Page 2 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

“Then let him go. It’s time to find out the truth and accept and enjoy it or move on.

You’re both on different pages. And it’s perfectly normal for two people to grow apart.

There is no shame in it. What would be a shame is continuing to force something that no longer serves either of you. Call me and report back, yeah?”

“Okay. Thanks, Nessa.”

“Anytime, Margaret.” I dropped the call and hit one of the ten angry red buttons blinking on my console. A girl like me never got a break to collect her thoughts. I had to keep the callers happy and my time with Margaret had already run a little long.

I fell back into my ritual greeting to start the next call. “Hi there, caller. What’s your name, and how can I hope to heal your heart today?”

The clock said I had ten minutes to go on my shift and the night would be over. Or beginning. A romance novel, a glass of wine, and a hot bath were calling my name. It was the exact thing I needed after a day like today.

I wasn’t sure why, but I was even more aware of how unsettled I was about giving this advice.

For the first time in a long time, I’d begun to wonder if I was the right person for this.

What if my advice was leading people astray?

What if I was breaking up couples who were meant to be, simply because I didn’t know what it meant to be in love with someone?

“Woohoo! Nessa Night!”

I winced at the loud holler in my ear. It was a nasally masculine voice with a thick country accent. “Well, well. Sounds like you’re having a good night tonight, caller. What’s your name?”

“Darrel. I’m from Alabama, darlin’. We always have good nights.”

“I was born in Alabama. Good place to call home.” I smiled as Doug shook his head. He was a Tennessee boy through and through. Nowhere else would do.

“Heck yeah. Shoulda known you were a country girl, Nessa. Hey! When you gonna show us your pretty face? I’ve been listenin’ to you giving folks advice for years, and you sound real fine.”

I cleared my throat as heat rose up my chest. The man couldn’t be more mistaken.

I thanked my lucky stars for the anonymity of a microphone, as opposed to a camera.

“Thanks for the compliment, but my identity is hidden for a reason. Can you imagine how many suitors I’d have if they all knew that it was me giving out romantic advice night after night? ”

“I’m one of them, sweetness. How about I just come up to that radio station that you work for and we can get to know each other a little more intimately? I know how to treat a southern girl right, darlin’.”

Ew.

I caught Doug smirking at me. Classic Doug. He always found the douchebag callers the most amusing, even if it was at my expense. Sometimes, I found them entertaining too, but today was not the day.

“How flattering,” I lied. It was time to move this call along.

Mr. Small Town Asshole had wasted enough time.

“Now, let me know how I can help you tonight, Mr. Alabama.” The flyer sitting near the edge of my desk caught my attention.

My ten-year high-school reunion was in a few months, and I sure as hell wasn’t going.

Then why are you keeping the flyer? Chuck it.

“The name is Darrel, love dove.”

I chuckled, only half hearing him. My attention had been stolen by the glossy and colorful flyer underneath my still empty donut plate.

I tugged it free and glared at the bold yellow letters splattered across the top of the flyer, “10 Year Reunion.” I scowled at it, personally offended by the invitation to return to my old stomping grounds.

And by stomping grounds, I meant Hell. The event was only a couple of months away and there was one thing I knew for certain about it. I would not be there.

Chunky little Vanessa Hampton was not returning to her old school thicker than when she’d graduated and perpetually single. No. Fucking. Way.

“Where’d you learn all of these pet names, Darrel?” I drawled as I flipped the flyer upside down. “Did you make these up on your own? They’re pretty good.”

He snickered. “Yeah? I can call you all kinds of things if you like, baby.”

“Let’s focus on the reason you’re calling.”

“I’ve got this hot little number that I’m trying to sleep with.”

Of course. How utterly predictable. I licked my forefinger and dabbed it in the plate of donut crumbs before licking them off. The sugar immediately eased my irritation. “Sounds interesting. Keep going.”

“She’s super sexy. Got a real pretty voice. And she’s a radio DJ.”

The other room erupted in what looked like a great bout of laughter.

I glared at Doug and my assistant, Lizzy, who had just walked into the room.

She was doubled over, clutching her flat stomach that I’d envied since she was hired two years ago, wheezing with laughter.

Doug slapped his knee and rocked back in his chair as he threw his head back with roars of laughter.

I’d have to smack them when I got done with the show. Asshats.

“Is she single?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Truth be told, I don’t know much about her, but I know one thing.”

“And that is?”

“This woman is mine. She should be with me.”

“And what would your pick-up line be if you were able to get in front of her?” I forced myself to play along. The listeners were intelligent. They knew this guy was razzing me. No need to skip into the web he was clumsily laying.

“I’d look her in her dark blue eyes—”

“Brown.” I grabbed my drink, twisted the top, and drank deeply, wishing like hell it were whiskey. Family favorite. At least the carbonation was still pleasant.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I’d look her in her big brown eyes and say, ‘Baby, if I told you that you were hotter than four hells, could I take you home with me tonight?’”

I spit the drink all over the equipment and my screen as a laugh busted out of me.

“That’ll only work on the back of a Greyhound bus, Darrel, but thanks for your call, and good luck.

” I pressed the button to let Bubba go and leaned into my mic.

“I’d love to hear from you on Twitter. If that line would have won Darrel a night with you, tell me who hurt you.

Please. Because Good lord, that’d make for some good quality entertainment.

Now please, enjoy a word from our sponsors while I clean my Mountain Dew off my equipment. ”

After pressing another button to start the three-minute advertisement, I stood and reached for the paper towels. Lizzy came through the door in a hurry and worked to help me clean up everything with a wad of paper towels and a wet rag that smelled of citrus cleaner.

“Good grief. I have no idea how you do this gig.” Lizzy snorted and took the messy paper towels from my hands. She tucked a short strand of nearly black hair behind her ear and nodded at the timer on my screen. “I’d lose it talking to a bozo like that.”

“I love the idea of love.” I shrugged. My voice—my real voice—was deeper than Nessa Night’s, and a little less flirty. The accent was just for the show. It helped me stay Clark Kent while the world searched high and low for Superman.

Or Wonder Woman, as it were?

“More power to you, sister.” She nodded toward the caller board. “Doug said to try and squeeze in one more call. They have a normal-sounding guy on the line. Your usual dude.”

“Mr. No Name?” I smiled as butterflies danced in my stomach.

The guy had been calling since the beginning of my show.

His voice was deep and rich like German chocolate.

Something about it dragged me in deep. It played with me in my dreams and offered promises of pleasure.

The itch to get home to my book and a glass of wine was suddenly gone.

“That’s the one.” She winked and turned, walking back out of the studio. Doug gave me a thumbs-up, which I returned with a little less gusto.

Let’s do this thing.