Jenny: Prologue
Jenny’s Message in a Bottle…
Dear Bottle Finder:
You have precisely forty-two minutes to complete your mission or life as you know it will end. If you happen to be color blind and can’t tell the red wire from the others, just crack open a beer or unwrap a candy bar and enjoy the next forty-one minutes before it’s all over.
Oh, wait.
Wrong mission.
Let’s try this again…
I’m on a Caribbean vacation with my girlfriends, and we’re tossing messages in bottles into the sea in hopes of finding true love. Please understand that alcohol was free flowing when we decided to do this. No, fruity rum drinks with paper umbrellas aren’t an excuse, but they were delicious! And who knows? Maybe dream heroes do exist, and ours are out there!
I’d love to say I’m a complete romantic, and that I believe in my heart of hearts whoever’s reading this is my soul mate, but I also think we’re one EMP away from an ELE. If those acronyms have you heading to Google to do a search, then you likely aren’t my other half.
If by some miracle, or alien intervention, you are reading this and think, hey, this could be the woman of my dreams, then your mission is to email me at the address below if you:
•Are single and male.
•Think something strange did happen in Roswell.
•Know your name will never be on the FBI’s Most-Wanted List.
•Aren’t allergic to cats or dogs.
•Prefer armchair traveling to jet-setting.
Or…if you’re certain I’m not the one for you, but want to let me know where you found the bottle and that you read this message, feel free to email me, too, so I can die of embarrassment.
Cheers,
JH
8675309@…