But first why not read the blurb?
Herbie longed for an ideal world where everything was orderly and predictable. But then he met Anna.
Wow!
Now check out the excerpt.
It could have worked out if she’d been more specific, hadn’t waffled about when he pressed for a commitment. Herbie needed commitment. He needed boundaries, time lines. He couldn’t work with “we’ll see,” or, worse yet, “maybe.” What the hell did that mean anyway? What if an umpire said “maybe that was strike three,” or “maybe you’re out”? Maybe was the worst word in the language. Maybe was chaos. Maybe was verbal anarchy. Every time she said the word he ground a little more enamel off his molars. A romance was either on or off, just like an appliance. There was no maybe about it. So he had to cut her loose. He sent her an e-mail.
And it wasn’t just her. The whole country was in on it. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe your flight would arrive on time. Maybe you’d get that delivery today, maybe tomorrow, maybe never. Standards, that’s what the world needed, standards and consequences. But, enough of that, now he needed a replacement woman.
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