Dating by Design Series Box Set Read online

  Dating by Design Series

  Box Set

  JENNIFER PEEL

  Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer Peel

  All rights reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer Peel

  His Personal Relationship Manager

  Prelude

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Statistically Improbable

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Narcissistic Tendencies

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  His Personal Relationship Manager

  Dating by Design – Book One

  JENNIFER PEEL

  Prelude

  An algorithm is a procedure or formula for solving a problem. Binary means: composed of two pieces or two parts. A binary search algorithm finds the specified position of a specified input value. A binary search repeatedly halves the number of items to check until the answer is found. It is a conquer and search algorithm.

  Chapter One

  “So, let me get this straight. You’ve created a program that chooses the perfect mate for someone?”

  I smiled and refrained from sighing at the young male business reporter from Atlanta INtown. How many times had I been asked that question? I knew what I did for a living was, let’s say, a tad out of the ordinary. Okay … it was a lot out of the ordinary, but there was no denying its success. “The program is only part of the service we offer. That’s where we begin. Once we input each client’s personal data, it gives us an array of options, and from there we do more homework. For example, each one of our clients is required to go on one test date with a member of my staff before we ever set them up with another client. Purely platonic, of course.” I smiled slyly.

  Bradly, the skeptical reporter, smirked. “Yes, of course. So how is the program you designed different from something like an online dating service?”

  I stiffened in my very comfortable, yet highly stylish, leather office chair. “Besides the tailored and personal involvement, we pride ourselves on, it’s all in the algorithms.”

  “Care to share what those are, Ms. Marshall?”

  I smiled as if to say, what do you think? “That is strictly proprietary and well-guarded.”

  He almost sneered. “And how much do you charge for your services again?”

  “I would encourage people to call us, or better yet, come in for a free consultation.” I hated talking price. And the punk in front of me, who was barely out of junior college, would probably exaggerate it anyway. Or perhaps he would call it extortion money, like the last reporter I’d had in here. And really, did price matter? I had hundreds of happy clients, and not once had anyone ever asked for a refund.

  “One last question.” His faux smile seemed more like a sneer. “Don’t you feel like what you do takes the romance out of it, maybe even cheapens the experience?”

  I loved this question. I was well-versed in my answer. “Not at all. Most people’s problems center around relationships. What we are doing, through our tried and proven method, is giving them the best chance to find success in a romantic relationship and, dare I say, even love and marriage. In this day and age, we do research on everything from the best school to attend to the car we buy. Why not do the same for the most important decision of your life?”

  He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, like perhaps he believed me. At least for a moment. “Does that mean you do the same for your relationships?”

  “Time’s up.” I stood up and held out my hand to shake his.

  He eyed me carefully before standing up and holding out his hand. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Marshall.”

  “The pleasure was mine. Our receptionist, Meg, will validate your parking.” Without another word, I went back to work. I had more important things to do than talk to skeptical journalists. I’d had some new compatibility research come in and I wanted to include the data in my code before running the next batch of clients against it.

  My partner in crime, Zander, popped his head in. Or should I say, Alexzander? He was so proud of hi
s Greek name that meant “defender of mankind,” though he was neither Greek nor anywhere close to being foreign. He had grown up in the suburbs of Atlanta, like me, and looked like the all-American male. He even had a little bit of a Southern drawl.

  “Hey, darlin’, how was the interview?”

  I rolled my sable-colored eyes at him.

  “Same as always, huh?”

  “Well, at least this time he didn’t insult my intelligence by being surprised a woman developed the software we use, or call me a matchmaker.” I despised that word.

  “Yes, I noticed he had all of his limbs attached, and he wasn’t wailing.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not that bad.”

  He looked around our posh surroundings. “No, you’re that good.”

  “I knew we were best friends for a reason. Now if only we could share clothes.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see what you would look like in one of my button-down dress shirts.”

  “If I didn’t know you were kidding, I’d fire you.”

