“I forgot to tell you where to buy BD’s souvenir,” he says. “So I figured I’d come show you.”

I drop my helmet, my keys, my purse. I run toward Noah and jump. He catches me in his arms. He holds me close. Our faces tip toward each other, our lips on the verge of what my body is screaming would become the most spectacular kiss of all time, including the Etruscan period.

“Is it us?” I whisper. “Chapter One?”

“That depends,” he says. “How much of it did you want to edit?”

“Small changes here and there.” I smile. “I think it might be more realistic if Dr. Collins slaps Edward after he tells her the truth.”

Slowly, playfully, Noah turns his cheek to me. I lay my hand gently on his skin. It’s warm and pleasantly rough where he hasn’t shaved since New York. He leans into my touch. He presses his lips against the center of my palm and I shiver with how much I want those lips on mine.

“The scene is who I want us to be,” he tells me. “The whole book is who I want us to be.”

I rise on my toes. I move my hands around the back of Noah’s neck. I press my lips to his. He meets me with tenderness, then with passion, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me closer. He tastes like cinnamon.

The seam between our bodies tightens, and it feels just like I fantasized it would—exhilarating, satiating, part-itch, part-scratch, brand new, and such a very long time coming.

“So,” I say, “how’d you like to go to your first launch party tonight, Noa Callaway?”

“I’ll go anywhere,” he says, and kisses me again. “So long as you go with me.”

Acknowledgments

With thanks to Tara Singh Carlson, who knew, among other things, that this book shouldn’t be about the CIA. To Sally Kim, for the insight into Noa Callaway. To Alexis Welby, Ashley Hewlett, and the terrific team at Putnam. To Laura Rennert, strong and elegant. To Morgan Kazan and Randi Teplow-Phipps, for the party on Forty-Ninth Street. To Erica Sussman, for tortoise intel. To Maya Kulick, for The List. To Shivani Naidoo, Courtney Tomljanovic, and Lexa Hillyer, for a million city rambles. To J Minter, original pseudonym. To Alix Reid, original boss. To the Author Mail crew. To inspiring breakups. To my family, love’s example. To Lhüwanda’s chin. To Jason, my kosher ham, who kept after me to write this one. To Matilda and Venice, for giving me the love I write toward.

By Any Other Name

Lauren Kate

A CONVERSATION WITH LAUREN KATE

DISCUSSION GUIDE

A Conversation with Lauren Kate

While you have written multiple books, By Any Other Name is your first romantic comedy. What inspired you to write this story?