Be honest. Do you believe happily-ever-after can be found online? I have colleagues who’ve met and married their matches through dating web sites, so I know it’s not impossible. And that’s how I came up with the premise for Heavensent.com, one of three stories in The Holiday Brides anthology:

Brenna is one of those superwomen in the office. She dresses straight from Elle, possesses the power and attitude of Scandal’s Olivia Pope, is financially secure, emotionally stable and poised to take over the world. But beneath it all, she’s aching for a man to call her own.

Meanwhile, her co-worker Evan is the farthest thing from her mind ““ romantically. He’s not her type. At all. But if she got to know him, she’d discover that he’s sick and tired to dating the wrong women.

Of course, they both end up looking for love on the Heavensent.com dating site. Since they’re so stubborn, their search requires a bit of divine intervention…that comes with its own unexpected gift.

Here’s an excerpt:

Sorority sisters made great surrogate families ““ until they all wanted to play the mother. Holidays especially seemed to inspire gushing bouts of maternal instinct among Brenna’s peers and most of it revolved around her Quest for a Man.

Did it matter that she’d maintained her weight, gotten promoted at work, or had money in the bank (unlike the shop-happy contingent)? Not much.

“A little more meat on your bones and maybe you could get somebody’s attention.”

“Come out of that office once in a while and you could get somebody’s attention.”

“Hit a couple of these sales with us and you could find clothes that look like you want to get somebody’s attention.”

The well-meaning critiques sounded so similar that the women’s voices blended to monotone inside Brenna’s skull. Right now, they hit her head and her heart in time to a driving beat thudding from one “mother’s” living room stereo. They were all seated in the kitchen, gathered around the table finishing up Christmas dinner preparations.

In the absence of male affection, sister love was cool. It kept craziness at bay that would surely develop after too much tell-all reality TV. It prevented occasions for gathering from becoming I’m-all-alone-eating-ice-cream pity fests. And today its collective spirit distracted Brenna from tallying all the more moments she hadn’t heard from Evan.

The room fell quiet as a slow song entered the musical mix. The women sprinkled cinnamon, buttered rolls, passed out plates in silence broken only by occasional humming or the clattering of forks.

“Don’t you all get dry on me,” the hostess admonished her guests.

“Where’s that wine?” the stuffing-spooner asked. “Bet Brenna needs a glass.”

“Just one,” she replied, knowing a single round would calm her nerves, but two would put her to sleep.

“Who is it this time?” The sister stirring gravy asked what they all assumed.

“Nobody.” Brenna hoped her answer would catch them off guard and convince them to leave her alone.

“Quit lying.”

Brenna huffed and spilled the truth. “I lost my job Tuesday.”

Her Mother Hen hostess abandoned the ham she was carving and scurried to Brenna’s side. “Girl, how come you didn’t tell anybody?”

“Shocked. Embarrassed. Pissed the heck off.” Brenna laughed. “What am I going to do without a job to wake up for?”

One by one, the other sorority sisters came to comfort Brenna, surrounding her in a circle of sympathy and hugs, offering ideas ““ serious and not ““ for ways to spend her time.

“Sleep in.”

“Shop.”

“Try relaxing for a change.”

“What’s that?” Brenna pretended to tremble uncontrollably. “Must have work.”

“Get a life.” Her sorority sister mocked her motions, hurting Brenna with her words.

I used to say that to Evan all the time. Wonder if I offended him, too.

Not wanting to be caught brooding, she quipped with a smile, “You’re right. I can do much better than hanging out with the likes of you all.”

Laughter exploded throughout the spacious kitchen, bouncing from face to face, ricocheting off the copper pots and pans strung from a ceiling rack, until the joy settled around Brenna’s spirit with soft giggles and shaking heads. It elicited her gratitude for good friends and lured her girlfriend’s husband out of his upstairs confinement.

“Oh, goodness!” He rolled his eyes and circled the table with his eyes. “You all are drinking before dinner? We’re never gonna eat, are we? I might as well go get a burger before I starve.”

Joining in the fading laughter with a gentle snicker of his own, he stretched his neck around the table tops and counters, examining the imminent feast. “You all did good! Let me get a little piece of that ham.”

He followed his wife to the kitchen’s center island. She carved him a thin slice, stood on her tiptoes and placed the ham on his tongue as if it were a gourmet delicacy.

“Um,” he murmured, licking his lips and winking an eye.

Um. Brenna remembered having the same reaction to Evan when he kissed her. Um. She fanned a hand in front of her face as if waving away the heat. “Hey, you two. Put your fast behinds on pause for another four or five hours. We don’t want to see all that.”

“Hater,” he teased, patting his wife on the bottom and backing out of the kitchen.

“Ten minutes,” she told him. “Tell your boy, too. I know he’s coming.”

She turned her head from her husband to Brenna. “Got you a little company.”

The doorbell rang like it was cued. To Brenna’s shock, dismay, and hidden relief, Evan stepped through the back door wowing the women with his charm and cologne.

She felt both perturbed and possessive; wishing she could punish him with silence for ignoring her all week, yet wanting to claim him as her own to keep her single sorority sisters off him. He slipped off his leather jacket and handed it to “his boy,” revealing a pair of relaxed fit designer jeans ““ loose in the thigh, tighter in the butt ““ a dark plaid button front shirt open at the neck, and those doggone Timberland boots, this pair in black.

Bet he tastes better than the food, thought Brenna, biting back a grin.

“You look familiar. Do I know you?

Brenna shook her head. “I have one of those faces, the kind that makes you think you know somebody, but you don’t.”

“My mistake.” Evan stared into her eyes, speaking words no one in the room could hear but her.

“Happens,” Brenna answered with a shrug. “You’re forgiven.”

The hostess eyed them suspiciously. “What’s going on here? Did you all go to prom together? Date in college? Or did you meet in a bar and have a one night stand? It’s something like that, isn’t it?” she joked. “Well. It’s time to wipe the slate and get to the table before the food gets cold. Let’s eat. You can pretend like you don’t know each other later.”

***

To watch the Heavensent.com book trailer, read the great reviews or learn more about my other works, visit my web site at www.stefanieworth.com. I’ll be giving away a copy of The Holiday Inn and Holiday Brides to two lucky readers today. Just leave a comment for your chance to win.

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