Well Matched

proud of her. But that had absolutely nothing to do with Robert, who in the end had been little more than a sperm donor. What the hell was he thinking, getting in touch now and trying to do a victory lap as a father? Fuck that. And fuck him.



I stared at his name, wishing my eyes could burn a hole through this cheap card stock. I'd been April Daugherty once, for roughly one and a half of my forty years. And if we'd stayed married, my daughter would have been Caitlin Daugherty instead of Caitlin Parker. I thought, not for the first time, about those two hypothetical Daugherty women, and the life they might have had.



Would Caitlin Daugherty have had an easier time of things? Would April D and Caitlin D have worried a little less about affording college, applied for fewer scholarships and grants? I'd sat up a lot of nights with Caitlin P, our laptops side by side at the dining room table, filling out forms late into the night. At the time it had felt very feminist, very "us against the world," the way most of our lives together had been. But Caitlin Daugherty would have had a provider for a father. Maybe she would have had to fight a little less. Maybe-



"What're you drinking?"



Oh. I glanced up and to my right, squinting at the guy in a gray business suit who'd taken up residence on the barstool next to mine. He didn't look familiar, and Willow Creek, Maryland, was the kind of town where everyone at least looked familiar. He was probably on his way down to DC-he had that Beltway look about him. Salt-and-pepper hair with a nice expensive-looking cut, pale eyes, a decent smile. Of course, one strike against him was that he'd just hit on a strange woman at a bar.



I gave him a friendly-but-not-too-friendly smile. "I'm good, thank you." There. Pleasant enough, but not encouraging.



He didn't take the hint. "No, I mean it." He moved his stool a little closer to mine, not quite in my personal space but close enough. I slipped the card back into the envelope and sl

huzzah for Well Played."--Entertainment Weekly, on Well Played

"What a delight! This is enemies to lovers at its absolute finest, folks. DeLuca proves to be a master of creating characters you believe in and a storyline to keep you totally engrossed. Well Met is a hilarious, swoony, and captivating romance--hands down our new favorite feel-good novel of the year."--New York Times bestselling author Christina Lauren, on Well Met

"Well Met will especially appeal to readers who like bookstores, Renaissance fair shenanigans and nerdy English teachers wearing vests. DeLuca will have readers laughing all the way to the turkey leg vendor."--Shelf Awareness, on Well Met

"Full of wit, hilarious banter, and swoon-worthy moments."--Woman's World, on Well Met

"Jen Deluca's Well Met is a way cute small-town romance."--NPR, on Well Met

"Jen DeLuca had me laughing out loud from the opening line. Well Met is fresh, fun, and the story I never knew I needed. I so wish I could grab a corset and live the wench life with Emily!"--Alexa Martin, author of Fumbled, on Well Met

"The descriptions of him in his pirate gear...are likely to induce a thirst so wide and so deep you could sail a ship across it."--Entertainment Weekly, on Well Met