Dear Carly, Becky, and Judy:
I must confess that sometimes, when I am signing books, I make errors. I write Carly instead of Carli, Judy instead of Judi, or write Becky for the same book 2 times in a row and don’t realize the error until we’re mailing books out.
So.
I’ve decided that instead of donating these “oops!” signed books to my local thrift shop or local Little Free Libraries like I typically do, instead I’ll have some fun with my newsletter list and do some giveaways.
If your name is Carly (or you have a Carly in your life who might like my books) and you DO NOT have a copy of Love You Now in print, reply and let me know - the first Carly gets this already-signed print book (US folks only - sorry! Shipping is rough overseas right now).
If your name is Becky (or you have a Becky in your life who might like my books) and you DO NOT have a copy of Love You Right in print, reply and let me know - the first Becky gets this already-signed print book (US folks only - sorry).
If your name is Judy (or you have a Judy in your life who might like my books) and you DO NOT have a copy of Completely Complicated in print, reply and let me know - the first Judy gets this already-signed print book (US folks only).
These are entirely free, shipping is on me. I’d love to see these find a good home!
I have a fair number of “oops” books (apparently, I shove them in various spots in my office closet as I hide the evidence of my mistakes, and we’re unearthing them now as I declutter), so keep watching for more names. I’m an endless blooper reel when it comes to signing books…
Chirp Audiobooks has this Tanya Eby/Zachary Webber narration masterpiece on sale right now, so head on over and grab it!
FYI: One Night (Band) Stand has been moved to September 30, 2026 for release. I have yet more family health issues (all is stable, just... there’s a lot).
Part of the reason for the delay is this:
1. I have completely, hopelessly fallen in love with Jared and Kelsey and it’s hard not to go into a lot of fun subplots with them, so what was supposed to be a short book... ain’t.
2. Family health stuff. Clark’s most recent scans were CLEAN (hooray!), so no metastasis, but there’s so much more going on as we prepare for his endothelial cell transplant the second week of August. I can’t write/edit a book while helping my poor husband through that, so...
3. D got invited to an unexpected week of family camp at a WONDERFUL place called Dream Day on Cape Cod (our third summer). It’s a camp for families with kids with life-limiting and chronic illness. See attached pictures. So that had to be allocated for, time-wise, as it’s one of the highlights of D’s year (and it’s been a very rough year!).
4. Clark got the freaking cyclosporosis thing! He’s the only person in the family to have eaten at a major chain that rhymes with MyAssIsNowaBoatLee and for a guy with Crohn’s *and* cancer, it’s thrown our family into a tailspin.
5. My own recent rare eye condition diagnosis. I KNOW, RIGHT? WTF… it’s nothing like Clark’s, but it’s not fun. Separate newsletter for that shortly. Turns out I have a condition with fewer than 200 cases documented worldwide since 1906, when it was first identified… and it’s interfering with my editing/writing. :(
So - the book is coming, just delayed yet again. Watch for my newsletter for more details and a very fun excerpt from One Night (Band) Stand.
Pictures: me at Schoolhouse Ice Cream on Cape Cod. D petting a therapy dog at camp.
And pre-order One Night (Band) Stand. Here’s a long excerpt from it:
“I like being with you,” she says, taking in slow, deep breaths. “You’re nothing like any guy I’ve ever been with.”
“I am hoping that’s a compliment.”
“If you met any of them, you’d get an inflated ego by seeing how much better you are.”
“Never been someone’s upgrade before.”
“It suits you.”
I stop her and turn her into me, the kiss slow and simple. We both keep saying the word easy, and it’s becoming a mantra inside me. When we break away, I whisper, “I’m not an upgrade. You’re actively upgrading me. I didn’t know someone like you was out there, Kelsey. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you.” She wraps her arms around me and I hug her hard, too, the moment long and flowing. A joint in my back pops, a soft crack that only comes from relaxing muscles so tight they’re immobilizing bones.
“Was that your back?”
“Yeah. Something close to my neck.”
“I relax you.”
“Yes.”
“That’s an honor.”
“Kelsey?”
“Hmm?”
“All those other men were idiots.”
“I know.”
“And I’m grateful they were.”
This time, the kiss is more emotional, tender and long, so easy to get lost inside, so nice to just give in to. She’s holding me and I’m holding her and everything goes calm in my head and please, God, don’t take her away, too.
I can’t live through that again.
We embrace, my chin on her shoulder, fitting into each other’s bodies still new. She’s a little taller than Stacey, maybe an inch or so, but the composition is so different. We’ll find our way over time, I know but we’re like new shoes on old feet, figuring out where to settle in, what to leave be, and how to move forward.
We’ll break each other in.
She shivers and says, “Let’s get back to the house. I want something sweet.”
“I already have it,” I tell her. We smile at each other and start back. After a few steps, I ask, “Kelsey?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask about your family?”
Her whole body tightens, and regret fills me, but I just pause. It seems like she needs to tell me and doesn’t know how to start. People need silence sometimes to figure things out.
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
Her sigh feels like she’s disappointed. Not in me, though.
“I have to tell it eventually, right? Might as well now. Where are your parents?”
“Right now, or in general?”
“Both.”
“Uh, they live in Tennessee, but right now they’re in New Hampshire.”
“Ask me the same question.”
“Where are your parents, Kelsey?”
“My dad is in federal prison for the rest of his life, and I haven’t seen my mom since I was eleven.”
My feet halt before my brain tells them to. Her eyes turn away from me, jumpy, yet the rest of her is quite still.
“Wow.”
“I know, right? So much glamor.”
“No, I mean - how old were you when he went to prison?”
“Eight.”
My own daughter is a year older than that.
“And your mom raised you alone until you were eleven?”
“No. She was in jail for a while, too. Grandma took me in when they were arrested.”
Something about that phrasing, “took me in,” doesn’t set well.
“Arrested for...?”
“Really bad piccolo playing.”
It’s funny, but it’s not, and I don’t laugh as much as I know she wishes I would.
Come join me on a typical Julia Kent romantic comedy journey where it gets serious - fast - but then you’re crying through laughter. Or laughing through tears.
Like life. <3
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