By Shannon Hale
From New York occasions bestselling writer Shannon Hale comes an completely pleasant novel that asks the query: Can a probably common, fortunately married Mormon mom of 4 be top buddies with Hollywood's preferred (happily married) heartthrob?
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Sample text
She gathered her purse, glasses, and contract in an awkward bundle and saw herself out the door. The offices of Bub and Hubbub Productions sat a couple dozen stories above Los Angeles, the windows squaring off with other high-rises against the grayish tint of polluted air. She’d been expecting something fancy, it being the movie biz and all, but the offices evoked a high school teachers’ break room. She supposed movie folk saved all the razzle-dazzle for the screen. Becky had to use the ladies’ room, so she waddled across the hall to a law firm.
Oh, she is so coy. She’s curling up and appears to be . . ” “Eyes closed, head down. And she’s rolling . . ” Then Annette piped up. “Wow, that’s a crack-up, huh? ” Becky felt that familiar tight sensation rushing from her belly, up into her throat. She tried to clamp down on it, but that only increased its power. She squeaked, and out it came. But here was the curiosity: Felix laughed with her, as if they were old pals on the same side of a joke. It gave her a strange, fluttery feeling in her middle—a kind of happiness, and a kind of alarm.
Becky took a deep spoonful of ice cream to keep her mouth occupied, because she wanted to grin right at him, a big old embarrassingly pleased grin. He’s not Augie, she reminded herself—he’s Felix Callahan. And you’re wearing a purple canvas tent for a shirt. But she did glance at him and saw that Felix was smiling in his slow, sweet way, a smile full of fondness and ideas, and she felt it hit her in the gut. He was most definitely Felix Callahan. ” he asked. “What, are you serious? ” He looked at the dance floor, where a tourist couple who seemed pretty well toasted were spinning and swaying to the DJ’s music.