  He laughed. “Oh, you can’t fire me, honey. No one else would put up with you. That, and I’m good at what I do. And you know you love me.”

  He was right, I did love him in that brotherly sort of way. We had been friends for fifteen years—half our lives. Alexzander Grainger and I were lab partners in high school chemistry, but thankfully there hadn’t been any between us—chemistry that is. We did try kissing once when we were seniors, just to try it out. You know, to make sure we weren’t missing out on anything before we parted for higher education. And we weren’t. It was the most awkward kiss of all time. I mean, he was a good kisser, but it felt incestuous. We both decided to never mention it, until death do us part.

  I opened up the folder I needed on my computer. “So who are you ‘dating’ tonight?” He was the best of the best. He did a lot of the “platonic” dating of clients. He knew how to read women and weed through all the embellishments everyone puts in the surveys we ask them to fill out on their initial visit.

  “No one. I’m taking the night off, remember? My old college roommate, Jason, recently moved to town and we’re having dinner to catch up. You should join us. I think the only two people I’ve ever considered real friends should meet. Besides, you look good on my arm.”

  “I’m too tired to pretend I’m your girlfriend tonight. You’ll have to fight off all the ladies on your own.” And I knew there would be some. He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but he had a presence that drew people to him, women in particular. His amazing algae-colored eyes that invited people in, paired with his wavy chestnut hair always done in this messy-yet-stylish look, not to mention his buff bod, made him desirable. Again, it was why he was good at his job. That and he never planned to settle down, at least that’s what he always said. He had always claimed we would marry each other when we were too old to care about having a physical relationship, but he knew I was never walking down the aisle again.

  He brushed off his tailored suit coat like he was put off by my refusal to be his pseudo-date. “Fine, the next time a man asks if you’re available, I’m going to say yes and give him your personal cell number.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. He stood there smugly and dared me to call his bluff.

  I didn’t say anything to him.

  “You’re the best, Kenz. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casual.” He walked out the double glass doors of my personal office into the loft-style suite.

  I chucked my squeaky softball stress reliever at the door after him. I kept it on my desk especially for situations like this. He laughed when he heard the squeal of the ball when it made contact with the glass.

  “I love you, Kenz,” he called out.

  I needed to find some girlfriends, or maybe any friends besides him and my older brothers, Rick and Dylan. I let that thought quickly leave my head. I knew it wouldn’t end well.

  I gathered my things and walked through the office toward the exit. The only sound to be heard was the click-clack of my stiletto heels on the wood floor. I was always the first one in and the last to leave. My momma encouraged me to get a life, a real one outside of work, but work was easy. And I had a life, just not the one she hoped I’d have. Sure, she was proud of me and my accomplishments, but she wanted me to have what she had. You know, a man who adored the ground I walked on and children who considered me the center of their worlds. But for me, that was never going to happen. My life was about making sure other people got the life they wanted, whatever it was.

  For each client it was different. Some were looking for temporary companionship, or even a rebound—someone they could nurse a broken heart with, with no strings attached. Then there were the white-picket-fence people, and of course those who were looking for their perfect soulmate. And guess what? We could find someone for each scenario. We hadn’t failed yet. I turned to the wall of bliss for confirmation, and to revel in our success. Staring back at me were pictures of happy, smiling couples on their wedding day. The wall was becoming crowded. It gave me a sense of pride.

  I looked around one last time, set the alarm, turned off the lights, and locked the door. Until tomorrow, I thought as I admired the sign on our entrance door that read, “Binary Search” with our tagline “Dating by Design” right under it. I gave myself such props for the company name. I thought it was quite clever to use a computer term to describe the kind of services we offered. It fit so perfectly. Some people didn’t get it, but it was so unique, as was what we did, that no one ever forgot it once they heard it.

