Cover

Praise

Praise for Talk Bookish to Me

“A fun and sexy romp, with chemistry that gave me all the feels!”

—Jennifer Probst, New York Times bestselling author of Our Italian Summer

“An engaging romp of a story about what happens when a romance writer uses her novel’s checkpoints to win back her first love and her life becomes stranger and better than fiction. Thoroughly enjoyable.”

—Shelley Noble, New York Times bestselling author of Imagine Summer

“Talk Bookish to Me is your new favorite comfort read! More than a romance novel, it’s an ode to the genre itself. With loveable characters, charming banter, and sizzling sexual tension, Talk Bookish to Me is an adorable escapist romp that’s sure to put a smile on your face.”

—Kristin Rockaway, author of She’s Faking It

“Chemistry that will captivate readers from the very first encounter!”

—Sajni Patel, author of The Trouble with Hating You

“Add this book to your TBR list immediately!”

—Sarah Smith, author of Faker

“It had me laughing, it had me shouting, it had me from the get-go.”

—Pernille Hughes, author of Probably the Best Kiss in the World

Dedication

For my mom, as with everything else good in my life, I couldn’t have done this without you

About the Author

Kate Bromley lives in New York City with her husband, son and her somewhat excessive collection of romance novels. (It’s not hoarding if it’s books, right?) She was a preschool teacher for seven years and is now focusing full-time on combining her two great passions—writing swoon-worthy love stories and making people laugh. Talk Bookish to Me is her first novel.

1

“Wait, was I supposed to bring a gift?”

I turn my gaze from the floor to the well-dressed man standing beside me. There are only two of us in the elevator, so he must be talking to me.

“I think it’s a matter of personal preference,” I answer. “I’m the maid of honor so I had to be excessive.”

His eyebrows bob up as I adjust my grip on the Great-Dane-sized gift basket I’m carrying. The cellophane wrapping paper crinkles each time I move, echoing through the confined space just loudly enough to keep things weird. Because if everyone isn’t uncomfortable for the entire ride, are you even really in an elevator?

I’m low-key ecstatic when the doors glide open ten seconds later. With my basket now on the cusp of breaking both my arms and my spirit, I beeline it out of there and stride into the rooftop lounge where my best friend is hosting her pre-wedding party, drinking in the scent of heat and champagne as I maneuver through the sea of guests.