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Cassie Troiades is a freelance archivist, but her secret side gig as a popular advice columnist has made her cynical about love and despair for her own romantic future. When Manny Pelopson, who has other reasons to be wary of love, hires her to catalogue his family's old documents at the Tantalus Vineyard, they begin to find romance and mystery among the archives.
But Manny's family harbors some dark secrets, and they may be risking more than their hearts...
A new arc of workplace romance mysteries in the series where Greek mythology meets The Devil Wears Prada!
Dear Cassandra,
Ten years ago the love of my life left me for someone else. On our wedding day. It wasn’t actually at the altar, but six hours afterwards.
I truly don’t begrudge her happiness. But I just don’t know how to get over her. She was the kindest person I’ve ever met, and she really understood what it’s like to grow up in a family of strong personalities when you’re the conflict-avoidant one.
Recently, I’ve tried to get back out there and date other women and I think it’s important to be honest about what happened, so that potential partners know where I’m coming from. But every time I tell my dates about the One Who Left, they stop being interested.
Any advice?
Left Behind.
Dear Left Behind,
First, I hope you had (and maybe continue to get) professional help to manage your feelings about what sounds like a truly traumatic event. My entire insides curdled when I read that “the kindest person” you’ve ever met left you for someone else six hours after the wedding. There were dozens of much kinder ways for her to handle that situation, and she should have chosen one of them!
Second, and I say this with all the sympathy in the world, stop telling other women about her.
The One Who Left story is ten years old. It is off the bestseller charts, it is being removed from the library collections, it is no longer being accepted for trade at secondhand bookstores, and you do not need to bring it out for review on dates. (I am really hoping not first dates. No, right? Right?)
This column is firmly in favor of honesty, but that doesn’t have to be complete honesty. I don’t tell my dates I have a side-gig as an advice columnist. If I ever commit to someone, then I'll come clean, but until then, not every twenty-minute coffee or casual movie hang needs to come with a side of my life story.
Don’t tell your dates yours. See how that goes. And if you feel up to it, write back to tell us how it works out–I know that the readers are rooting for you just as much as I am.
Yours,
Cassandra
Genre: Romance
But Manny's family harbors some dark secrets, and they may be risking more than their hearts...
A new arc of workplace romance mysteries in the series where Greek mythology meets The Devil Wears Prada!
Dear Cassandra,
Ten years ago the love of my life left me for someone else. On our wedding day. It wasn’t actually at the altar, but six hours afterwards.
I truly don’t begrudge her happiness. But I just don’t know how to get over her. She was the kindest person I’ve ever met, and she really understood what it’s like to grow up in a family of strong personalities when you’re the conflict-avoidant one.
Recently, I’ve tried to get back out there and date other women and I think it’s important to be honest about what happened, so that potential partners know where I’m coming from. But every time I tell my dates about the One Who Left, they stop being interested.
Any advice?
Left Behind.
Dear Left Behind,
First, I hope you had (and maybe continue to get) professional help to manage your feelings about what sounds like a truly traumatic event. My entire insides curdled when I read that “the kindest person” you’ve ever met left you for someone else six hours after the wedding. There were dozens of much kinder ways for her to handle that situation, and she should have chosen one of them!
Second, and I say this with all the sympathy in the world, stop telling other women about her.
The One Who Left story is ten years old. It is off the bestseller charts, it is being removed from the library collections, it is no longer being accepted for trade at secondhand bookstores, and you do not need to bring it out for review on dates. (I am really hoping not first dates. No, right? Right?)
This column is firmly in favor of honesty, but that doesn’t have to be complete honesty. I don’t tell my dates I have a side-gig as an advice columnist. If I ever commit to someone, then I'll come clean, but until then, not every twenty-minute coffee or casual movie hang needs to come with a side of my life story.
Don’t tell your dates yours. See how that goes. And if you feel up to it, write back to tell us how it works out–I know that the readers are rooting for you just as much as I am.
Yours,
Cassandra
Genre: Romance
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