Named Best Book of the Month by Amazon
An Ex for Christmas
Love Unexpectedly
by Lauren Layne
Releasing November 7th 2017
Loveswept
She’s making a list—and checking it
twice. But is there a nice guy among all her naughty exes? The New York Times
bestselling author of Blurred Lines returns with a charming
friends-to-lovers rom-com.Loveswept
The Book Junkie Reads . . . AN EX FOR CHRISTMAS (Love
Unexpectedly) . . . Great holiday read. LOVED watching Kelly go
back down memory lane but enjoyed Mark’s action much more. This was a
friends-to-lovers romance that gave a warm holiday feel all the way to your
toes. Kelly herself was sweet, unique, quirky, and more. She was the festive
glitter for the world around her. Mark was the one man she never considered to
be the one. He was her friends, dependable, sweet, stable, steady, honest. She
thought no further than their friendship. She missed what others saw. He was
hot, sexy, easy smile, and had eyes for her.
While
on her hunt for the ex that she thinks will be her future Mr. Right, she finds
that there are more things to the friendship she has with Mark. This holiday
season has more in store for Kelly and Mark both with a little bit of
superstition, quirk, patience, and the holiday season. This will be one that
neither Mark, nor Kelly will forget.
An Ex for Christmas will be one of those
holiday reads that you will want to come back an read over again with the each
new season or multiple times before the holiday season is over. I LOVED IT.
BLURB
When a psychic tells spunky, superstitious Kelly Byrne that she’s already met her true love, she becomes obsessed with the idea of tracking him down before Christmas. Kelly immediately writes up an “Ex List” and starts contacting old boyfriends to figure out which one is the one. When her college sweetheart rolls into town, Kelly convinces herself that they’re meant to be. The trouble is, sparks are flying with someone she’s never given a chance: her best friend, Mark.
Mark Blakely has watched the guys on Kelly’s list break her heart, and he’s not looking forward to watching them do it all over again. Mark’s always been there for her, but the timing’s never worked out for their relationship to be something more. Now, just as Mark is ready to move on, the sexual tension between them is suddenly off the charts. With Christmas morning around the corner, he just hopes Kelly will wake up and realize that everything she wants has been right in front of her all along.
When a psychic tells spunky, superstitious Kelly Byrne that she’s already met her true love, she becomes obsessed with the idea of tracking him down before Christmas. Kelly immediately writes up an “Ex List” and starts contacting old boyfriends to figure out which one is the one. When her college sweetheart rolls into town, Kelly convinces herself that they’re meant to be. The trouble is, sparks are flying with someone she’s never given a chance: her best friend, Mark.
Mark Blakely has watched the guys on Kelly’s list break her heart, and he’s not looking forward to watching them do it all over again. Mark’s always been there for her, but the timing’s never worked out for their relationship to be something more. Now, just as Mark is ready to move on, the sexual tension between them is suddenly off the charts. With Christmas morning around the corner, he just hopes Kelly will wake up and realize that everything she wants has been right in front of her all along.
Excerpt
As I walk, I check the weather app on
my phone, delighted to see that while it’s nothing but rain today, there’s a
chance of a snow shower tomorrow. Nothing says Christmas break like snow.
I just miss my train, but there’s a
decent-ish voice singing “White Christmas” nearby, and the platform’s not too
crowded, so waiting’s not as bad as it could be.
My eye catches on a middle-aged woman
who’s set up camp under one of the stairwells. It’s not unusual to see all
manner of people under the streets of New York, although this one’s better
dressed than most. She’s wearing a blousy red shirt, jeans, and ankle boots,
and is sitting cross-legged on a plaid blanket. She’s got twigs of what seem to
be fake roses in her hair.
None of that’s the weird part.
What’s weird is that she’s watching
me. Intently.
We make awkward eye contact, and I
give a quick smile before turning my attention back to my phone.
But I still feel her eyes on me.
Not in an unfriendly way, not in the
way that makes me mentally catalog whether or not I saw any cops on my way down
here who would hear me if I scream. She doesn’t seem eager to push me onto the
train tracks either, and since that’s every New Yorker’s secret fear, that’s
a plus.
