Bestselling author Emma Nichols presents a new adult contemporary romance fans and critics are comparing to works of Jennifer Weiner. Snark and heart make The Souvenir a novel that will leave readers desperate for more.
Blurb:
Wren Jacobs—a twenty-something corporate trainer— would like to announce the birth of her baby, Taylor, named after the artist singing “Bad Blood” during the conception. Mother and child are adjusting nicely and ready to welcome visitors, especially the father, Brady Conner.
Despite a few too many misunderstandings, Wren never stopped loving Brady…and would love the opportunity to thank him for her souvenir from their relationship who weighed in at a whopping 8lbs 5oz, effectively ruining her after an unintentional natural delivery. Taylor’s birth will forever remind Wren of the first day of summer, the last time she was ever able to wear a bikini, and that she’ll probably never go to a bar again.
Follow Wren and Brady as they navigate through the tricky dating scene in this touching romantic comedy, and fall in love with the souvenir of their relationship.
Excerpt:
The radio blared a Kid Rock song we used to sing together. All signs pointed to success. A smile even played on the corner of my lips as I stepped out of the truck carrying her breakfast. When I neared the breezeway, I could hear her voice coming from outside. Curious, I peeked around the corner, determined to find her. I hesitated when I realized there was a male voice joined with hers.
“So, you’re going to the doctor, right?” Her voice sounded light, happy.
I flattened myself against the side of the building, out of sight, but not out of earshot. I hoped if I listened long enough, I’d recognize the guy, or at least know if she was a lost cause.
“What the hell do I need a doctor for?” The guy laughed.
I heard the scrape of a chair on concrete and imagined the worst.
“It’s not natural to pee that much. And it could be lethal to flush that early.”
They both laughed at her words. Great. They already had a shared joke.
“No, but seriously, Trey.” Apparently she waited for the new guy to stop laughing.
“Okay. Serious.”
She giggled, a sound, which normally brought me such joy, but instead brought on new chest pains. I dropped the
Panera bag in the grass so I could rub my sternum.
“Is that your serious face? Really?” Wren laughed again. “No more with the flushing or we’re through.”
“Okay!” Trey chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to give up all this. I love scalding hot tea. My taste buds may never recover.”
He cleared his throat. “Luckily, I had the toaster strudel to ice it down with.”
Wren snickered. “Stop it. It wasn’t that bad. Oh, and if you want a better breakfast, you should’ve brought it.”
“Touché. In my defense, I couldn’t be sure you were worth the chocolate croissants.”
A chair creaked. “How about now?”
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