in high school and are still sickeningly happy decades later doesn’t mean we all will.” Although high-school me had thought he’d had it all worked out. I had planned out my entire life with my high-school crush, who while always kind to me, never showed a lick of interest in being anything more than my tutee in math.
“Nope, but you can have a nice time on Valentine’s Day.”
And that was when he got me. I could have a nice night. It wouldn’t lead to rings and babies, but it could be fun as long as we were both on the same page. For all I knew, he had been badgered by Marty the way I'd been badgered by Monty and just agreed to get him off his back.
The restaurant did have a reputation for decadent cheesecake.
“How do I know he’s not a serial killer?”
“He’s a neighbor—I’d have noticed dead bodies. Besides, he has a school teacher roommate—teachers don’t put up with spitballs, much less murder.”
I didn’t bother arguing that neighbors were always the last to know when it came to serial killers.
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
“Nope.” He opened the folder in front of me back up. “You’re welcome.”
And we spent the rest of the day organizing the mess, which scarily started to make sense by the time we ordered food in, and bordered on genius by the time we left only hours before we’d have to be back. The date wasn’t mentioned again that night. If it had, I might have thought to do something crazy like get his last name or phone number or even what color hair he had. Guess it truly was a blind date.
2
Jesse
I flung the keys on the entry table and dumped my bag on the floor as the phone in my pocket buzzed. It was Friday, and I was pooped. The end of a long school week filled with the usual classes, piles of paperwork—most of which was stuff demanded by admin and took hours away from what I should have been doing—along with parents complaining about their children, me, the school, or all three.
And then there were the precious moments where I connected with kids and, hopefully, made a difference in their lives. That’s what kept me doing a job which wasn’t well-paid but that I loved.
Please don’t let this be the principal telling me to cover for one of the P.E. teachers at the away football match tomorrow. I’m beat. My plan for the weekend consisted of sleeping, eating, more sleeping, and if I had enough energy, meeting a friend for a beer Sunday afternoon. If not, it was more sleeping.
But as I peered at the screen, I stared upward and sent up a quick ‘Thank you.’ Someone was looking out for me. It was my roommate Richard. “Hey. What’s up?” Brakes screeched in the street and a car pulled up outside as Richard’s garbled voice was transmitted through the phone.
“Jesse, I need a huge favor.”
I dropped the phone on the couch and headed for the kitchen as my roommate bounded through the front door. There was a cold bottle of beer with my name on it, and it was calling me.
After living with Richard for a few years, I was used to his tangled love life, and it didn’t surprise me he’d gotten himself into a mess. I took a swig of beer. “God, that’s good.”
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and plopped onto the couch as my roommate tore around the apartment. “Have you broken another alpha’s heart, Richard?” I didn’t plan on spending my Friday night offering yet another of his spurned lovers tissues and a shoulder to cry on. Been there, done that.
It wasn’t that he was an omega playboy—far from it. But he was in love with the idea of being in love. He gave his heart so easily and then, realizing his mistake, regretted the promises he’d made.
“Jesse, I really need your help.”
“Mmmm.” I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
“I’ve just been called into work.” Richard was a doctor at our local hospital. Technically, he was a resident and the lowest on the totem pole in terms of being called in when they were short of staff.
“Okay.” I was hoping he’d be out the door before he remembered he needed a favor.
“Today’s Valentine’s Day.”
It is? “Awww and you wanted me to come out with you and be your wing man? What a shame you have to work.” It was anything but. I’d made that mistake too many times and it always ended with me nursing a beer at the bar while Richard flirted with an alpha or two—or three.
My roommate paused his frantic rushing around and, taking the remote, flicked off the TV.
“I was watching that.”
“This is important.”
“So was whoever was going to be thrown out of the house on
that reality show.” Damn him! I was in the mood for mindless television.
“I was set up on a blind date by a friend.”
I shrugged. “And now you have to cancel. What’s the big deal?”
“Because Monty went to a lot of trouble to make this happen”