Page 74 of Don't Hex the Handyman
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“And you’re buying all the wine.”
“Obviously.”
“And if a single man from my romantic history shows up at my door in person, I’m moving in here and you’re dealing with it.”
The phone buzzed. One hundred and seventeen matches.
A new message appeared:
Greg, 51 (but looking suspiciously 25 in his photo): Hey beautiful. Remember me? Junior year. The parking lot behind the gym. ;)
Diane screamed.
Luna purred.
And somewhere in the cosmic machinery of love and magic and accidentally enchanted technology, something that had been dormant for a very long time began to wake up.
Diane Martinez was about to have averyinteresting few weeks.
