Who Needs Cupid?
Harlequin Superromance |
January 2007
ISBN-10: 0373713924
ISBN-13: 978-0373713929
“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.
Reviews
"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 lighthearted and fun read."
—Alexandra Kay, RT
The Prologue
“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 concurreded. “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 the artist. You could create a paper-mache piñata thingee with wings and a golden bow and arrows. And all the people Cupid’s 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.
“And 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. 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 on Valentine’s Day I was out with a guy who said he was divorced, but turned out he’d just left his wife the week before.” She let out a long, defeated sigh. “Needless to say, our mutual attraction went nowhere.”
“You were 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 website 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 Becca’s after-school arts program that she 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 old home town, 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 14th?”
Elle refilled her wine glass. 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 your WiFi.”
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 and 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 regularly.
She shook her head to re-focus 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 webpage…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 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 wine glasses, then all three friends prepared to toast to 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 Date-a-thon. Where, even if you don’t find true love, you can still get a fine cup of coffee.”
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