ISBN 9781984804044 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781984804051 (ebook)

Subjects: GSAFD: Love stories.

Classification: LCC PS3623.I6444 N68 2020 (print) |

LCC PS3623.I6444 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020004900

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020004901

First Edition: July 2020

Cover art and design by Farjana Yasmin

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

pid_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0

CONTENTS

Cover

Praise for Kerry Winfrey

Jove Titles by Kerry Winfrey

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

For Hollis. You’re so much better than the movies.

Chapter One

I can tell what’s going on by the way the customer looks at me. The concentrated stare as I pour her coffee, the anticipatory smile as I put the lid on. This isn’t someone who’s only here for the caffeine hit. No, this is something different.

“Have a great—” I start as I hand her the drink, but she cuts me off.

“It’s you, right?” she asks, breathless, eyes wide. “From the movie?”

I’m always friendly—some might say too friendly—to our customers here at Nick’s coffee shop. It’s kind of my thing. I don’t even mind gruff patrons or rude comments; not because I’m a doormat, but because I’m genuinely not bothered by them. People have hard days, and while they definitely shouldn’t take them out on their baristas, I know it’s not about me.

But this . . . this is different. This couldn’t be more about me.

“Um, yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice down. “It’s me.”

“There’s an article about you on People.com,” she says, the excitement palpable in her rushed words. “With . . . pictures.”

I see her eyes dart toward my boss, Nick, who’s tending to the espresso machine behind me. I wince before I can stop myself.

“Oh, is there?” I say, and before she can complete her nod, I smile brightly and say, “You know, I would love to chat more, but this is our afternoon rush and, whew, we’re swamped!”

She smiles and walks away, so starstruck she doesn’t notice that there’s no one else in line. I let out a long sigh, then pull up People.com on my phone.

There it is. “The Real-Life Love Story Behind the New Film, Coffee Girl!”

There’s a picture of me, one that I don’t remember taking and certainly didn’t give to People magazine, and there are a couple of pictures of Nick and me here, at work, behind the counter. The saving grace is that I was wearing an especially cute cardigan that day, one with little embroidered flowers and bees, so at least I look good, but that doesn’t take away the strangeness inherent in seeing a picture of yourself that you didn’t even know someone took.