Known for titles like The Flatshare, The Switch, and The Road Trip, U.K. romcom talent Beth O’Leary is back with another smart title featuring women ending up in less-than-ideal predicaments. Instead of this romance novel progressing to a possible date, we begin with three women being stood up at a rather big one.
After being stood up by their dates on Valentine’s Day, three women with almost nothing in common realize the men to blame are actually all the same person.
Siobhan is a quick-tempered life coach with way too much on her plate. Miranda is a tree surgeon used to being treated as just one of the guys on the job. Jane is a soft-spoken volunteer for the local charity shop with zero sense of self-worth.
These three women are strangers who have only one thing in common: they’ve all been stood up on the same day, the very worst day to be stood up—Valentine’s Day. And, unbeknownst to them, they’ve all been stood up by the same man.
Once they’ve each forgiven him for standing them up, they are all in serious danger of falling in love with a man who may have not just one or two but three women on the go…
TMS Exclusive
Readers of The Mary Sue get this post-Valentine’s Day gift of reading an exclusive excerpt from O’Leary’s novel.
Miranda is halfway up an oak tree when the first call comes from Carter. She misses all ten of his calls, in fact, since her phone is stuffed at the bottom of her rucksack, for the very reason that if she has it in a pocket, she’ll be so keen to read any message from Carter she’ll probably end up checking it while hanging upside down in her harness.
She’s being resolutely sunny today. She had a very large bowl of porridge for breakfast, washed her hair, and decided there is plenty to be cheerful about. She might have been a bit short with AJ when he started asking questions about her “lunch date” (his air quotes, not hers), but frankly, that man would try the patience of a saint. And now she’s up in the air, and the wind is blowing through the branches around her, and it’s a good day. Every day is a good day, if you look hard enough.
Miranda is just starting on a back cut when Carter arrives at the bottom of her tree with a large bunch of flowers.
She catches sight of him between the branches below her and loses her breath for a moment. It’s just so unexpected; how can he possibly be here?
“Carter?” she shouts.
“Hi!” he yells up at her. “I’m so sorry! I’m here to apologize!” “You . . .” She stares down at the ground, and then comes to her senses and realizes she’s already cut halfway through the branch. “Get away from the tree, Carter!” she yells.
Where the hell are the others? She lifts her gaze and catches sight of Trey and Spikes at the chipper, and the small, incensed figure of Jamie, with AJ at his side and Rip at their feet, making his way toward the oak.
Oh, crap. She needs to get down there before they skin Carter alive for wandering on-site.
She’s rushing. She’s flustered. She didn’t get a lot of sleep.
This is why, as Miranda turns around to position herself so she can lower back to ground, she cuts through not just her main line, but her flip line, too.
She only knows she’s done it by the slightest touch of rope to her thigh. She’s balanced in a V between branches, so neither of her ropes are taking her weight; she might well not have noticed it happen. But as the remains of her flip line drop around her knees, she feels the slither across her trousers, lifts her eyes to the main line and clocks it.
Her chainsaw judders in her hand. She just . . . cut through her ropes. And now . . .
Now Miranda Rosso is fifty feet up an oak tree, and there is not a single thing holding her in place.
“Miranda?” Carter calls from beneath her. “Oh no,” Miranda says mildly.
Beneath her, Jamie and AJ are shouting, presumably at Carter. She checks how much rope she has left; nowhere near enough to get her down. This wasn’t an easy climb. There’s no way she can get back to the ground without ropes. She would almost certainly die.
She shifts her weight slightly. Balancing on this branch felt like nothing when her main line was anchored above her, but now it feels breathtakingly dangerous.
“Rosso! Stay still! That’s an order!” Jamie’s voice rings up through the leaves.
Miranda freezes.
“I’m sending AJ up!” Jamie says. “Do. Not. Move!”
Even now, in a situation that could really be described as near-death, Miranda finds room to think, Oh bloody hell, not AJ.
“Get your arse down on the branch to take the weight out of your legs!” Jamie says.
