Francesca at Transworld, Kara and Susan at Penguin Random House NYC, and all my wonderful publishers around the world.
Julia and Becky, Debbie, Jess and Sharon and the whole amazing Team Kinsella, with a special thank-you to Richard Ogle.
My tireless agents, Araminta, Marina, Kim, Nicki, and Sam and all at LAW and ILA.
My writerly friends for cocktails and wise counsel—especially Jojo, Lisa, Jenny, Kirsty, Linda, Joanna, Tom, and the Board.
The very helpful owners and staff of Harts of Stur—a fabulous family store!
My family—I owe you about eleventy billion.
And finally: the nameless American man who asked me to mind his laptop in a Starbucks one time, and instantly triggered my imagination…
I definitely owe you one.
By Sophie Kinsella
Confessions of a Shopaholic
Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Shopaholic Ties the Knot
Can You Keep a Secret?
Shopaholic & Sister
The Undomestic Goddess
Shopaholic & Baby
Remember Me?
Twenties Girl
Mini Shopaholic
I’ve Got Your Number
Wedding Night
Shopaholic to the Stars
Finding Audrey
Shopaholic to the Rescue
My Not So Perfect Life
Surprise Me
I Owe You One
About the Author
SOPHIE KINSELLA is the author of the bestselling Shopaholic series as well as the novels Can You Keep a Secret?, The Undomestic Goddess, Remember Me?, Twenties Girl, I’ve Got Your Number, Wedding Night, My Not So Perfect Life, and, most recently, Surprise Me. She lives in the UK.
Sophiekinsella.co.uk
Facebook.com/SophieKinsellaOfficial
Twitter: @KinsellaSophie
Instagram: @sophiekinsellawriter
Please turn the page for an excerpt of
Sophie Kinsella’s
Surprise Me,
which reviewers have called:
“Genuinely funny.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Heartfelt…a deeper story about trust, family and perception.”—Publishers Weekly
“Unexpected and wholly satisfying.”—USA Today
“A delightful take on the mixed blessings of marital longevity.”—People
Prologue
I have this secret little vocabulary for my husband. Words I’ve invented, just to describe him. I’ve never even told him about them: They just pop into my head now and then. Like…
Scrubcious: the adorable way he scrunches up his face when he’s confused, his eyebrows akimbo, his gaze imploring, as if to say: Explain! Dan doesn’t like to be confused. He likes everything straight. Clear. Out in the open.
Tentery: that taut, defensive way he behaves whenever the subject of my father comes up in conversation. (He thinks I don’t notice.)
Shoffed: when life has turned round and punched him in the face so hard, his breath is literally taken away for a moment.
Actually, that’s more of an all-purpose word. It can apply to anyone. It can apply to me. Right now, it does apply to me. Because guess what? I’m shoffed. My lungs have frozen. My cheeks are tingling. I feel like an actor in a daytime soap, and here’s why: 1. I’m prowling around Dan’s office, when 2. he’s out at work, oblivious to what I’m doing, and 3. I’ve opened a secret locked drawer in his desk, and 4. I can’t believe what I’ve found, what I’m holding, what I’m seeing.
My shoulders are rising and falling as I stare at it. My brain is shouting panicky messages at me, like: What? And: Does that mean…? And: Please. No. This is wrong. This has to be wrong.
And, almost worst of all: Was Tilda right all along? Did I bring this on myself?
I can feel rising tears, mixed with rising incredulity. And rising dread. I’m not sure yet which is winning. Actually, yes, I am. Incredulity is winning, and it’s joining forces with anger. “Really?” I feel like shouting. “Really, Dan?”
But I don’t. I just take some photos with my phone, because…just because. Might come in useful. Then I put what I found back, shut the drawer, lock it carefully, check it again (I always double-check locked doors, turned-off washing machines, that kind of thing), and back away, as though from the crime scene.
I thought I knew everything about my husband and he knew everything about me. I’ve seen him cry at Up. I’ve heard him shout, “I will vanquish you!” in his sleep. He’s seen me wash out my knickers on holiday (because hotel laundry costs are ridiculous), and he’s even hung them up for me on the towel rail.
We’ve always been that couple. Blended. Intertwined. We read each other’s thoughts. We finished each other’s sentences. I thought we couldn’t surprise each other anymore.
Well, that shows how much I knew.
One
Five Weeks Earlier
It begins on our tenth anniversary. Who would have thought?
Actually, there are two things going on here: 1. Who would have thought it would all kick off on such an auspicious day? And 2. Who would have thought we’d make ten years in the first place?
By ten years, I don’t mean ten years since our wedding. I mean ten years since we first met. It was at my mate Alison’s birthday party.