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"A gorgeous love story from one of the finest romance writers out there." —Carley Fortune, New York Times bestselling author of Every Summer After
A New York Public Library Best Book of 2023 A Most Anticipated Book by Entertainment Weekly ∙ Harper's Bazaar ∙ PopSugar ∙ Real Simple ∙ BookRiot ∙ and more! An overworked book publicist with a perfectly planned future hits a snag when she falls in love with her temporary roommate…only to discover he lives seven years in the past, in this witty and wise new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Dead Romantics. Sometimes, the worst day of your life happens, and you have to figure out how to live after it. So Clementine forms a plan to keep her heart safe: work hard, find someone decent to love, and try to remember to chase the moon. The last one is silly and obviously metaphorical, but her aunt always told her that you needed at least one big dream to keep going. And for the last year, that plan has gone off without a hitch. Mostly. The love part is hard because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone—she isn’t sure her heart can take it. And then she finds a strange man standing in the kitchen of her late aunt’s apartment. A man with kind eyes and a Southern drawl and a taste for lemon pies. The kind of man that, before it all, she would’ve fallen head-over-heels for. And she might again. Except, he exists in the past. Seven years ago, to be exact. And she, quite literally, lives seven years in his future. Her aunt always said the apartment was a pinch in time, a place where moments blended together like watercolors. And Clementine knows that if she lets her heart fall, she’ll be doomed. After all, love is never a matter of time—but a matter of timing.
"A gorgeous love story from one of the finest romance writers out there." —Carley Fortune, New York Times bestselling author of Every Summer After
A New York Public Library Best Book of 2023 A Most Anticipated Book by Entertainment Weekly ∙ Harper's Bazaar ∙ PopSugar ∙ Real Simple ∙ BookRiot ∙ and more! An overworked book publicist with a perfectly planned future hits a snag when she falls in love with her temporary roommate…only to discover he lives seven years in the past, in this witty and wise new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Dead Romantics. Sometimes, the worst day of your life happens, and you have to figure out how to live after it. So Clementine forms a plan to keep her heart safe: work hard, find someone decent to love, and try to remember to chase the moon. The last one is silly and obviously metaphorical, but her aunt always told her that you needed at least one big dream to keep going. And for the last year, that plan has gone off without a hitch. Mostly. The love part is hard because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone—she isn’t sure her heart can take it. And then she finds a strange man standing in the kitchen of her late aunt’s apartment. A man with kind eyes and a Southern drawl and a taste for lemon pies. The kind of man that, before it all, she would’ve fallen head-over-heels for. And she might again. Except, he exists in the past. Seven years ago, to be exact. And she, quite literally, lives seven years in his future. Her aunt always said the apartment was a pinch in time, a place where moments blended together like watercolors. And Clementine knows that if she lets her heart fall, she’ll be doomed. After all, love is never a matter of time—but a matter of timing.
Due to publisher restrictions the library cannot purchase additional copies of this title, and we apologize if there is a long waiting list. Be sure to check for other copies, because there may be other editions available.
Due to publisher restrictions the library cannot purchase additional copies of this title, and we apologize if there is a long waiting list. Be sure to check for other copies, because there may be other editions available.
Excerpts-
From the cover
1
Publisher's Lunch
My aunt used to say, if you don't fit in, fool everyone until you do.
She also said to keep your passport renewed, to pair red wines with meats and whites with everything else, to find work that is fulfilling to your heart as well as your head, to never forget to fall in love whenever you can find it because love is nothing if not a matter of timing, and to chase the moon.
Always, always chase the moon.
It must have worked for her, because it never mattered where she was in the world, she was home. She waltzed through life like she belonged at every party she was never invited to, fell in love with every lonely heart she found, and found luck in every adventure. She had that air about her-tourists asked her for directions when she went abroad, servers asked her opinion on wines and fine whiskeys, celebrities asked her about her life.
Once, when we were at the Tower of London, my aunt and I accidentally found ourselves at an exclusive party at the Chapel Royal of St. Peter ad Vincula and managed to stay with a well-placed compliment and a knockoff statement necklace. There, we met a prince of Wales or Norway or somewhere, moonlighting as the DJ. I didn't remember much of the rest of that night since I overestimated my tolerance for too-expensive scotch.
