Page 1 of The One You Want

Chapter 1

Sitting on that bench in the middle of Town Square, I knew my life was going to change. I, Jenny Hillman, was about to get everything I had everwanted.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I had just finished reading a book about mantras and the power of positive thought, so I was trying to stay hopeful. Apparently if I said it in my head enough, the universe would manifest my desires forme.

Or something like that. I’m prettysure.

Okay, so I didn’t actually read the entire book, more like skimmed the first chapter, but still. I was sure I had the gist of itdown.

Be positive,I reminded myself.You can do this. You are the new and improved JennyHillman.

Well,somewhatnew and improved. In all honesty, my attempts to change my lifelong shy and awkward-as-all-hell personality hadn’t really worked out the way I wanted them to. But the important thing was that I was trying,right?

I attempted the whole positive thinking crap one more time, with a few adjustments for the sake of honesty.You can do this. You are the kind of new and almost certainly on your way to being improved JennyHillman.

God, I couldn’t even give myself a pep talkproperly.

The truth was, self-confidence had neverquitebeen my thing. I had spent the first twenty-eight years of my life feeling just a little bit out of step with mypeers.

Take my best friend Riley, for instance. That girl never met a challenge she couldn’t face. She was one of the best players on our island’s co-ed baseball team, outshining all the boys almost every time they played. She had a really cool, high-pressured job in TV news over on the mainland. And when she realized she was in love with her lifelong friend Andrew, she had the lady-balls to go afterhim.

Unlike some people. People who, for instance, had been crushing on the same totally out-of-her-league guy for months on end, without so much as a kiss on the cheek to show forit.

By some people, I meant me, if that wasn’t painfullyobvious.

In my defense, I didn’t have a whole lot of experience in dating. There had been a few guys in college, but nothing long term. And they had all approached me. Not because I was some great beautiful catch they just couldn’t live without. No, any guy I attracted was more than likely just interested in my family connections. Or our money. Orboth.

That’s the kind of thing that makes a girl doubt herself. When your dates are more likely to spend the whole night talking about your father or your grandparents than about you, it kind of messes with yourhead.

With that pathetic romantic history, it should come as no surprise that I had never asked a guy out in my life. So when I fell head over heels for Cal Miller, the island’s beloved veterinarian, I didn’t really have any idea what in the hell I was supposed to do aboutit.

Giving up fifteen hours of my life every week to volunteer at his animal shelter had definitely not been the answer. All that had gotten me was a burning desire to never clean out a litter boxagain.

Adopting three cats from said animal shelter also hadn’t done much to make him notice me. And now I got to clean out litter boxes at home,too.

Definitely not my brightestidea.

But even though my efforts hadn’t yielded any positive results thus far, I had been trying. I was determined that I wouldn’t remain the same hapless wallflower that I had always been. So what if confidence didn’t come naturally to me? That didn’t mean that I couldn’t learn,right?

So for the last several months I’d been on a personal quest to get control of my previously pathetic life. I signed up for online dating—not because I wanted to meet someone online, but because I figured I could use a little practice before attempting things with Mr. Perfect. The dates…hadn’t gone well. But we can learn from failure as much as success,right?

Then there was the makeover I’d attempted. Probably wasn’t a good idea to go for a new haircut at Sherry’s Hair Barn here on the island. I came out of that looking like an electrocuted poodle. The new wardrobe I’d tried hadn’t helped much either—who knew that it would be so difficult to walk in wedgeheels?

Hell, I’d even signed up for a dance class. But I couldn’t even let myselfthinkabout what a disaster that had turned out to be. Let’s just say there was bloodinvolved.

So, yeah. My life was still pretty pathetic. But all of that was changing today. Just as soon as I could move my scaredy-cat ass off this bench and go into the shelter to talk toCal.

Focus on what you can control,I reminded myself. I had read that in one of my many mostly-skimmed self-help books as well. What could I control in that moment? Well, my hair looked pretty decent. I’d spent an hour struggling with a hot curling iron, and for once, my stubbornly straight hair actually seemed like it might just stay wavy. I was wearing my favorite sundress, the blue one that made me feel slightly less immature than most of my wardrobe. My yellow ballet flats, though not as sexy as the scary wedge-heels, felt pretty andfeminine.

Plus, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t cause me to fall flat on my face, so,bonus.

And then there was the final touch. I’d stayed up late making a batch of Rose Powell’s famous cherry fudge cookies. Rose herself had taught me her top-secret recipe last year. And though they weren’t half as good as hers, they were still pretty damntasty.

A fact I knew for certain because I had stress eaten half a dozen before leaving mycondo.

Rose Powell’s cookies were legendary on this island. Who would turn thosedown?

But what if it seemed like I was trying too hard? Oh God. That’s what he would think, right? He would take one look at my outfit and my cherry fudge cookies and be able to see the desperation rolling off of me in waves. Maybe this whole thing had been a bigmistake.