J U S T M I G H T W O R K
Dane Marner’s aunt is obsessed with soul mates.
As a self-proclaimed ‘cosmically guided matchmaker,’ she’s played every card in the deck trying to set Dane up with the perfect match she’s found.
The problem? The ‘perfect’ match is Evangeline Hudson.
Dane and Evangeline rent rooms in Dane’s eccentric aunt’s house, but that’s where their similarities end. Dane is a drifter who freewheels from one odd job to the next, and Evangeline is an overachieving undergrad with a ten year plan so detailed it reads like an autobiography.
The two can’t even agree on a laundry schedule without feuding, but when Dane’s aunt reveals new tenants ready to take over the lease, they realize they’ll need to play some cards of their own to keep the beautiful old house they both love.
Their plan is simple: fake falling for each other long enough to get some soul mate sympathy—and a lease renewal.
A few lingering glances, some ‘accidental’ touches, maybe some well-timed tiptoeing into each other’s rooms late at night...
It’s a stretch, but it just might work.
Only said tiptoeing starts to heat the house up faster than they can stop it. As their plan begins peeling back the layers between them to reveal more similarities and way more feelings than either expected to find, Dane and Evangeline are forced to toe the line between real and fake—and decide which side they’re brave enough to stand on.
Just Might Work is a New Adult NBLW lesbian romantic comedy featuring a non-binary lead and a cis heroine faking their way into real love.
E X C E R P T
We’re about to head for the staff tent when the sound of someone calling my name makes me shuffle around to scan the rink.
“Dane!”
I hone in on the voice, and my eyes widen before quickly narrowing when I spot my roommate getting up from one of the benches arranged along the outside of the boards.
Jonah shuffles up beside me. “Is that Evangeline?”
I sigh. “The one and only.”
He elbows the side of my costume. “Can’t you just be nice? She’s really not that bad.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Jonah, she’s insufferable.”
We both watch as Evangeline trudges along the packed-down snow to get to us. Her ash blonde hair is tucked under a pink knitted hat with a pompom on top, and her scarf and gloves are a matching hue. Her oversized, thin-framed glasses glint in the sunlight, and when she gets close enough for us to carry a conversation, I see her pale cheeks and the bridge of her nose are stained pink from the cold too.
She’d be adorable if she weren’t such a tyrannical roommate. I have actual nightmares about all the ‘chore charts’ she has pinned to our kitchen walls. I’ve spent the two years we’ve been living together attempting to coexist in a state of mutual yet peaceful disdain, but I can barely go two days without her pounding on my door to tell me about whatever house rule I’ve apparently broken.
“Wow, Dane! It really is you. You’re...” Her gaze darts up and down the two of us, her eyebrows climbing a couple inches. “A cow?”
I bob my head. “So it would appear.”
She looks at Jonah and lifts her hand in a wave. “Hey, Jonah.”
He waves back. “What’s up, Evangeline?”
She shrugs, her thin shoulders rising under her pale green coat. “The usual. I was studying at McGill all day, and then my friend Chloe convinced me to get some fresh air here and check out the rink before calling it a day. She just left.”
“Oh, so you’re heading home now? We should all go together.” Jonah slings an arm around my inflated shoulders and gives me a jostle that forces me to dig my skate blades in extra hard to keep from tipping over. “I’m coming over for dinner. We can all take the metro together.”
Evangeline’s blue-green eyes slide over to me as she purses her lips. “That’s fine. I don’t want to intrude. I’ll see you later.”
She adjusts her hat and the straps of her floral backpack before giving us a final nod and turning to head to the nearest sidewalk.
I stare after her, watching the final rosy red streak of fading sunlight slant between two mirrored skyscrapers just as her path brings her in perfect alignment with the beam. The snow under her feet glows like hot coals, her shadow stretching out in stark contrast.
My hands ache for my camera, and before I can stop myself, I pull off my hoof gloves and arrange my thumbs and forefingers in a photo-shaped rectangle in front of my face.
I squeeze one of my eyes shut and frame Evangeline with my fingers, freezing the moment in my mind with a satisfying click.
“And you say you don’t like her,” Jonah drawls.
