Matchmaking Therapy: Jane Austen Vacation Club, #1

By Lisa H. Catmull

Grumpy meets sunshine in this sweet romantic comedy prequel.

 

Is revenge real estate a thing? I just spent millions of dollars on a hotel after my boyfriend dumped me.

 

My friends think I rebound too quickly...so, there's one tiny problem with leasing this resort—the owner. The tall, muscled owner with a tattoo peeking out of his shirt sleeve.

 

Rebounding with a hotel is one thing, but is this guy worth risking my heart?

 

Welcome to the Jane Austen Vacation Club! A behind-the-scenes glimpse at the people who run the Hartfield Regency Resort in Loveland, Colorado. Get to know how it all begins in this sweet romance novella. It's only one-hundred pages, so you can probably read it in two hours!

 

This prequel is an intro to Britni and Axel, but you don't get to their happily ever after yet.  The prequel is more of a not-so-cute meet cute as well as a "wait for more later, but check out their chemistry now!" It's a sweet romantic comedy with plenty of swooning and smolder, but no spice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa H. Catmull
• Release date: Oct 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223353416

Book preview

1

I still feel high with the exhilaration of my last performance. Not that kind of high, even though I go to college in Boulder, Colorado. The natural kind of zing I feel every time I step on stage as a different character.

Tonight, I’m Emma, singing my way through the Jane Austen musical, and my on-again, off-again boyfriend, Kirk, is in fine form as Mr. Knightley. We are definitely on tonight.

I change as quickly as I can, working to get my hair out of the blond wig with all of its Regency-era ringlets and back into my natural brown beach waves. I wiggle my way out of an uncomfortable corset and an Empire-waist dress and pull on a loose, ruffled blouse with some jeans. Finally. I can breathe and lift my arms above my head again.

I rush over to our favorite hangout to celebrate. It’s cold for a May evening, so I wrap my thin sweater around myself as I jog across campus. There’s a creek running through town, and I wind my way along a path that cuts over to the restaurant district. The Flat Irons are just a jagged silhouette this late at night, but I love the stark beauty of the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains.

The staff at the best Tex-Mex restaurant in Boulder always keeps a couple spots for us on closing night, and I am starving. I haven’t eaten since before I put on makeup and my costume hours ago, so I’m counting on them to come through for us again.

Sure enough, Kirk manages to snag us a few tables at the back with enough space for our cast and the parents who just arrived for graduation tomorrow. Pearl Street Mall is crowded tonight, and we are lucky to find any seats at all. The cast of our play includes twelve actors, so we push several tables together.

Some people, like Ashley, sing more than one role. Poor Ashley, getting stuck with the roles of Miss Bates and Mrs. Elton and Robert Martin’s sister. One role is almost invisible and the other two have to be the most annoying characters in the entire book of Emma, if not the entire world.

Not to be rude, but you know what they say about typecasting. Yeah, Ashley isn’t my favorite person in real life, either. My best friend, Emily, on the other hand? She plays the role of Jane Fairfax, and it couldn’t be more like real life. She’s practically perfect in every way. Tall, thin, blonde. Sings, dances, acts, has a billionaire daddy, and she’s nice. I don’t know why I like her, but we’re besties despite how perfect she is.

But everyone likes her, and there are no seats next to her, so I settle myself in the only open seat left—next to my boyfriend. I can’t tell if Kirk saved me a seat or if he is just manspreading across two spots on the bench.

Ashley squeezes herself next to him on the other side, right in the middle of the table, where she can control the conversation. No surprise. Our Theatre Department professor smiles at me sympathetically from the other end.

Before I can order some much-needed queso and fish tacos, Ashley is already leaning over Kirk to talk to me. Of all her roles, she’s perfectly cast as the old spinster Miss Bates. She never stops gossiping.

Where are your parents? Everyone else is here, and my mom is starving. Ashley doesn’t seem to notice that she is practically throwing herself at Kirk in the guise of talking to me. She also doesn’t mind pointing out that everyone else has their mother here, when she knows that I don’t.

And my boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind. Kirk isn’t worried about my feelings. Does he even remember that my mother died during my freshman year? No, he’s staring down Ashley’s low-cut, tight-fitting shirt, which is right in front of his face. In fact, is he leaning into her? I look around for a waiter. I need some queso before I hurt someone. My dad and brother are on their way.

I’m so glad. I can’t wait to tell everyone our big news when they get here.

Ashley always has big news. Maybe the snotty Mrs. Elton is actually her type.

Ashley’s ego could fill North and South America. It’s certainly squeezing me off the bench. Scoot over, I whisper to Kirk. I’m falling off.

He doesn’t hear me. He’s making weird faces at Ashley. It’s a cross between Chad in Descendants, when he’s afraid of Aubrey but trying to appease her because she’s a scary, all-powerful witch, and a bobblehead version of himself. His head’s shaking from side to side, subtly, like a toy on someone’s rickety old dashboard, while his eyes are trying not to pop out of his head.

Kirk! I nudge him to make more room on the bench. Am I his girlfriend or not?

He startles, as if he’s forgotten I’m there. What?

I point at my seat, where only one leg fits, and my entire behind balances on the remaining sliver of the seat.

Kirk shrugs and scoots closer to Ashley, who grins at me.

That’s not what I meant, I whisper. I don’t want you to crawl into Ashley’s lap. There’s not room for all of us.

The waiter arrives to take orders, and before I can order my fish taco fix, Kirk interrupts him. Hey. We’re going to have a couple more people. You can scare up one more table for us, right, even though it’s crowded?

The waiter glances around the crowded room and purses his lips. He probably remembers that Kirk never tips. Of course. No problem, man. But the look on his face indicates that it’s obviously a problem.

A moment later the head chef comes out of the kitchen. I stand, and he pulls me into a bear hug. Britni! My sister from another mother. I should have known it was your gang causing the trouble. We’ll figure something out for you. Fish tacos and queso?

I heave a huge sigh of relief. Thanks, Nick. You know me.

Always. I’ll make extra sopapillas for you. Emily, Sonja, Jai. He winks and waves to his other favorites, then disappears into the kitchen. He’s like a brother or uncle or father or something to most of us in the cast.

Kirk smiles at me as if he’s just solved world hunger. There you go, Britni. A whole table to yourself. You’ll have plenty of legroom and salsa.

Ashley giggles, and my exhilaration evaporates. My hunger races past starving to morph into full-blown hangry. Evidently, we are off again tonight, even though it’s graduation and closing night for the play, and Kirk is even making fun of me.

I’d like to see him wear that corset and perform that play on an empty stomach.

I cross my arms, glare at Kirk, and follow the waiter to the last empty table in the restaurant, off to the side and well away from everyone else.

The mouth-numbing salsa and salty tortilla chips are my only companions as I wait for my dad and my brother, Stephen, to wind their way through the other CU Boulder parents celebrating graduation with their children.

Baby! Dad’s voice has always been loud enough to embarrass me. Whatcha doin’ over here?

Let’s order, I say quietly. It’s either that or explode. I dip another chip in the salsa and look around for my favorite waiter. Can I get another basket of chips?

The waiter nods and slides two baskets of chips on the table for my brother and my dad. He’s getting the biggest tip ever tonight.

Dad sits down and dunks a chip in my salsa. What? Your good-for-nothing, deadbeat-boyfriend can’t even sit with us?

Something like that, I mutter. Did everyone in the restaurant hear