Out in ebook and paperback on August 25, 2026!
Asha Kapoor’s travel tours are high on fun and (allegedly) light on history. Her co-worker Callum Kelly’s tours are heavy on history and (most certainly) lacking in whimsy. Luckily, they both run their own tours and don’t have to worry about each other’s distinct styles.
Until their boss combines both tours into one grand European expedition. Suddenly, Asha and Callum have to find a way to lead the tour without ruining the experience for the guests, throwing the other off a castle turret, or making out in the front of the bus. That last task is made harder by the fact that while they don’t like each other, they can’t resist the romance of long days and nights gallivanting around Europe with an attractive co-guide.
But just as this grumpy scholar and sunshine art history lover start to find out their differences might be more appealing than originally thought, the tour is once again thrown into turmoil by their boss.
But they are professionals, and the tour must go on. Now if only they could figure out what will happen to their budding vacation-ship.
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Excerpt:
Chapter One
Asha
“The problem is, you’re boring,” Rob says.
I bury my head in the crook of my elbow so the other occupants of the room don’t hear my laugh. I hope it sounds like a cough, because laughing at someone else’s pain isn’t great, but it’s beyond me to stop now.
It’s just so satisfying to see Callum Kelly taken down a peg or two. The arrogant grump.
“Well, our tourists think your tours are boring.” The white man in front of me, Rob—pronounced Rab to my American ears because he’s proper Scottish—doesn’t let me rest on that victory for long. “And as for you, Asha, your tours focus too much on fun. Travelers complain they barely learned anything about the countries they were in. If they wanted to get pissed and have anonymous sex, they could have saved the scratch and stayed home. And some feel that you’re a bit of a pushover, and don’t do enough to stop them from making bad decisions. One time you skipped the Colosseum to go shopping?”
Well, that shuts me down fast. Even if that particular time, it was really hot and the majority wanted to experience Roman shopping. I made sure the bus dropped off the few people who wanted to see the Colosseum at the historic site. But I can’t make people go places. And I’m not dealing with heat-stricken tourists.
I hear a muffled laugh to my left and keep my gaze focused forward. Turnabout might be fair play, but I don’t have to see Callum smirking at me. I can imagine without looking, anyway. The man’s posture will be perfect, because only people of low moral quality would stoop to slouching. I slouch down more in protest.
His thick black hair will be wild, because of course the great Callum Kelly has no time to waste on superficial whimsy like brushing his hair, and his frigid blue eyes will be judgmental, like I decided to jump into a fjord in Norway, when in reality, I dared to enjoy something. He’ll have the slightest red on his nose, because he just got back from a tour in Greece in the beginning of summer and the Greek sun can defeat even the most responsible of sunscreen wearers, especially against his pale skin. His full lips, usually in a very serious neutral position, will twist into a smirk, because even though he hates fun, he seems to enjoy seeing me squirm.
And to make it worse for me, the judgmental package is topped with a chest so broad, I can’t stop imagining it filling out a fisherman’s sweater. It’s not my fault; it’s that lyrical Irish accent that sends my mind straight to fisherman’s sweaters.
“I do teach them. Good stuff, too. But I have the eighteen to thirty groups. They’re here for a holiday, not to prepare to sit for an A level in history. And it’s not like I want them to make bad decisions, but I’m not their mom. If they’re going to indulge in too much fun on the trip they paid for, that’s their business.” I’m quite proud of my casual use of English concepts such as A levels, a stretch since I grew up in Southern California, but my boss is less impressed.
Rob rolls his eyes. He’s slumped in his chair, rubbing the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin as he looks at us in exasperation. The man didn’t look happy when he called us into the office, and his expression has only gotten more dour since then. Not that it’s easy to tell, since he’s generally unhappy with…everything.
I don’t know why. He doesn’t have to drag fifteen to twenty-five very different personalities across Europe for weeks at a time, acting as teacher, mother, friend, counselor, and personal assistant all at once.
“Except they aren’t here to just have a laugh. It’s our job to show them the cultural and historic offerings of the places we take them,” Callum says.
