Chapter 1 : Part 1

Miss Match
by Leslie Carroll

For drama teacher Kathryn Lamb, being thirty-five and single means an endless run on the dating wheel. Everyone from her happily married sister to her meddling neighbor thinks it's time for Kitty to take drastic action to find herself a wonderful man. So she enrolls in New York's premier matchmaking service, which guarantees five potential mates or her money back. And if Walker Hart, the gorgeous entrepreneur of the company, is any example of the men who will be parading to her apartment, then Kitty will definitely be a satisfied customer.

But as each promising encounter turns into a disaster, Kitty realizes that the only guy who has captured her romantic heart is the one who doesn't believe in happily ever after. Sexy and sassy, Miss Match is a hilarious first novel that delves into the anxieties of the mating game, where every now and then one has to bend the rules. . . .

Chapter 1

"Turn front and face the camera, please, one-six-seven. And remove your hands from your hips."

Kathryn Lamb shook her mass of Titian-red curls. "No way. This is how the models do it. Makes them look like they weigh only ninety pounds instead of a hundred."

The disembodied voice spoke again. "Our clients won't be able to see you."

"Hey, pal, the camera adds ten pounds, you ought to know that. I'm giving you a slenderizing three-quarter profile. If I face front, your clients won't like what they see. Besides, I'm the one who's paying for this service. What happened to 'the customer is always right'?"

"I wouldn't want to date you," the voice grumbled under its breath.

"I heard that."

"Okay, Miss Lamb . . ."

"Ms., please."

"Whatever. You're the boss. Okay, Ms. Lamb, face the camera - well, three-quarters into it, and do your bit for humanity. You've got thirty seconds. Take a deep breath, relax, and when you're ready, nod your head, and I'll turn the camera on. When you see the red light, go for it."

"Is my lipstick okay?"

"Never better."

Kathryn inhaled, closed her hazel eyes for a second or two, exhaled, and gave the camera operator a firm nod, twisting her heart-shaped face toward him. "Hi, I'm Kathryn Lamb. I'm a high school drama teacher, and I love long walks on the beach, cozy fireside chats, and Welsh accents . . ." She doubled over in laughter.

"Houston, do we have a problem?"

"Sorry," Kathryn said, beginning to hiccup. "This is so corny. I've tried really hard to say something meaningful, but the bottom line is that I did this to get the nosy neighbor from hell to quit asking me prying questions about my social life . . . excuse me." She held her breath and tried to swallow, in order to chase the hiccups away, but the thought of trying to be serious and soulful while taking out a video personal ad sent her back into convulsions of hysteria. "The bottom line is that I don't want to meet any guys for whom money is a reason for living, and I value humor . . ." Another hiccup. "Obviously. And intelligence. And I think a life without music is a sorry one. And I don't want any guys with last names like 'Quartermaine,' or first names like 'Dirk.' "

"Okay, Ms. Lamb, we're done."

"What???"

"That's it. Your thirty seconds."

"Are you one taco shy of a combination plate?"

"I beg your pardon."

"No do-overs?"

"This isn't gym class, Ms. Lamb. Didn't you read the fine print on the Six in the City application?"

"Who reads fine print? And I don't call what I just got, 'personal satisfaction,' which - according to your service's motto - is guaranteed."

"You'll have to talk to the manager about that. Just step through that door when you're ready. I'll label the tape, and then you'll have your personal interview and be on your merry way."

Kathryn grabbed her tapestry bag and fished for her embroidered blue velvet makeup kit, a special promotion from one of the major cosmetic companies. But it made her feel like a Tsarina, so she carried it everywhere. She checked her face in the Lancôme compact mirror, deciding that she could have used more lipstick after all, and should have repowdered her nose.

Why did I let some looney tune stranger talk me into doing this, she wondered. I feel like such a moron. At least she was out only half of the five hundred bucks it took to become included on the roster of eligible females at the Six in the City dating service. Kathryn's younger sister Eleanor, a former bank manager turned mommy, had agreed to foot the balance of the bill. An early thirty-fifth birthday present.

Kathryn knocked on the beveled glass door.

"Come in."

She entered the room just in time to catch a Nerf basketball in her tapestry bag.

Copyright © 2002 by Leslie Carroll.

About the Author

Native New Yorker Leslie Carroll is a professional actress as well as a novelist. She has appeared on stage, in short films, daytime dramas, and commercials, and has done voiceovers and talking books. She is the author of Miss Match. Leslie also writes historical and New York noir detective fiction, and is the author of three stage adaptations of nineteenth century/early twentieth century English novels: Ivanhoe, The Prisoner of Zenda, and The Scarlet Pimpernel.