Kiss Her Once for Me: A Novel by Alison Cochrun (English) Paperback Book

Description: Kiss Her Once for Me by Alison Cochrun The author of the "swoon-worthy debut" (Harpers Bazaar) The Charm Offensive returns with a festive romantic comedy about a woman who fakes an engagement with her landlord…only to fall for his sister. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Winner of Lambda Literary Award for Best LGBTQ+ Romance A Best New Holiday Romance by PopSugar, BuzzFeed, Refinery29, and more! The author of the "swoon-worthy debut" (Harpers Bazaar) The Charm Offensive returns with a festive romantic comedy about a woman who fakes an engagement with her landlord…only to fall for his sister.One year ago, recent Portland transplant Ellie Oliver had her dream job in animation and a Christmas Eve meet-cute with a woman at a bookstore that led her to fall in love over the course of a single night. But after a betrayal the next morning and the loss of her job soon after, she finds herself adrift, alone, and desperate for money. Finding work at a local coffee shop, shes just getting through the days—until Andrew, the shops landlord, proposes a shocking, drunken plan: a marriage of convenience that will give him his recent inheritance and alleviate Ellies financial woes and isolation. They make a plan to spend the holidays together at his family cabin to keep up the ruse. But when Andrew introduces his new fiancée to his sister, Ellie is shocked to discover its Jack—the mysterious woman she fell for over the course of one magical Christmas Eve the year before. Now, Ellie must choose between the safety of a fake relationship and the risk of something real. Perfect for fans of Written in the Stars and One Day in December, Kiss Her Once for Me is the queer holiday rom-com that youll want to cozy up with next to the fire. Author Biography Alison Cochrun is a former high school English teacher and a current writer of queer love stories, including The Charm Offensive and Kiss Her Once for Me. She lives outside of Portland, Oregon, with two giant dogs, her small wife, and too many books. You can find her online at AlisonCochrun.com or on Instagram as @AlisonCochrun. Review "Cue snowbound high jinks, four-way romantic entanglements, a hilarious set of relatives and enough musical earworms to last you till January. Thats right, this is the queer womens "While You Were Sleeping" you didnt know you needed this Christmas season." —The New York Times "Fans of Alison Cochruns debut, The Charm Offensive, will love her new queer romance . . . . Read this sexy, insightful, and utterly charming book." —Buzzfeed"Cochruns cozy second novel is chock full of holiday cheer, pop music, and queer happy endings… Ellie and Jacks love story is gentle, and readers will appreciate every grand gesture, whether it takes place on a snowy bridge, a ski lift, or even a dingy dive-bar bathroom. A heartwarming queer romance reminiscent of Wham!s Last Christmas." —Kirkus Reviews"[T]his holiday-themed romance is sure to warm even the coldest readers heart."—Library Journal"A sparkling winter wonderland, quirky family traditions, and a messy love trapezoid make the yuletide gay in this earnest queer rom-com… its delightful to watch this clever spin on the fake dating trope unfold. This is a winner." —Publishers Weekly "Dizzyingly adorable and brimming with laugh-out loud humor, Kiss Her Once for Me is the new rom-com gold standard. Alison Cochrun writes with palpable compassion, tenderness, and heart that makes every page a memorable one. I swooned, squealed, and shrieked my way through this absolute masterpiece." —Mazey Eddings, author of Lizzie Blakes Best Mistake"Beautifully tender and delightfully sexy, Kiss Her Once for Me is the holiday romance of my dreams. A cozy, cinnamon-scented hug of a book." —Ashley Herring Blake, author of Delilah Green Doesnt Care"Kiss Her Once for Me is a gift of a story. Capturing the festive charm and nostalgia of the season, the fresh-fallen-snow wonder of falling head over heels, this holiday romance also reminds us that giving and receiving love can be as tangled as a knot of Christmas lights, yet with patience and perseverance, finally unwound, no less beautiful, the glowing joy we all deserve." —Chloe Liese, author of Two Wrongs Make a Right"Big-hearted, affirming, and dreamy—Kiss Her Once For Me is an ode to those in search of love, family, and a new lease on life." —Timothy Janovsky, author of Never Been Kissed"Cochruns writing is by turns whip-smart, hilarious, and deeply vulnerable. Kiss Her Once For Me is both a queer celebration and subversion of romance tropes, along with being a love letter to Portland and an incisive exploration of family, art, and failure. Jack and Elles swooningly romantic love story will make even the most cynical among us believe in the magic of snow days." —Anita Kelly, author of Love and Other Disasters Review Quote " Kiss Her Once for Me is a gift of a story. Capturing