  I waved goodbye to Ellen, the owner of the building and event planning company that occupied the lower half of the building. We leased the top half from her. It was a perfect setup. We had struck a deal that anyone who got engaged using our services would get ten percent off if they used Ellen’s wedding planning services. In return for the referrals, we got cheaper rent.

  She paused to talk to me on the way to her car. “I’m off to meet with Wayne and Julie.”

  They were our most recent success story. I was pretty sure they were planning a fall wedding.

  “Please tell them hello for me.”

  “I do hope you’ll come to the wedding this time.”

  I smiled without answering, as I always did when asked that question. I didn’t do weddings. I was happy to send a gift, wish them well, add them to my wall, but I never, ever accepted invitations to the actual ceremony. I could barely attend church with my momma without breaking out in hives. Too often weddings and churches go together. Don’t get me wrong, I was no heathen, I’ve always been a properly bred Southern woman. I just have a severe allergy to anything remotely related to wedding ceremonies. “Have a nice evening.” I waved at her.

  She gave me a knowing grin and wished me the same.

  Maybe if I were more social, Ellen and I could have been friends. Again, I let that thought slip right out of my head. I was settled with my life. I didn’t need or crave any more than I already had.

  Chapter Two

  Kenz, I hope you’re ready. I’ll be there in five minutes, Zander texted.

  If that butthead thought he was getting out of coming to my door to get me, he had another thing coming.

  I guess you’ll find out when you come to the door.

  He didn’t text back, which was good, because he was probably driving that over-priced sports car of his that was bright yellow with a black stripe. Not only was it ostentatious, it was extremely uncomfortable. Try climbing in with a skirt. Can we say, wardrobe malfunction? Good thing I was a huge fan of undies and skirts that cover more than what’s considered necessary. Thankfully, that night I could wear jeans. I slipped into my favorite boyfriend-style jeans; they were the only boyfriends I would ever have outside of books and television. I paired them with a very chic, black tie-up shirt and ballet flats.

  Exactly five minutes later, Zander walked right in. He had a key to my condo and never bothered knocking.

  “I could be indecent, you know.”

 
He grinned seductively. “Don’t tease me like that.”

  I ignored him and grabbed my bag.

  “You look good, Kenz.”

  “Thanks, Zander.” I loved it when he was sincere. It was a rarity, but I looked forward to those rare occurrences. I looked him over. “You look good, too.” He was wearing jeans and a Braves t-shirt that showed he worked out.

  He flexed his muscles like a doofus, as if I would be impressed.

  “Let’s go meet this person you claim knows you and still likes you, macho man.”

  He laughed and pulled me to him for a bear hug. It was the only male affection I got, or welcomed, unless you count my brothers.

  “Are you wearing a black bra? I love those.”

  I smacked the back of his head. “Why are we still friends?”

  “Because, darlin’, your life would be completely mundane without me.”

  Unfortunately, that was true, but I didn’t agree with him out loud.

  Like a Southern gentleman, or at least a really good knock-off of one, he helped me into his chick magnet and we were on our way.

  “So, remind me about your friend?”

  “Jason was one of my roommates the last couple of years in college. He was the older, wiser one who kept us in line and picked us up when we were falling down drunk.”

  “Nice.” I think it was a good thing we didn’t go to college together. I remembered being disappointed when he told me he was choosing the University of Texas at Austin over the University of Georgia, the school I graduated from, but I always wondered if our friendship would have survived. If you thought he was an idiot now, it was nothing compared to his college days. I’m still surprised he graduated. Not because he’s not smart, he is. You wouldn’t know it if you didn’t know him well, but he has an amazing mind for math. He would have been an incredible teacher, but I pay better. “What brings him to Georgia?”

  “He’s designing homes for an upscale builder in Milton County.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Speaking of which, he doesn’t know exactly what I do for a living. You know it’s hard to put into words. Because if I was going to put it into words, you would be like my pimp.” He tried to scoot away from me as he was zooming down the interstate. He knew that comment was going to cost him.