Well, okay, Miranda thinks. It’s nice to have a plan, even if it is “Get
your arse down.” She shifts little by little. One wrong move and she will fall through deadly solid branches, buffeted from rib-snapping blow to blow, until she lands like a rag doll in the debris at the bottom of the tree.
Time is stretching and pulling like an elastic band: it’s never felt slower, but once she’s maneuvered herself so she’s straddling the branch, it all seems to be done in a moment. She breathes out, her heart slamming.
She risks a glance down, and there’s AJ, throwing his main line to loop over a branch to her right. He’s already not far below her. In the distance she can see Carter, with his bunch of flowers, standing beside Jamie. Next to the stolid, grubby Jamie, Carter looks like a model man in his suit, his glasses winking in the light.
“You hurt?” AJ calls.
“No, I’m fine!” says Miranda. “Just feeling like a bit of an idiot, really.”
AJ says nothing to this, grunting with effort as he leaps across the fork in a branch and latches on with his thighs, already taking the slack out of his flip line. He’s almost level with her now, just one branch away.
“I’m going to get my flip line around the trunk. Don’t flinch.” Miranda looks insulted. “I won’t flinch.”
His flip line comes flying toward her, the carabiner inches from her head. She flinches. AJ acknowledges it with a twitch of a smile. He’s breathless from the climb, chest rising and falling hard, but he’s perfectly calm as he swings himself around to Miranda, and—so fast she doesn’t have time to panic—catches her waist with his arm. His harness is clipped to hers within seconds.
The danger hasn’t passed. They’re both hanging off the same rope; as soon as she shifts off this branch her whole body weight will be dragging AJ down. He’ll be unsteady in his harness, he’ll be navigating the way for two bodies instead of one and, most importantly, she is going to have to wrap her legs and arms around him, the very thought of which is already making her hot with embarrassment.
“You know what to do” is all he says, quirking an eyebrow. Miranda swallows. This is an emergency situation. An aerial rescue. There’s absolutely nothing sexual about wrapping her body around AJ’s, given that they are fifty feet in the air, wearing chainsaw trousers, and still quite likely to die.
Except . . . AJ is breathing hard, and looking at her in that steady, teasing way he has, and all the adrenaline has her buzzing. His arms are bare and muscled and covered in scratches; a long red cut intersects the tattoo of a bird in flight that sits just above his elbow. She’s so close she can see the pale resin-colored flecks in his brown eyes.
It feels a bit sexual.
“Okay,” Miranda says, a little more breathily than she would like. “I’m going to . . . grab on to you now.”
“Uh-huh,” AJ says, and she can hear the laughter in his voice. “Shut up,” she says, shifting her weight in his arms. He’s solid and strong and his arm holds her tight. “This is awkward, okay?”
“If you say so.” AJ tilts in his harness, lying back a little so she can climb onto his body.
Even through her fleece, Miranda can feel the heat of him against her chest as she wraps her arms around him and lets her harness take her weight, sliding down his frame. She turns her head so her cheek is flat against his chest. One of his arms is around her shoulders, the other easing out the rope so that they can begin their descent through the branches.
They don’t speak as they make their way down; AJ’s lips are pressed tightly together with the effort, and his chest rises and falls against Miranda’s cheek. When they finally reach the ground, they land hard, stumbling apart in their linked harnesses.
“Thank you,” Miranda says as they steady themselves. She swallows and looks up to meet his eyes. “Really. Thanks. You just . . . well, saved my life, probably.”
AJ smiles as he reaches between them to unclip their harnesses. “Will you let me take you out for a drink now?” he asks.
Miranda raises her eyebrows. “My boyfriend is right there, AJ.” “Mir!” Carter calls, on cue.
“Stay where you are,” AJ calls to Carter over Miranda’s shoulder. “Idiot,” he mutters, taking Miranda’s elbow and leading her away from the tree. Rip dashes over, dancing clumsily between their feet, sniffing at AJ’s shins.
Miranda frowns, shaking off his hold on her elbow. “I can walk on my own. And he’s not an idiot, he just doesn’t know where he’s allowed to stand.”
You can pre-order your own copy of The No-Show by Beth O’Leary. The No-Show releases April 12.
(image: Berkley Books and Alyssa Shotwell)
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