the festive charm and nostalgia of the season, the fresh-fallen-snow wonder of falling head over heels, this holiday romance also reminds us that giving and receiving love can be as tangled as a knot of Christmas lights, yet with patience and perseverance, finally unwound, no less beautiful, the glowing joy we all deserve." -- Chloe Liese, author of Two Wrongs Make a Right Excerpt from Book Chapter One Chapter One Tuesday, December 13, 2022 There is almost an inch of snow on the ground, so naturally, the entire city is on the verge of collapse. Since buses are delayed, I tighten the red, hand-knitted scarf around my neck and plow angrily down Belmont Street. Cars are Tetrised bumper to bumper from the arcade all the way to the dispensary because no one here knows how to drive in the snow. Schools have prematurely closed for the day, and children appear in every doorway and walkway, dancing joyfully, catching snowflakes on their tongues. Up ahead, I watch two kids attempt to make snowballs that are at least 90 percent dirt. Leave it to Portland, Oregon, to be simultaneously so delighted and so horrified by such a modest amount of snow. And, quite frankly: fuck the snow . By most meteorological definitions, this doesnt even constitute snow. Its small and wet, falls too quickly, and halfway melts into the concrete as soon as it lands. Still, its enough to delay the buses and completely derail my day. I reach into the pocket of my puffy jacket and pull out my phone to check the time again. Three minutes. I have three minutes and ten blocks to go, which means Im going to be late for work. And if Im late for work, I definitely wont get the promotion and pay raise I so desperately need. And Ill probably get fired. Again . And if I get fired again, Ill probably lose my apartment. Two days ago, the neon-yellow flyer appeared in the slit of my front door, informing me of the raise in rent January first. Fourteen hundred dollars a month for four hundred square feet of subterranean hellscape in Southeast Portland. If I lose my apartment, I will have to find housing in a city with a horrible housing crisis. And if I cant find a new place to live... The anxiety extrapolates and catastrophizes all the way to its natural conclusion: if Im late for work again, my trash heap of a life will finally be put in the compactor and crushed into a cube of steaming hot garbage once and for all. Why does Portland snow always insist on ruining my life? The image creeps in. The girl with fire in her eyes and snow in her hair. Dancing on a bridge at midnight. The sound of her laugh in my ear and her breath on my throat and her hands-- But no . Theres no point in torturing myself with the memory of last Christmas. I look down to check the time again just as my phone buzzes with an incoming call. The cracked screen on my iPhone 8 flashes with the name Linds along with a photo of a woman holding a two-gallon alcoholic beverage outside the Bellagio. I briefly consider ignoring the call, but Catholic guilt, solidified in infancy, wins out. "Hey, Linds--" "Did you Venmo me that money?" my mother starts as soon as the call connects. Its abundantly clear that no , I did not Venmo her the money, or else Lindsey Oliver would have no reason to call me. "Not yet." "Elena. Lovey. Baby girl." Linds adopts her best mom voice--the one she probably learned from watching Nick at Nite reruns while stoned through the better part of the late nineties. Lindsey Oliver insists everyone, including her only child, calls her Linds, while she exclusively calls me Elena despite the fact that Im Ellie, that Ive always been an Ellie, that Elena fits me like a too-tight pair of jeans. "I really need that money, sweetheart. Its just two hundred dollars." I can perfectly picture my mothers pouting face on the other end of the line. Her dark brown hair, which she dyes a stark blond; the natural waves she straightens every morning; the pale skin shes eradicated through numerous tanning salon punch cards; the high cheekbones she highlights through contouring. I can picture her face because its my face, except I still have the curly brown hair Linds calls "frizzy" and the pale skin that makes me look "washed out." If my mother isnt asking me for money, shes probably criticizing my appearance. "I promise, this will be the last time I ask," she insists. "Im sure it will be," I huff as I jog to catch the tail end of a "Walk" sign. Not for the first time in my life, I regret that my only means of physical exercise is the occasional kitchen dance party while I wait for my frozen burrito to heat up in the microwave. "Im just a little strapped for cash at the moment with my student loans and my rent, but hopefully Ill get this promotion to assistant manager, and--" "Its not my fault you insisted on going to college forever and got fired from Lycra Studios," she snaps. "Laika Studios," I correct her for the dozenth time. My mother may switch her career goals as frequently and