Sparks Flew on the Lower East Side

Chapter 1: February Night

Morgan nearly cancelled the date three times.

The first time was when work stretched later than expected. The second was when rain began tapping against her apartment window, turning the February evening into exactly the kind of night that encouraged warm socks and staying home. The third was when she stood in front of her mirror, wondering why she had agreed to let Sarah MacLean arrange her romantic life.

Sarah was a romance novelist. She believed in meaningful glances, unexpected chemistry, and the possibility that two people could find each other at precisely the right moment.

Morgan was less certain.

Still, Sarah had been enthusiastic about Barry Lyga.

“You’ll like him,” she had promised.

“That sounds dangerously confident.”

“I write love stories for a living. Trust me.”

Morgan had laughed, but now, as she pulled on her coat, she could not decide whether Sarah’s profession made her especially qualified to arrange a date—or especially likely to expect too much from one.

A few minutes later, she stepped into the cold New York evening.