Bad Luck Club

Blogging about bad dates used to be fun, but a girl can only take so much foolishness. So I broke up with my job. Okay, full disclosure, I was fired. It’s a long, sordid tale, involving my sourdough starter - RIP, Fred! - and my ex-boss’ serious lack of humor. Newly funemployed and in need of a break, I go to Asheville to dogsit for my sister…and stumble onto a scoop big enough to put my fake-dating days behind me forever.

I’m usually the first person on my block to decorate for Christmas. This year? Humbug. My six-year-old son, Aidan, just had a meltdown after learning some hard truths from a drunk Santa impersonator, and I can no longer deny we both need help. Change is hard for Aidan, and right now he’s dealing with several big ones, including A) his father abandoning us, B) our move to Asheville, and C) the Santa snafu.

I’m cursed. Yes, really. I broke a boy’s heart, because he wasn’t romance hero material, and his nonna cursed me to live out my favorite plotlines...without the happy ending. Consider my track record: Second-chance romance? Turns out my old flame returned home to cook meth, not take care of his parents.

She’s a hopeless romantic...for everyone but herself. Can the least romantic man alive convince her love isn’t just for other people? Willow: There are certain expectations when you’re born into a multigenerational family of matchmakers, which is why I fled my hometown and tried to build a life of my own. But it turns out matchmaking is hard to quit, and I can’t stop trying to match the customers at the bakery I manage - including my boss and the tea shop owner next door - even though I’m hopeless at love.