Still, the focus is unsettling. I
glance up again, and her eyes lock on mine. Her dark gaze is clear and focused,
and I can’t decide if that’s more or less disturbing than if she seemed sort of
hazy.
Then she smiles right at me. “Kelly.”
I get immediate goosebumps for reasons that have nothing to do
with the winter weather. She knows my name.
“Come.” She beckons. “Come. I see.”
Now you’re thinking, Hell, no. Run!
I should be thinking the same, and on
some level, I am, but . . .
There are a couple dozen people
around. None are paying attention to me, but it’s not like I’m all alone in a
dark alley.
And look, we’ve already established
that I believe in fate expressing itself through a Magic 8 ball and horoscopes,
and though I haven’t mentioned it yet, I totally avoid black cats, the number
thirteen, and walking under ladders.
I also believe that there’s such a
thing as sight.
I know, because my grandma had it.
Grandma Shirley was one of those
delightfully batty old ladies that most people dismissed as quirky, but nobody
can deny that she seemed to know stuff. She knew when I’d win my soccer game,
and by how many points. She knew when her cat’s litter of kittens would be
born, down to the minute. Once she’d even predicted an earthquake, even though
they’re really rare in New York.
She’d passed away when I was in
eleventh grade (she’d predicted the when and how of that too), and though I
didn’t inherit her talents, I’ve never stopped believing that some people see
and know things that they shouldn’t. I call it the Sight.
I step closer, and the woman grins and
beckons me even nearer.
I stop a healthy few feet away. I’m
superstitious, not crazy.
The woman leans forward. “You seek
love.”
Huh. Color me unimpressed. I mean,
don’t most
humans seek love? Sure, I’m recently single, and I don’t particularly want to
be. And maybe I sometimes try a little too hard to find my forever guy.
But I’m not hearing anything other
than generic lucky guesses from this lady.
“Sure,” I say, already starting to
back away.
She holds up a hand. “The one you
seek? Your forever guy, the love of your life . . .”
I freeze,
because her phrasing echoes my thoughts almost exactly. A coincidence? Maybe. I
don’t move away just yet, willing to hear her out.
She smiles again. “You’ve already met
him.”
I blink. “What? I think you may want
to recheck that crystal ball. I’m single.”
Her smile merely grows. “I didn’t say
you weren’t single. I said you’d already met him. You just let him go. He’ll
come back to you before Christmas.”
Whoa whoa whoa. This is . . .
Huh.
“You’re telling me that the love of my
life is one of my exes?”
She extends both of her palms as
though to say,
There you have it!
I stifle a little surge of
disappointment. Clearly she hasn’t met
my exes. There are some decent ones in the mix, but mostly they’re duds, and
none of them make my heart beat faster. Well, maybe—
Nope. No. Do not go there.
Thankfully, I feel the rumble of an
oncoming train, and a glance over my shoulder tells me my ride outta here is
approaching.
“Thanks very much,” I say with a
strained smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Happy holidays,” she says with a nod,
standing and gathering up her blanket. Apparently
she’s taken a cue from Madison Meyers and is sticking close to the PC route.
Fair enough.
I lift a hand in a wave and move
toward the train, but her next words give me a fresh wave of new goosebumps.
“Tell your parents happy anniversary. Thirty’s going to be a
magical year for them.”
I whip my head around. “How did you—”
The woman is gone.
Like vanished
gone.
Leaving me to wonder . . .
If a woman I’d never met was right
about my parents’ anniversary, was she also right
about other stuff?
Have I already met my one true love?
Author Info
Lauren
Layne is the New York Times bestselling author of romantic comedies.
She lives in New York City with her husband.
A
former e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to
New York City in 2011 to pursue a full-time writing career. She signed with her
agent in 2012, and her first book was published in summer of 2013. Since then,
she's written over two dozen books, hitting the USA TODAY, New York
Times, iBooks, and Amazon bestseller lists.
($25.00 Starbucks eGift Card)
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