Teaser for "Sunday Night Out"

Coming Soon!

"Are you single, Miss Leary?"

Wren lifts her eyes and stares at her boss. Ian McGrey in all his monochrome glory - seriously, even the glittery scarf around his neck is as grey as his surname - is giving her a twinkly, mirthful look. What? Wren works in the Classical English Literature Department of their library. She knows everything about "mirth in his eyes," as well as "raven ringlets" and "stormy brow." Which, by the way, all can be applied to Wren's - sadly - former paramour.

"Yes, sir, for the last thirty two days, three hours, and..." Wren checks her watch. "Twenty seven minutes."

Oops, that might have been TMI. OK, she clearly isn't over her tragic breakup with John Crispin Thorington a.k.a. Dr Sexy a.k.a. The Wanker That Shattered Wren's Heart into Pieces.

"Lovely, lovely, my dear." The old man chuckles, and Wren imagines stabbing herself with her letter opener. What's lovely about this in the name of Gallifrey, Wren would like to ask. "Then I have just the gentleman for you." Oh poop. "He's a son of an old friend of mine, and a fine chap. In actuality, there's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of us know, including himself." McGrey rubs his hands, and Wren has this iffy feeling in her stomach.

"Um, sir… I'm not quite… interested. I am not looking for anything, and to be honest..."

"My dearest, there is no better way to find the true love, except not looking for it."

Huh?

The man puts a card on her table. Bill Baggins. Tax preparer. Seriously? Wren is already bored.

"Um..." she starts, but McGrey is already leaving her titsy office, waving his hand in the air.

"Good morning, my dear." He closes the door behind him, and Wren drops her head on the table. Ugh.


Stay tuned ;)