“But it has to be a little fun! Or they could have sat themselves at home and watched a documentary for all that cultural enrichment. And it’s not all about drinking, sometimes they want to shop, or try some local food, or visit a beach, or—”
“Both of you are wrong. And both of you are right.” Our boss isn’t in the mood to let us debate this out. “You both get good reviews too, so you’re making some people happy. But you could both be doing better on the end-of-tour feedback forms.”
“That’s good, at least!” I do look at Callum now. “Some people like us.”
“And some don’t.” Callum glowers at me.
“The glass is very half empty over on your end of the room, isn’t it? Imagine how happy you would be if you focused on the good reviews.”
“Enough! You’re doing my head in. I can’t imagine what you’d do to the poor customers.” Rob rubs said head. “But that’s exactly what we’re doing anyway.”
“Pardon? What are we doing to the poor, innocent customers?” He can’t mean…
“You’re doing a joint tour. Honestly, business hasn’t been great and we haven’t had a full bus for a while. So we’re combining the two upcoming Grand Tours of Europe.”
I look at him in shock, as if he just told me that I have to conduct my next tour in a clown suit and entirely in French, a language I am about as fluent in as the average French toddler.
“I mean, I’m sure our tourists would love to have two tour guides…” I try to find the best in the situation.
“She does the eighteen to thirty group, mostly singles, and I do the family tour. How are those groups going to have fun together?”
Callum does not try to find the best in the situation. He’s going to suck all the joy from every room, bus, plane, train, and ferry we’re going to be in for the next month. I’m finding this to be a bit beyond my abilities to cope.
“I’d rather take a swim in the Thames, back in the days when they used it as a sewer,” Callum says, not even doing me the courtesy of looking at me when he delivers that blow.
I’m not so restrained. I look right at him when I say, “That’s just rude…to say out loud.” At least I had the decency to think my shock behind his back, in my own head. So we could start the tour tomorrow on a good foot.
“This isn’t a discussion. This is me, your boss, telling you, my employees, how it’s going to be. We need the cost-cutting measure, and you can learn from each other to become stronger tour guides. And you need to do your best, because the person who gets the most glowing reviews, who learns the most and makes the customers happiest, is going to get more tours going forward as we scale back operations.
“Your upcoming tours are the same dates, so we don’t need to worry about that. Everyone has agreed to the new tour. Now go away and do whatever you need to so you can show up with a smile, ready to welcome your eager passengers onto the bus tomorrow.”
He sounds like his mind is made up, especially since the customers have already been contacted. No use trying to negotiate out of this. “Right, boss. Will do.” I smile and salute him as we exit the cramped office, before he can make the tour even harder.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
Callum and I have two very different personalities, but maybe the tour will benefit from our different perspectives. And maybe I’ll learn something from this serious man. Not a complete personality change, but if people are complaining in the reviews, I can be better. And if I get better at the job I love because of this torture, then it’ll be worth it.
“Don’t think this tour is going to be as decadent and hedonistic as the last days of Rome,” Callum warns as we walk down the stairs and out the building, into the bustling Edinburgh street.
I take a second to soak in my love for my home of the last five years. The beautiful stone medieval buildings, gorgeous greenery, and the gray Scottish weather make me think I’m in a fairytale. And I love it. It’s the perfect mix of living in my art history textbook, while not being as large and as anonymous a city as London. It’s intimate and makes me to feel like I’m home in a way that no other city has since I left my hometown.
And I’ve seen a lot of cities in this job.
“But we do have to talk about the last days of Rome. And the first days. Since we’re going to Rome and all.” I smile innocently at him, knowing it will only piss him off more. For as long as I’ve known him, all five years we’ve been at the company doing tours, Callum has had the most contrary reaction to happiness. Which is to scowl at it.
I’m not disappointed now.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! We still don’t need to relive it.”
“If you insist.” I sigh deeply, so he knows what a sacrifice it is. “Do you want to grab some food and talk about how to combine these tours? We could go to the pub?”
He sighs even deeper back at me, his sigh sounding a lot more put-upon than mine. Must be all the extra practice he has. “Fine.”
