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The Matchmaker Chronicles, Book 2
Digital Re-release, October 2013
Original paperback, 2009 (St. Martin's Griffin Press)

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About the Book

The Matchmaker Chronicles continue…

When Andrea Sevalas’ long time boyfriend announces he’s seeing someone else, Andi’s thrown for a loop—well, actually, down a cellar.  Head throbbing and nose out of joint, she’s rescued by one of New York’s finest – attorney’s that is.  Ethan McCay --  the upper east side heir to the kingdom of Manhattan.  But Andi isn’t interested in princes.  At least not the uptown variety.  She’s a downtown girl with no time for Park Avenue royalty.

So what’s a fairy godmother supposed to do?   Well, if she’s Andi’s Aunt Althea (the infamous Manhattan matchmaker) a little manipulation is in order.   After all, even Cinderella needed a little prodding to go to the ball.  And with a little help from her friends, Althea’s plan goes charmingly – until the clock strikes midnight and the truth is revealed.

Certain that she’s been betrayed by the people she trusted the most, Andi runs for the safety of SoHo.  But matchmakers don’t give up that easily, and with Althea at the helm, Andi will discover that love comes in all kinds of packages.  And that sometimes all it takes to recognize the fact, is opening your heart to the possibility – that and a fairly substantial shove from your not so fairy godmother.


“Peppered with funny moments and occasional insight (especially regarding New York's food scene), Andi's story is as entertaining…as an episode of Gossip Girl or an issue of US Weekly.— Publishers Weekly

“Ms. Davis paints her brilliantly drawn characters with bold strokes, and her rich narrative and appreciation of Manhattan is a joy to behold.   SET UP IN SHOHO is smart, sexy and lots and lots of fun.” — Betty Cox, ReaderToReader.com


It's not like I was trying to hurt you." DIllon actually sounded apologetic. As if in saying the last bit, he'd somehow make everything all right.

"So, was it just the once?" It was a stupid question, but you try being erudite when your boyfriend is telling you he's been schtooping someone you loathe. The first tears trickled down my cheeks, even as I struggled for composure.

"No," He shook his head. "But it's more than just sex. At least I think it is."

Oh my God. Dillon hadn't just cheated on me. He'd gone and fallen for the woman. My gut clinched as I rejected the notion. This couldn't be happening. Not here. Not to me. I felt as if I'd blundered into some kind of alternate world. One where Bethany needed a matchmaker and Dillon had the hots for Diana Merreck. And lest you think I'm being judgmental, you have to understand that Diana's all Hermes and pearls, while Dillon is $300 vodka, and partying until dawn. Like old money and new money—they don't mix.

"So what?" I said, fighting to breathe normally, to keep some semblance of calm. "You're dumping me for Diana Merreck?" My heart had stopped beating all together now. Although I suppose that's impossible since clearly I was still standing there listening to Dillon destroy my life.

"No. I mean, yes. Oh God, Andi, I don't know." Again with the adorable confused look. Everything about him was so familiar. So much a part of me. And yet, it was as if I was listening to a total stranger. Someone I barely knew.

"Well you can't have it both ways." The words came out on a strangled whisper, and I quickly downed the rest of my champagne in a vain attempt to find my balance.

"Why not?" he asked, his hair flopping onto his forehead again. To my credit, I resisted the urge to yank it out of his head. "You've always talked about our having a modern relationship."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean three ways," I hissed through clinched teeth, anger finally showing its wonderfully reinvigorating head. "If you think you're going to have your cake and eat it, too, you're out of your mind."

"I see," he said, looking defiant and apologetic all at the same time.

"So that's it? Just like that it's over?" I half expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out and tell me I'd been punked. Dillon wasn't seeing Diana Merreck. It was all just a big joke. With me falling for it lock, stock and roasting pan.

"I don't want it to be. But I can't quit seeing her. I just can't."

So this wasn't a joke. Or some God awful dream. It was real. Dillon was seeing someone else. He was seeing Diana Merreck. I'd trusted him with my heart and he'd made a complete and utter fool of me.

It was over. Just like that. Right here. Right now. In the middle of a party in front of everyone we knew.

"Fine," I said, brushing angrily at my tears. I'd be damned if I'd let him be the one to cast the death blow. "Then let's just end it now."

Without giving him a chance to respond, I turned and walked away with as much dignity as I could muster considering the circumstances and the fact that I was wearing four inch heels. Okay, there was also the small matter of a little too much champagne. But hey, I was thankful for the insulation.

I swallowed my tears, smiled graciously at several well-wishers, ducked a conversation with a concerned looking Vanessa and even managed an air kiss for Kitty Wheeler. Which tells you right there how upset I was. Normally, I'd have avoided her like the plague. Besides being generally annoying, she's Diana Merreck's best friend.

Three minutes later and I was out on the sidewalk, hand extended for a cab. Except of course there wasn't one in sight. So I turned and started walking, reaction setting in, my body shaking as the tears began to fall in earnest. I still couldn't comprehend the enormity of what had happened. In less than two minutes my life had imploded. Everything I'd believed to be true proving false.

Tears dripped off the end of my nose and I swiped at them, trying to keep my pain to myself. Fortunately, it wasn't that difficult of a task. In Manhattan, no one really gives a damn. Which meant my break-down was going pretty much unnoticed. Except for a guy in a box on an abandoned stoop.

"Hey, lady," he called from his cardboard studio. "It can't be that bad."

I shook my head in answer, his words triggering the floodgates. Tears turned to sobs, and I closed my eyes, struggling for at least some semblance of composure. I could fall apart later. First, I had to get home.

I sucked in a breath, squared my shoulders and moved forward, my foot landing on—nothing.

Nothing at all.

And, with an inverted jackknife worthy of an Olympian diver, I fell, butt first, into the abyss.

Excerpt from SET-UP IN SOHO by Dee Davis, Copyright ©2009 by Dee Davis. All rights reserved. Reprint only with permission from author. Please contact .

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