An olive oil broker and a mermaid walk into a book . . .

It’s not like I intended to get naked at the rehearsal dinner for my brother’s wedding.
In the parking lot. With his best friend.
In my defense, he has a beard now. And I was soaking wet.

In our combined defense, we weren’t doing anything other than drying off. In further defense of my own actions, I was merely gazing at the pool, wishing I could go for a swim, when my brother’s lunatic best friend, Malcolm, ran up behind me and shoved me in. Hence, the need to dry off in the parking lot. The high beams that spotlighted us could hardly have been anticipated.

My brother has the perfect job, and he’s marrying the perfect woman. The wedding will also be perfect. As will the honeymoon and the immaculate offspring they will no doubt spawn to carry on the family tradition of normalcy.

I’m the misfit—a professional mermaid in a family full of traditionalists. And if I don’t get an audition with the pod of my dreams soon, I’ll have to rent out my tail to make my car note.

The last thing I have time for in my life right now is a man, especially Malcolm.

Okay, so he grew up and grew a beard. And being an olive oil broker might be a cool job. But he’s still that same obnoxious guy who was always hanging around our house, eating all my good snacks and making dumb jokes.

I mean, come on! The guy rides a skateboard to work!

How long can two misfits deny how well they fit together?