But every adventure with my aunt was like that. She was the master of belonging.
If you aren't sure which fork to use at a fancy dinner? Go along with the person beside you. Lost in a city you've lived in for most of your life? Pretend you're a tourist. Listening to an opera after never hearing one ever before? Nod and comment on the chilling vibrato. Sitting in a Michelin-starred restaurant drinking a bottle of red wine that costs more than your monthly apartment rent? Comment on the body and act like you've tasted better.
Which, in this case, I had.
The two-dollar bottle of wine from Trader Joe's tasted better than this, but the delicious small plates made up for it. Bacon-wrapped dates and fried goat cheese drizzled in lavender honey and smoked trout fritters that melted in your mouth. All the while sitting in a charming little restaurant with soft yellow lightning, the front windows open to let in the sounds of the city, vines of pothos plants and evergreen ferns hanging from the sconces above us, as central air brushed across our shoulders. The walls were trimmed in mahogany, the booths a supple leather that, in this early June heat, would peel the skin off my thighs if I wasn't careful. The place was intimate, the tables spaced just far enough apart that we couldn't hear the hushed conversations of anyone else in the restaurant over the constant soft murmur from the kitchen.
If a restaurant could romance, I was utterly enchanted.
Fiona, Drew, and I sat at a small table in the Olive Branch, a Michelin-starred restaurant down in SoHo Drew had been begging to go to for the last week. I'm not usually one for long lunches, but it was a Friday in the summer, and to be fair I owed Fiona, Drew's wife, a favor, since I'd had to bail on a play last week that Drew wanted to see. Drew Torres was an editor and hungry to find unique and talented authors, so she'd dragged both me and Fiona along to the weirdest concerts, plays, and places I'd ever been to. And that was saying a lot, because I'd been to forty-three countries with my aunt and she excelled at finding weird places.
This, however, was very-very-nice.
"This is officially the fanciest lunch I've ever been to," Fiona announced, popping another bacon-wrapped date into her mouth. It was the only thing we'd ordered so far that she could eat-the rare wagyu slices...
Reviews-
April 17, 2023 With this poignant, magic-infused contemporary romance, Poston (The Dead Romantics) explores love, grief, and the courage it takes to create one’s “own adventure.” As a publicist for a boutique Manhattan book publisher, Clementine lives for work, splitting her limited personal time between her parents and her coworkers, and grieving the recent death of her larger-than-life, Auntie Mame-esque aunt, Analea. Analea left Clementine her “century-old” Upper East Side apartment, which she often described as a place where “time pinched in on itself,” but she also warned Clementine not to fall in love within its walls. Clementine learns that her aunt’s kooky stories are true when she wakes up to find young chef hopeful, Iwan, also in residence—though he’s living seven years in the past. What follows is an easily flowing and often unpredictable romance. The magical element adds a cool twist on the gradually building central relationship and Poston’s depictions of grief ring especially true and are sure to tug at readers’ heartstrings. This is an emotional delight. Agent: Holly Root, Root Literary
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Bahrain, Egypt, Hong Kong, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco, Oman, Palestine, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the Sudan, the Syrian Arab Republic, Tunisia, Turkey, the United Arab Emirates, and Yemen
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Brittany Pressley evokes a range of emotions in this missed-connections romance. New York book publicist Clementine is mourning the death of her beloved Aunt Analea and dealing with a recent breakup. When she moves into the apartment that Analea bequeathed to her, she experiences its magic firsthand: It can unexpectedly send you back in time. Thus she meets young aspiring chef Iwan, who is staying in the apartment for the summer--seven years earlier. Pressley makes the chemistry palpable as Clementine and Iwan grow closer over shared meals, but things get more complicated when she finds herself vying for a cookbook deal with present-day Iwan, now a slick executive chef who goes by James. Themes of loss, connection, and being true to yourself make for an engaging listen. J.M.D. © AudioFile 2023, Portland, Maine
