They could make beautiful music together…

Alex was madly in love – with her married academic adviser. In an effort to shake it off, she takes the advice of her cousin Angela to spend the summer working in Potterville at the diner. Waiting tables will give her bank account a much needed boost and getting away from Dr. Wrong will hopefully give her the distance she needs to think straight.

Marc wants a quiet vacation. Life as a rock guitarist is beginning to wear on him. Women threw themselves at him and it was boring. He wasn’t planning on the cupids of Potterville interfering with his peace and quiet. Nor was he planning on them finding the perfect girl. And her baggage? How the hell could he have planned for that?

Excerpt:

Alex scanned the seating area. Plenty of diners were tuned in to the drama as they ate. If she went back to Angela and Finn’s, she wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen if Marc ever found out about her adulteress status, and she could focus all her energy on worrying about what Roger was going to do next. But that wasn’t much in the spirit of “The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock.”

Wait. “What did you say?”

“I want to finish this conversation away from the spotlight.”

“Before that.”

“I didn’t want to see you hurt. The way he had your arm, I thought he was going to twist it off.” Marc frowned, his eyes darting to the sides as if he could see the diners watching them through the back of his head.

“No, before that.”

He straightened and heaved a sigh. “Alex, please can we go someplace private?”

“I swear you said you loved me.”

“I did,” he said through his teeth.

“But you won’t say it again now, so how do I know you meant it?” If he loved her, that changed things. He might even be willing to forgive her tawdry past.

“You are killing me here, Alex.”

“Why can’t you just say it?”

Marc turned his head to meet the astonished gaze of the woman at the table next to them.

“Tell her,” the woman said.

“Oh, God,” Marc groaned. “This is going to be all over the Internet.”

“I’m recording it,” a woman at the table next to the drink station said. She had her phone in her hand. “I recorded it the first time, too.”

“Oh, good,” her dinner companion said. “I’m going to want to watch that over and over. This is history.”

These people were far too fascinated with what should be a personal moment. So he was a musician. His love life should have no impact on his ability to play guitar. On the other hand, if he said it now, in front of all these people, he must mean it, right? People, total strangers were recording it for posterity. Roger wouldn’t look her in the eye in class. He hadn’t wanted anyone to get an inkling of what was going on behind his closed office door. Some people in the English department believed he disliked her because of the way he acted toward her in public. If Marc went on the Internet on video saying that he loved her, then everyone would know.

Yeah, she was going to be one of those women who made their man prove he loved her.

“Alex, I love you.”

The seven tables closest to them broke into applause.

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