LITMIR.BIZ

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though. Fingers at the ready, hope and anticipation doubling heart rates.

      “On your mark...”

      Five long utility tables had been pushed together into a rectangle on what was anything but a normal Wednesday evening in the St. Marks Church community room.

      “Get set...”

      Natalie stood her ground, shoulder to shoulder with the women around her, determined to do whatever was necessary to get the right card, the perfect card. The Hot Guys Trading Card that would change her life.

      “Go!”

      Shannon tossed the latest batch of cards into the center of the tables and sprinted out of the way.

      As if they were attacking the first Black Friday sale table at Barney’s, everyone went nuts.

      Natalie grabbed whatever cards she could reach, skimming the writing, ignoring the pictures, tossing lawyers and accountants and musicians away like so much litter. Baseball fans, football fans, hockey fans. Ah, a reader, but crap, not the kinds of books she liked. Again and again, the cards were stirred. She heard squeals, disappointed moans, clapping and apologies as people wrestled for the same cards.

      The word librarian made her heart skip a beat, and in the category of Marry, Date or One-Night Stand, his check mark next to Marry made her hands shake. Instead of listing a favorite restaurant, the card said he loved to cook and according to Tracy Jackson, the woman who’d submitted him, he was great at it. His passion was World of Warcraft, which wasn’t her thing but she could totally deal with that. And then, oh, God, the bottom line: looking for a kindred spirit, someone who could be the Lilypad to his Marshmallow!

      The reference to the sappy couple on How I Met Your Mother was the best gift ever. Not just because Natalie liked the show but because anyone who thought of himself in film or television terms was exactly the kind of man she was looking for. This was better than she’d hoped for. By a mile.

      Now, to turn the card over. To see what Max Zimm looked like.

      Her heart pounding after everything she’d read, she tried to calm down. After all, first impressions were as good as meaningless. Most everyone she found beautiful had started out as objectively nothing to write home about, but as she’d gotten to know them, they’d transformed. So even if Max had a handlebar mustache or googly eyes, she didn’t care. At all. It was the inside that mattered, not the packaging.

      After a deep breath, she turned the card over. And nearly fainted.

      The nerdy librarian was a stunner.

      “Who is that?”

      Natalie tore her gaze from the picture of Max Zimm to look at her friend Denise. She’d introduced Natalie to the Trading Cards, bless her. “He’s very good-looking, right?”

      “Very good-looking doesn’t quite cover it. Can I—”

      “No.”

      Denise sighed. “Okay. But why did you pick him?”

      Natalie turned the card over, hoping that she hadn’t had some kind of neurological episode. “Librarian,” she said. “Wants to get married. And he wants a Lilypad to go with his Marshall.”

      Her friend snatched the card out of Natalie’s hand. “No. He. Did. Not. This is someone’s idea of a joke. Oh, my God, who submitted him?” Denise continued to stare at Max Zimm’s picture as she shouted, “Is Tracy Jackson here?”

      Natalie gaped. Denise was the very picture of a demure librarian in her cardigan and cat-eye glasses, even though there was nothing else stereotypical about her. And now Natalie could add “bellows like a longshoreman” to the list of her friend’s abilities.

      No one responded, so Natalie turned her attention back where it belonged. “How could a librarian who looks like him live in Manhattan without us knowing about it?”

      “I don’t know.” Denise shook her head. “Although we haven’t met every one.”

      “But he’d be talked about. He’d go to conferences. We can’t be that many degrees of separation from any librarian in this state. It doesn’t make sense.”

      Denise lifted an arched eyebrow. “It does if he works for a think tank.”

      Natalie chewed on that for a moment. “Huh.”

      “He’s probably some amazing genius who works for a top-secret government agency.”

      “S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Natalie said. “He works for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

      “S.H.I.E.L.D. is fictitious,” Denise said. “He’s not one of the Avengers.”

      Plucking the card back from her drooling pal’s hand, Natalie shrugged. “Then a S.H.I.E.L.D.-like agency. It could happen.”

      “Nat, he’s already got the ability to stun with his looks. What else do you want?”

      “Okay, true. Maybe he’s new to the area. He could have been working anywhere. Europe, even.”

      “Who is that?” Iris Corcoran, a friend who was brand-new to Hot Guys Trading Cards, shouldered her way between Denise and Natalie. “And does he have a twin brother?”

      Natalie just smiled and gripped the card more tightly.

      “I thought you didn’t care about looks,” Iris said.

      “It’s not the front of the card that has me dazzled. It’s the back.”

      Denise snorted.

      “Fine, it’s the front, too, but I would have chosen him anyway, no matter what he looked like.”

      “It sure doesn’t hurt that he could be on the cover of Gorgeous Guy Monthly,” Iris quipped.

      “He may look like a movie star, but don’t let it go to your head. There are all kinds of guys here.” Denise held up the card she’d picked. The man was pleasant-looking, slightly balding, with a very nice smile. “He plays the clarinet for the American Symphony Orchestra.”

      “He’s cute,” Iris said. “Frankly, I’m just thrilled that every single guy on a card has been personally submitted by someone in the group.”

      “I know, right?” For Natalie, the trading cards were truly a godsend, especially for a woman like her, who wasn’t gorgeous, cared more about her work than her social life and tended to be a homebody. “Now that Oliver’s out of the picture—”

      “Oh, my God,” Iris said, wincing. “I meant to call when I heard you guys broke up.”

      Natalie waved the wince away. “I’m fine about it. Better than fine. I had a feeling he was going to propose and instead of being happy, I was dreading it. When it finally happened, he didn’t even bother with a ring. Said I should go pick one out myself. As long as it didn’t cost more than forty-two hundred dollars. Talk about a major wake-up call. I don’t know how I let it go on so long, really.” She smiled at the too-good-to-be-true card she’d picked. “Max may be stunning, but if he’s not the right man for me, I’ll put the card straight back in the pile.”

      Iris squeezed Natalie’s forearm. “Great attitude. One I intend to adopt as soon as I’m eligible. Don’t get me wrong, I like that members have to submit men they know before they can select cards, but I can’t wait! I already know three guys who want to be Hot Guys.”

      Denise leaned toward Natalie. “You decide to put that card back into the pot, I want to know about it first.”

      Just as she was going to respond, a woman she’d seen but not met leaned into their small huddle. “Someone asked about Tracy Jackson?”

      “You’re Tracy?” Denise asked.

      “No, but she’s a friend.”

      “She’s not a practical joker, is she?”

      “Tracy?” the woman asked

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