Highland Hills

I used to believe in what we do at Mayberry Matchmakers, but now? Love is just another four-letter word. Too bad my grandmother hasn’t gotten the memo. When tech billionaire Rory Byrne approaches us, wanting to develop the matchmaking app my sister and I dreamed up (and Nana shot down), she jumps at the chance. My grandmother is nothing if not opportunistic. Of course, there’s a catch. She’ll only do it if Rory lets us matchmake him the old-fashioned way. He’s going to say no. Please God, let him say no. The last thing I want to do is matchmake an entitled rich jerk.

The only woman I need in my life is my eight-year-old daughter, Jane. As a widowed brewery owner, I don’t have the time or inclination for anything more serious than a one night stand. Running the brewery is a big job, and being a parent is a bigger one, especially since my in-laws keep trying to prove I’m an unfit guardian.

No man wants to be nicknamed Cupid. My family’s run a matchmaking business for years, though, and my sister’s a romance novelist. You get the picture. To make matters worse, my narcissistic grandmother just sold a reality dating show to network television. Thanks to her, our small town is about to become a hotbed of tourists and opportunists. Her show needs to be stopped, and I’m exactly the man to do it. Cupid, reporting for duty.