one publishing house from financial ruin at a time.”
“Please try not to make people cry anymore. It’s time for you to be your true self. You’re a Mr. Nice Guy.”
“I make no guarantees. But for me, this role at Sanderson is honestly a better fit. The best part is, it means I’ll be coming home to you on my couch every night. I couldn’t have gotten this decision more right if I tried.”
“Every night? Well, I can’t on the long weekend. I’m going to Sky Diamonds for the week. I don’t suppose you’re busy then.”
“Take me with you,” he says in between kisses on my shoulders. “I know the way. I’ve mapped the journey. Flights and hire cars. I’ll grovel to your dad. I know exactly what I’ll say.”
“I don’t get it with you and that place.”
“I need to go there so I can start at the beginning. So that I can know everything about you.”
“You sure do love strawberries.”
“I love you, Lucy Hutton. So much, you have no idea. Please be my best friend.”
I’m so ridiculously in love. I decide to try it out loud. “I’m in love with Joshua Templeman.”
His reply is a whisper in my ear. “Finally.”
I pull back. “I’m going to have to change my computer password.”
“Oh yeah? To what?”
“I-love-Josh.”
“4 eva,” he replies.
“You cracked my password?”
He rolls me onto my back and smiles down at me with eyes bright with mischief.
There’s nothing else I can do. When the white flag of his sheets settles on my skin, the Hating Game is over. It’s primal. It’s a miracle. And it’s forever.
“Yeah, all right. Forever. What game should we play now?” I look up at him and we play the Staring Game until his eyes spark in memory.
“The Or Something Game really intrigued me. Can you show me how it works?”
He tosses the blankets over us, blocking out the entire world. He’s laughing, my favorite sound in the world.
Then there’s nothing but silence. His mouth touches my skin.
Let the real games begin.
An Excerpt from The Comfort Zone
Loved the THE HATING GAME?
Don’t miss Sally Thorne’s
THE COMFORT ZONE
Coming Summer 2017
I got as far as the international baggage carousel before I began sinking back into the Carson-family-drama quicksand. My first mistake was turning off my phone from airplane mode. Actually, no, that’s not right. My first mistake was boarding in Heathrow.
I thought it would have taken some serious arm-twisting to get me onto a plane back home, but in the end all it took was my boss Margo’s words. Emma, the New York office is desperate. You’re still only on a temporary transfer to us in London, so I really do have to say yes to them. It’s only for a month.
Eversham Goldstein really needs you.
I was needed? A warm fluttering filled my rib cage and I said yes. I’m a literary agent, so words are my life—and kind, appreciative words are apparently my Achilles’ heel. I wish I’d asked for a day to think it over. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t be waiting here for my battered suitcase. It’s not that I hate this city. I just don’t feel ready to see some of its occupants.
My email inbox doesn’t have any big emergencies with my authors or their editors. I do have an email from Louise, my father’s assistant. The subject line reads: Urgent—Read Immediately. I have a bad feeling that this might mess with my One-Month Survival Plan: Arrive, work, participate in the required family interactions no matter how awkward, leave. Possibly for good this time.
I look up at a departure screen nearby and automatically scan for the word London. It’s arguably an unhelpful way to deal with this, so I make myself read whatever bomb Louise is about to drop on me. The first paragraph of her email is a heavy tapestry of caveats, precautions, and instructions to