“Great.”
“Grand.” His tone is less enthusiastic than the word would suggest.
Since it’s Edinburgh, we don’t have to walk far before we hit the closest pub. And since it’s Edinburgh, and being just after quitting time, everyone else in the city has the same idea. We have to squeeze our way through a sea of business casual to place our orders at the bar.
I order a pint and am not disappointed at the pointed look Callum slides its way. But he does refrain from saying anything about it. See, we’re already improving on our working relationship.
“All right, Co-Tour Guide. Ready to make some dream vacations happen?”
He grunts. Not an actual response, but a start, I suppose. After all, he could have said something mean.
“Okay. Let’s double check we’re going to the same places.”
“Good first step.” He brings up his tour on his tablet and hands it to me, and I do the same with mine.
Edinburgh, London, Paris, Strasbourg, Lauterbrennen, Milan, Venice, Florence and Rome. The same tour, but one offered for families and those wanting a quieter tour and the other for youngish singles and friends who want a little more excitement.
“One less thing to worry about,” I say as I hand him back his tablet. “Now we can divide up who gives the walking tours.”
“I’ll take those for you.”
“Wait a minute, I like doing those too. You can’t have all of them.”
“Oh, do you enjoy pointing out the best souvenir shops?”
“No. Not just that.” Although if we pass the best place for Scottish wool or gelato, I’m not going to not tell my group. “You know, I was an art history major in college. Sorry, at uni. I do like telling people about architecture and history. But we can still make it fun! History has enough juicy stories to rival the best scenes in Real Housewives. I mean, in historic popes alone, there’s fodder for the most salacious shows on HBO and Showtime. Like the five salacious shows they’ve already made about popes.”
“You were an art history major?”
“I’ll choose to ignore the disbelief there and just answer the question: yes. I love art and even history. And the occasional pint. There’s nothing wrong with liking all of those things.”
“What’s your favorite type of art then?”
“Oooh, gatekeeping at the pub. It’s one of the nicer places I’ve been gate…kept? What would the past tense of that be?”
“I don’t know.” Callum scowls with the words, and I don’t know if it’s because he hates not knowing something, or because he feels the conversation is beneath him. Or a fun combination of both.
“Who doesn’t know that?” I ask with my snootiest English accent. Then I laugh. “Look at me. Now I’m one keeping some gates.”
“No one has ever taken to gatekeeping with such…perkiness.”
“If you’re going to do something, might as well have fun doing it.” I smile at him even more, to see that scowl deepen, and I’m not disappointed. Unfortunately for him, that makes the smile wider. Which makes his scowl deeper, and…well. It’s a vicious cycle.
“Why are you so happy to be gatekept? Damn it, I mean in response to my gatekeeping. Feck, I mean your perceived gatekeeping.”
“Because I know I killed it at school. Fantastic insights, organized and concise essays with a hint of flair, brilliant recall for facts. And my favorite era of art is the Roman period, but especially that time right when the Roman Republic became the Roman Empire, and how that turmoil and transformation was represented in the art of that time. Like how in the Republic everything was focused on wisdom and experience, so people would emphasize wrinkles and hyper-realism in their sculpture busts, but in the Empire, it became more about propaganda that idealized and promoted a youthful figure that had divine authority and ruled by strength. Fascinating stuff, to see what gets called beautiful in different times.”
“Fine. We’ll alternate.”
He looks harassed by the gatekeeping conversation, so I’m sure he only gave in to change the subject rather than in the spirit of cooperation. But I’ll take it. “Sounds good. Plus, apparently, I need to work on making my tours more boring. Or sorry, more ‘filled with knowledge.’”
He ignores the dig. “But we should be at each other’s tours. To make sure the group is getting adequate information.”
I’ve lost count of the insults I’ve gotten during this meeting. But I’m determined not to let him spoil a job that I love. “And I’ll make sure that they’re having fun on your walking tours.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me, dismissing me with a quick flick of his forehead muscles. “Grand.”
This should be a fun tour.
Suleena Bibra 