Book #2 in the Talisman Turner series
Perennially single Bostonian Talisman Turner has finally found the perfect boyfriend. Graham Salisbury has broad shoulders, blue-gray eyes (which, like Boston roads, are easy to get lost in), a sexy British accent, and an affinity for Bollywood films.
But…he lives three thousand miles away. So, Tali packs up her dresses, her rom-com DVD collection, and her heart’s dreams for the future and moves to London…where, she discovers, you don’t need an ocean to create distance.
Not when secrets work just as well.
In desperation, she resorts to using her trusty psychological theories on love and attraction to help her cope with Graham’s past. Will they drive the wedge even deeper–or help her bridge the gap?
If you can’t wait for Sophie Kinsella’s next release, you’ll definitely enjoy this sweet and frothy romantic comedy novel!
Here’s a brief taste of this “zero-calorie” treat:
Excerpt: Talisman Turner’s Unlucky Valentine’s Day…
I curled into a ball at the edge of the futon, clutching a throw pillow and the box of chocolates to my chest. The constricted position mirrored my constricting heart. Instead of lighting lavender-scented pillar candles, which now glowed like skeletal bones in my living room, running my peony pink nails through Graham’s soft hair, and snipping off the price tag of the Ralph Lauren colorblock matte jersey dress with a saucily short hem I had bought specially for this occasion, I’d be spending Valentine’s Day alone, watching Pretty Woman for the eighty-seventh time.
This wasn’t a crisis of epic proportions, I reminded myself. It wasn’t a natural disaster which wreaked havoc on more than one continent. It wasn’t the death of John-John Kennedy, prematurely killed before he had a chance to restore Camelot. It wasn’t the miniscule amount of screen time Angel had in the series finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
It was just Valentine’s Day.
Mouth agape, I gawked at the mostly empty box of chocolates. Surely, I hadn’t become so depressed over a commercial gambit used to boost the quarterly sales reports for florists, confectioners, and greeting card manufacturers that I had demolished all of these chocolates? Unlike Christmas, Valentine’s Day wasn’t even a real holiday.
“Like New Year’s Eve?” asked a traitorous voice in my head, oddly sharing the raspy quality of Ursula’s in The Little Mermaid. I ignored it and continued my musing. Surely, I was depressed and weepy over something more meaningful, something deeper…something more impressive…
…something like existential despair.
Frankly, I wasn’t even sure what existentialism was exactly. I merely had overheard Jem discussing it with Dylan one night when we all had gone out for sangria and tapas. But it sounded just morose enough to warrant my present state of gluttony.
The sound of someone knocking on my door jolted me out of my somber thoughts. My heartbeat quickened, and I raced to the jamb, hoping that somehow Graham had made it to Boston after all. His talk of blueberry crises was just a practical joke which I’d scold him for later–after I gave him a spine-tingling, toe-curling, welcome-back-to-the-Eastern-Standard-time-zone kiss.
But when I flung open the door, it wasn’t the blue-gray eyes of my British boyfriend I stared into, but the piercing green eyes of my ex-boyfriend, Doug.