Someone Else's Love Story: A Novel (P.S.)
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Someone Else's Love Story is beloved and highly acclaimed New York Times bestselling author Joshilyn Jackson's funny, charming, and poignant novel about science and miracles, secrets and truths, faith and forgiveness; about falling in love, and learning that things aren't always what they seem—or what we hope they will be.
Shandi Pierce is juggling finishing college, raising her delightful three-year-old genius son Nathan, aka Natty Bumppo, and keeping the peace between her eternally warring, long-divorced parents. She's got enough complications without getting caught in the middle of a stick-up and falling in love with William Ashe, who willingly steps between the robber and her son.
Shandi doesn't know that her blond god Thor has his own complications. When he looked down the barrel of that gun he believed it was destiny: It's been one year to the day since a tragic act of physics shattered his world. But William doesn't define destiny the way others do. A brilliant geneticist who believes in facts and numbers, destiny to him is about choice. Now, he and Shandi are about to meet their so-called destinies head on, making choices that will reveal unexpected truths about love, life, and the world they think they know.
blushed a deep, uncomfortable red. I felt my cheeks heating, too. “I kissed you?” Beth dropped her face down into her hands. She didn’t like to hear this part. “Yes,” he told me. “You did. You kissed me, and you said things to me. It was dark, and loud with music, and I was very drunk, so I don’t remember it all exactly. You hollered a lot of things into my ear. You were happy to see me. You kept saying, ‘Yay.’ It was your idea to go outside. I was drunk, but you were—I’m sorry—you
didn’t, she didn’t, and wow, you have it so bad, Bubba.” On Friday, Paula broke in again to place the cranberry-colored glass perfume atomizer. That, he hadn’t been able to make. He’d spent sixty dollars on it at an antiques store. He’d attached a tag with a piece of ribbon, and the tag read, This is not perfume. If it were perfume, it would be sprayed onto a love note. It smelled like perfume, though. Like orange blossom with green, herbal undertones to cut the sweet. This took longest,
in a mood much too heavy for the delicate curtains. “Not cool, Mims,” I said. “Not cool at all. You need to rein it in.” I had more to say, but as she turned to me, her mouth crumpled up and fat tears began falling out of her eyes. She lunged at me and hugged me. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” I patted at her, thoroughly disarmed, and said, “Momma . . .” My own name for her, now mostly replaced by Natty’s. “That was completely out of line, in front of Nathan. Completely.” She spoke
I’ve been in love with you for years now.” “No, you have not,” I said, a fringe of anger tickling across my skin, because this declaration felt like a betrayal. “What are you saying? That you’ve been all secretly pining, the whole time, like a trick?” It was too dishonest, and I couldn’t bear it if every disdainful thing I thought about Paula was true for Walcott, too. The idea that Walcott—my Walcott—had kept a secret of such magnitude! If he’d always had some nasty, sexed, romantical
waking up around him. The morning sky was turning blue and all the light had gone golden. Today’s heat was rising, and some cars were going by on the closest road. “William!” I said. He jerked and then his eyes met mine, and I knew he hadn’t heard me ask about the cab. He smiled, and it was like he caught all the morning sunlight and pulled it into himself. He was golden and so lovely. He leaned toward me, and I thought, Really? Here? Right now? But I was ready for it. More