First You Kiss 100 Men.... Carolyn Greene

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      Prologue

      Dear Ethel,

      I’m seeing a man who’s smart, funny and kind. How can I tell for certain if this is the right man for me?

      Curious Carrie

      Dear Carrie,

      Unless some negative traits indicate he’s not a good match, keep dating him. When the time is right, you won’t need to ask anyone else’s advice, you’ll just know.

      Ethel

      ‘‘You’re making a wise move to fire Ethel and update this column,’’ Julie said, hoping to win the editor’s approval by validating his decision. A little sucking up during a job interview never hurt anyone. Especially when that someone’s college degree was in theater costuming and she was applying for a journalist position with Virginia’s prestigious Richmond Reporter newspaper. Hopefully, Mr. Upshaw wouldn’t hold it against her that she’d changed career paths after graduation. ‘‘For example, this lame answer she gave—‘you’ll just know’—doesn’t cut it. How can your Generation-X readers trust advice like that? They want answers that are black-and-white.’’ She squinted at the small, grainy photo of the elderly columnist. ‘‘How old is she, anyway? I’d guess at least ninety.’’

      The editor cracked his knuckles. ‘‘My aunt Ethel turned eighty-seven last month. And I’m not firing her. She’s retiring.’’

      Aunt Ethel? Julie swallowed. When would she learn to think before she opened her mouth? ‘‘I’m sorry, Mr. Upshaw. I have nothing against the advice of older people. In fact, my grandmother used to say stuff like ‘a girl should kiss a hundred men before she marries,’ so I got a journal and started keeping a list of all the guys I…’’

      The editor stared at her, saying nothing, so she impulsively filled the silence with the first thought that came to mind. ‘‘I could write about my grandmother’s advice to see if it holds true in this millennium.’’ She sat up straighter, excited about this fun new possibility. ‘‘It wouldn’t be an advice column in the traditional manner of questions and answers, but you did say you wanted something different.’’

      Her voice trailed off as she realized she was babbling from nervousness.

      He rubbed his chin. ‘‘A column about kissing. That’s different.’’

      ‘‘There’s lots of other advice I could research, too.’’

      He seemed not to have heard her. ‘‘How would you find a hundred men to kiss?’’

      Writing solely about kissing was a turn she hadn’t expected, but it sounded like an opportunity, and Julie wasn’t about to pass it up. ‘‘Oh, I have a part-time job that introduces me to lots of men.’’

      His eyebrows rose a notch.

      ‘‘Not that kind of job,’’ she added hastily.

      Now he scratched his bald head, as if weighing the possibility of hiring her. Julie crossed her fingers in her lap.

      ‘‘You suppose you’ve got enough material for a month of columns, three times a week?’’

      ‘‘Undoubtedly!’’ She wasn’t so certain, however, whether her limited supply of kissable men would hold out for a month.

      ‘‘I like your style,’’ the older man said, rising to his feet.

      Yes…! Julie followed him to the door, doing a little victory jig behind his back.

      ‘‘We’ll try you for a month, freelance and if you’re any good you can stay on as columnist and take on some reporting duties as well.’’ He blocked her exit with an arm across the open doorway. ‘‘But you’ll have to remain anonymous during the trial period. Keep in mind that the ability to handle confidentiality is a major requirement for a reporter.’’

      ‘‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.’’