Mary Chris Escobar will be on tour July 6-August 3 with her novel Neverending Beginnings
This contemporary romance is Groundhog Day meets My Best Friend’s Wedding. Readers who like women’s fiction by Meg Cabot, Emily Giffin and Allison Winn Scotch will enjoy this romantic comedy.
Kate is alarmed to find out that her best friend Amy is getting married after dating for only six months. Her alarm turns to shock when she learns that the groom-to-be is Kate’s old college ex. As the big day approaches, Kate’s inability to hide her feelings is threatening to ruin her friendship with Amy.
Kate’s last minute, vodka-fueled wedding toast has her wishing she could turn back the clock and make things right. Imagine her surprise when she wakes up the next day and finds out she can.
Forced to relive one of the most painful weeks of her life, Kate slowly works to repair the damage she has done. In the process, she learns a lot about herself and the cynically charming best man, Ben.
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The screen on my phone lit up. I had silenced it before I went to bed. It was a text message from Ben. Did you get the squash yet? I smiled and clicked on the message to reply, then changed my mind and called instead.
“Hello,” he answered. There was a little gravel in his voice. It was nice.
“Just wanted you to know that there is a whole basket full of squash and salsa and spaghetti sauce in the trunk of my car.”
“You didn’t mention the salsa and spaghetti sauce the other night. I mean that’s a total game changer, I wouldn’t have even given you a hard time for blowing me off over that.” I could hear him smiling, which made tingles run the length of my spine.
“So what are you up to?” I asked.
“I was actually cutting out tiny people to glue onto this model I’m working on.”
“Like stick people?”
“No, tiny photographs of actual people.”
“Really. Where do you find something like that? Is it like clip art?”
He laughed. “Sort of. There are actually whole websites where you can download them for architectural purposes.”
“What are they wearing?”
“Um … are you trying to chat up my tiny model people? Because I think I might have to protest on their behalf. I mean they’ve never even met you. . Now if you’re asking me … ”
I hadn’t, of course, meant that at all, but I laughed. And tried desperately to fight back the onslaught of images and feelings the mere hint of intimacy with Ben seemed to produce. Perhaps calling him while I was lying in bed had been unwise.
“I, um … just wanted to make sure they were, you know, not going to embarrass themselves by being out of date … fashionably speaking. That’s all,” I tried to recover.
“Oh, I see. They certainly appreciate the concern.” He was still smiling.
“So, other than an update on the squash situation, and propositioning your tiny model people, any word from Jack?”
“I can call you tomorrow if I hear, though.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“So, are you having a good visit with your dad?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound so sure there.”
I tried to remember if he knew about my mom. I don’t think it had come up this round, but there was the dessert … except that was last round. The combination of tired and tingly all over was making details hard at the present moment, so I just asked, “Did I tell you my mom passed away last year?”
“No. Wow. So I guess it is sort of weird being back there, huh?”
“Have you been back a lot?”
“No. Not much at all, actually.”
“How … I mean was it sudden … if you don’t mind me asking?”
“No. Not sudden. Cancer. And actually thanks for asking, most people are scared to.”
He was quiet, probably not sure what to say. As usual with him, I kept talking. “So my dad is starting to go through things. Wants my help tomorrow. I’m really dreading it.”
“I guess so,” he said sympathetically.
“He’s right. It’s time, and intellectually I know that. It just sucks … you know, emotionally.”
We were quiet again, but it wasn’t awkward. Never awkward.
“I didn’t mean to unload all that on you … I barely know you …”
“No, no … thanks for telling me. Now we won’t have that awkward moment later when I ask about your family.”
“Right, awkward, sort of like how I just asked what your little people were wearing.”
“I’d file that more under adorable, actually. And for the record, seriously, if you ever want to ask what I’m wearing, that would be nice, too.”
“Duly noted.” I smiled.
“So I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything tomorrow. Otherwise, Tuesday night?”
“Good night,” he said.
I hung up relaxed and sleepy. As I drifted off, I thought for the tiniest of split seconds, that possibly a phone relationship with Ben might not be the worst thing in the world.
Award-winning author Mary Chris writes women’s fiction. She was destined to write romance from a young age (as a child, her stuffed animals always got their happily-ever-afters). She lives in Richmond, Virginia in a renovated parking garage with her husband. Find her on her website, on Twitter or just about anywhere good coffee or craft beer is served.
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