Book Blurb
It's Bridget Jones meets "Groundhog Day"...
Ever wonder if you made the right choice? What if you could go back and find out?
31-year-old Clara is in a steady relationship—with Facebook. Every night after her depressing bureaucratic job (so much for saving the world), Clara comes home to her empty apartment (yes, she was dumped) and settles down with a pint of ice cream for some good, old-fashioned Facebook stalking. It's her college boyfriend, The One Who Got Away. With the bod of a God and a net worth of umpteen bamillion, he now has the perfect life—everything she could have had if she hadn't been so, so stupid.
But, wait. Jeanie from Facebook shows up at Clara's job. There's a new app they're beta-testing and Clara's perfect for it. That night she clicks on it and... nothing happens. But the next morning when Clara wakes up at noon, hung over, listening to her roommate blow-drying her hair and singing "Gettin' Jiggy Wit It", she realizes she's back in college. With the chance to do it all over again.
Back in the world of frat parties, BFFs, and long-suffering, overlooked lab partners, join Clara as she discovers what it really means to hit the reset button on life. What could possibly go wrong? And, this time, can she get it right?
Excerpt
Chapter 1 Excerpt
Once Upon a Time
Clara clicked on the lower-case f icon along the base of her laptop. Laser-like focus, plowing past Facebook status updates, notifications and sponsored ads, she clicked over to friends, then selected him. Mr. Right. The One Who Got Away: Brad Wilkins.
Beach photos first. Because she’d had a long, hard day. She clicked on the album titled Summer.
Blond hair kissed by the sun and tousled by the wind, he stood like a Norse god on the beach. He flashed a rugged, knowing smile. The bright aquamarine of his eyes matched the ocean, the sky and the color of dreams. Move over Chris Hemsworth, there was a new Thor in town. And he’d hit the beach, tanned, rested and ready for the ladies.
An entire paragraph needed to be devoted to his chest. He had the shoulders of a lumberjack accustomed to hauling telephone poles. Pecs so hard and defined a girl could eat dinner off of them, or simply make them the meal. A six pack that mocked other men’s six packs. Put it all together and it made you want to petition NBC to bring back Baywatch, this time starring Brad Wilkins. Millions would tune in each week for the new episode, holding their collective breaths for the moment he took off in a run, shirtless, on the beach. In slow-motion he’d rescue… no one could ever tell you who because every ounce of attention would be riveted to those ripped muscles in action, the way his bicep bulged when he cradled the victim, the way the sunlight almost seemed to magnify the flexing. The man could not possibly ooze more sex appeal. She could practically hear Robin Thicke singing into her ear, “You know you want it.”
But wait, there was more. Clara clicked onto some new photos. Brad in a tux, debonair and polished yet still with the hint of the rake. Brad holding a beer and looking like a long, tall, cool drink himself in a crisp, dark blue pinstripe suit. The designer should pay him for wearing it, showing other men how it should be done, filling it out with sheer male prowess. You could put a suit on the man, but you’d never tame him.
Brad wore suits because he didn’t just play around at the beach all day. The man earned six maybe seven figures a year as an investment banker in New York City. Net worth, including the trust fund? Somewhere near upteenbamillion. The man pulled it down, brought home the bacon and the pan to fry it in. Then made you forget about dinner, anyway, because, there, he just took off his shirt.
Not for the first time, Clara reflected on the sad lack of a soundtrack to accompany clicking through Facebook photos. Because if anyone deserved the romantic, symphonic swells that enhanced the viewing pleasure of a Nicholas Sparks film, it was Brad.
Click. Those pearly whites never failed. Clara put a hand to her chest to still her beating heart.
Should have been. Click. Could have been. Click. Would have been. Click.
What she wouldn’t give for just one wish. She didn’t need three like Aladdin, no flying carpet and rich, elaborate entourage. Just one.
If she only had one wish, just one, she’d go back to college and set things right. She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but Brad, almost convincing herself that if she cleared everything else from her mind, focused intently enough, maybe somehow she could be transported back in time. Back to college. Because this time, she’d do everything different. And this time, she knew she’d get it right.
Once Upon a Time
Clara clicked on the lower-case f icon along the base of her laptop. Laser-like focus, plowing past Facebook status updates, notifications and sponsored ads, she clicked over to friends, then selected him. Mr. Right. The One Who Got Away: Brad Wilkins.
Beach photos first. Because she’d had a long, hard day. She clicked on the album titled Summer.
Blond hair kissed by the sun and tousled by the wind, he stood like a Norse god on the beach. He flashed a rugged, knowing smile. The bright aquamarine of his eyes matched the ocean, the sky and the color of dreams. Move over Chris Hemsworth, there was a new Thor in town. And he’d hit the beach, tanned, rested and ready for the ladies.
An entire paragraph needed to be devoted to his chest. He had the shoulders of a lumberjack accustomed to hauling telephone poles. Pecs so hard and defined a girl could eat dinner off of them, or simply make them the meal. A six pack that mocked other men’s six packs. Put it all together and it made you want to petition NBC to bring back Baywatch, this time starring Brad Wilkins. Millions would tune in each week for the new episode, holding their collective breaths for the moment he took off in a run, shirtless, on the beach. In slow-motion he’d rescue… no one could ever tell you who because every ounce of attention would be riveted to those ripped muscles in action, the way his bicep bulged when he cradled the victim, the way the sunlight almost seemed to magnify the flexing. The man could not possibly ooze more sex appeal. She could practically hear Robin Thicke singing into her ear, “You know you want it.”
But wait, there was more. Clara clicked onto some new photos. Brad in a tux, debonair and polished yet still with the hint of the rake. Brad holding a beer and looking like a long, tall, cool drink himself in a crisp, dark blue pinstripe suit. The designer should pay him for wearing it, showing other men how it should be done, filling it out with sheer male prowess. You could put a suit on the man, but you’d never tame him.
Brad wore suits because he didn’t just play around at the beach all day. The man earned six maybe seven figures a year as an investment banker in New York City. Net worth, including the trust fund? Somewhere near upteenbamillion. The man pulled it down, brought home the bacon and the pan to fry it in. Then made you forget about dinner, anyway, because, there, he just took off his shirt.
Not for the first time, Clara reflected on the sad lack of a soundtrack to accompany clicking through Facebook photos. Because if anyone deserved the romantic, symphonic swells that enhanced the viewing pleasure of a Nicholas Sparks film, it was Brad.
Click. Those pearly whites never failed. Clara put a hand to her chest to still her beating heart.
Should have been. Click. Could have been. Click. Would have been. Click.
What she wouldn’t give for just one wish. She didn’t need three like Aladdin, no flying carpet and rich, elaborate entourage. Just one.
If she only had one wish, just one, she’d go back to college and set things right. She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but Brad, almost convincing herself that if she cleared everything else from her mind, focused intently enough, maybe somehow she could be transported back in time. Back to college. Because this time, she’d do everything different. And this time, she knew she’d get it right.
Promo
Author Info
She would like to thank MCM cover design, mcm@1889.ca, for the awesome “Facebook Jeanie” cover. And for the unfailing patience with questions such as “should she have an earring” and “do her pinks clash?” Addison loves to hear from readers, so please find her at:
Author website: http://addisonwestlake.blogspot.com
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6584540.Addison_Westlake
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AddisonWestlake
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/addison.westlake
Google Plus: gplus.to/addisonwestlake
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