thoughtlessly as she shuffles through husbands, but she never misses the chance to remind me of my greatest failure. I dont let her see how these words affect me, though--dont let her know about the hot kernel of shame that blossoms in my stomach. "And I didnt go to college forever," I manage casually. "I got a masters of fine arts in animation." "And whats the point of having that fancy degree if you cant financially provide for your elderly parents?" Linds is forty-six. Her rant is really starting to build now. "For eighteen years," she laments, "I clothed you! I fed you! I kept a roof over your head!" Her claims of providing for my basic needs are greatly exaggerated. When I was twelve, Id asked my mother for money for new art supplies. Linds hadnt taken it well. "Do you know how much it costs to raise a child? And you want more?" "Add it to my tab!" Id screamed in a fit of preteen surliness. And Linds had screamed back, "Maybe I will!" And she had. Lindsey had calculated the cost of my existence down to the nickel, and she expects full reimbursement. Unfortunately, saying no to my mother is not a skill I developed in the first twenty-five years of my life. I exhale a lifetime of parental disappointment into the wet, snowy air. "Okay. Ill see what I can do to get you the money." Her voice goes soft on the line as she coos, "Thank you, Elena, my darling." And this is it. This is my moment. I need to strike while shes briefly filled with maternal pride and affection. "So, Christmas is less than two weeks away," I hedge. "Any chance youll make it up to Portland for the holidays this year?" There is a desperate hopefulness in my voice, even though I already know the answer. She didnt come last Christmas, and she wont come this Christmas, and Im only setting myself up for heartbreak. And is that even what I really want? To spend Christmas morning scraping a hungover Linds off the floor between suffering her rants about everything from my lackluster physical appearance to my even lacklustier love life? The last time we spent Christmas together back in Cleveland--before Linds followed husband number three to Arizona--she dragged me to a nightclub, tried to set me up with a handsy forty-year-old Realtor named Rick, and then promptly ditched me so she could go home with Ricks friend. I didnt see her for three days after that. I was nineteen. My mother had provided the fake ID. Happy fucking holidays . Is that really my Christmas wish? The answer is, apparently, yes . I dont have anyone else. If last Christmas is any indication, its best Im not alone for the holidays. I tend to make misguided life choices in the name of loneliness. "Why would I leave Phoenix for somewhere wet and cold?" Linds asks, reminding me that my Christmas wishes are always irrelevant. "Because Im here?" She smacks her lips into the phone. "Elena Oliver, dont do that." "Dont do what?" "Youre so dramatic. Youve always been like this. Dont get all sensitive and try to make me feel guilty for not wanting to spend Christmas in the rain." "I wasnt--" A deep voice growls in the background of the call, and Linds mutters something under her breath in reply. "I gotta go." "I could always fly down to Phoenix," I offer pathetically. So very pathetically . Just a twenty-five-year-old woman, begging her mother to spend Christmas with her. "Nows not a good time for that. Just Venmo me the money by tonight, okay?" Thats it. No happy holidays . No I love you . The call disconnects before I can even say goodbye. The earlier shame in my stomach is eclipsed by the aching hole of loneliness in my chest. Im going to spend Christmas by myself in my squalid studio apartment, eating a five-dollar rotisserie chicken over my kitchen sink for dinner. Homesickness sluices through me, but there is no home to be sick for, nothing waiting for me here or anywhere. I dont let myself think about the brief moment last Christmas when I thought Id found someone to ease the ache, a person to call home. But Im always alone, have always been alone, and just because its Christmas doesnt mean theres any reason for that to change. You can feel just as lost and aimless at Christmas as any other time of the year. I pause as I wait for a walk sign, and around me, the snow is already turning to rain. The thing about snow is, it never lasts, and youre always left a slightly dingier version of the world when it start Details ISBN1982191139 Author Alison Cochrun Short Title Kiss Her Once for Me Language English Year 2022 ISBN-10 1982191139 ISBN-13 9781982191139 Format Paperback Subtitle A Novel Pages 368 Publisher Simon & Schuster Imprint Simon & Schuster Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Publication Date 2022-12-22 NZ Release Date 2022-12-22 US Release Date 2022-12-22 UK Release Date 2022-12-22 DEWEY 813.6 Audience General AU Release Date 2022-11-29 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:160750947;

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