A Cosmic Kind of Love, page 1
PRAISE FOR
A COSMIC KIND OF LOVE
“Wow. I’ve been reading Samantha Young for years, and she has actually managed to top herself with A Cosmic Kind of Love.”
—Tessa Bailey, New York Times bestselling author of It Happened One Summer
“With a premise that shines like the brightest constellation, Samantha Young delivers a refreshing and delicious rom-com about star-crossed lovers event planner Hallie Goodman and NASA astronaut Christopher Ortiz. [With] sizzling chemistry, a tangible connection, and complex characters I rooted for from the get-go, A Cosmic Kind of Love did in fact launch my heart into space and left me on Earth, starry-eyed and hoping for my own Captain Chris Ortiz.”
—Elena Armas, New York Times bestselling author of The Spanish Love Deception
“A Cosmic Kind of Love will fly you to the moon and leave you stargazing. This clever romantic comedy about two souls brought together by the stars is everything you need in your life, complete with swoons, smiles, and steam enough to power a rocket. A Cosmic Kind of Love doesn’t just get five stars—it gets the whole galaxy.”
—Staci Hart, author of Wasted Words
PRAISE FOR
MUCH ADO ABOUT YOU
“Bestselling author Samantha Young’s latest rom-com, Much Ado About You, is as cozy as a well-worn blanket.”
—PopSugar
PRAISE FOR
FIGHT OR FLIGHT
“A delightfully flirty read full of banter and heat, Fight or Flight also captivated me with the depth of its emotional intuition. . . . I was left at the end hugging my copy, both satisfied with the fantastic read and bereft that it was over.”
—New York Times, USA Today, and #1 international bestselling author Christina Lauren
“[Young’s] books have it all—gorgeous writing, sexy characters, heartbreak—I’m addicted.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Vi Keeland
“Funny, witty, sexy, and a little heartbreaking. [Young’s] outdone herself with Fight or Flight, and that’s saying a lot.”
—USA Today bestselling author Penny Reid
“Utterly delicious and addictive, Fight or Flight is Samantha Young at her best. I could not put it down.”
—New York Times bestselling author Kristen Callihan
“This romance is a knockout. . . . Passionate, pure, and a perfect addition to the genre; a romance with real heart.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Young makes the temperature rise in this sexy new novel, which blurs the line between friends and friends with benefits. . . . Readers will finish the novel craving more.”
—Booklist
PRAISE FOR NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR SAMANTHA YOUNG AND HER NOVELS
“Young pens a wonderful romance with lovable, multifaceted characters who want what everyone wants—someone to love them, no matter what.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Full of tenderness, fire, sexiness, and intrigue, Every Little Thing is everything I hope to find in a romance.”
—Vilma’s Book Blog
“Ms. Young delivers a character-driven story line that is gripping from the get-go, injecting a beloved enemies-to-lovers trope with intense angst and eroticism.”
—Natasha Is a Book Junkie
“A really sexy book. . . . Highly recommend this one.”
—USA Today
“Humor, heartbreak, drama, and passion.”
—The Reading Cafe
“Young writes stories that stay with you long after you flip that last page.”
—Under the Covers
“Charismatic characters, witty dialogue, blazing-hot sex scenes, and real-life issues make this book an easy one to devour.”
—Fresh Fiction
Also by Samantha Young
THE HART’S BOARDWALK SERIES
Every Little Thing
The One Real Thing
THE ON DUBLIN STREET SERIES
Moonlight on Nightingale Way
Echoes of Scotland Street
Fall from India Place
Before Jamaica Lane
Down London Road
On Dublin Street
One King’s Way (novella)
Until Fountain Bridge (novella)
Castle Hill (novella)
Hero
Fight or Flight
Much Ado About You
Berkley Romance
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright © 2022 by Samantha Young
Readers Guide copyright © 2022 by Samantha Young
Excerpt from Much Ado About You copyright © 2021 by Samantha Young
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY is a registered trademark and Berkley Romance with B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Young, Samantha, author.
Title: A cosmic kind of love / Samantha Young.
Description: First Edition. | New York : Berkley Romance, 2022.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022014841 (print) | LCCN 2022014842 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593438619 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780593438626 (ebook)
Subjects: LCGFT: Love stories | Novels.
Classification: LCC PR6125.O943 C67 2022 (print) | LCC PR6125.O943 (ebook) | DDC 823/.92—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022014841
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022014842
First Edition: October 2022
Cover design and illustration by Colleen Reinhart
Book design by Daniel Brount, adapted for ebook by Molly Jeszke
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
Cover
Praise for Samantha Young
Also by Samantha Young
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Epilogue
Readers Guide
Discussion Questions
Excerpt from Much Ado About You
About the Author
ONE
Hallie
PRESENT DAY
So what stupid thing happened to you today?”
I stumbled on one of the concrete steps that led up to my apartment as my boyfriend’s question echoed off the stairwell walls from the loudspeaker on my phone.
A flush of irritation made itself known in my cheeks even though George’s tone was teasing. “Nothing,” I replied defensively as I continued climbing, trying not to sound out of breath.
I struggled to hold my phone and my oversized purse with one hand while I opened the door with the other.
“Come on.” George chuckled. “Something had to have happened. It’s been almost a week since the last one, so that’s, like, a record.”
“The sandwich doesn’t count.” I huffed, dumping my bag onto my small dining table, which doubled as my office desk.
“Eating something that makes you nauseated to please a client counts.”
So, okay, maybe I ate several salmon-and-cucumber sandwiches at a client meeting even though the slippery, slimy texture of the salmon made me want to vomit. “Please d
“You’re telling me you’ve gone a full week without something ridiculous happening?”
Perhaps I was merely exhausted and low on a sense of humor, but sometimes it seemed like George only stuck around because he found me entertaining. And not in a good way.
Biting back hurt feelings, I wondered if my defensiveness was less about feeling tired and more about the fact that something stupid had happened to me today. “Fine.” I cringed. “About thirty minutes ago, I was on the subway and I saw this guy standing across from me who was super familiar, and he kept looking over at me.”
“Right . . .”
The mortifying moment was doubly awkward as I relived it. I squeezed my eyes closed against the memory, gritting my teeth. “Well, have you ever bumped into someone who you know but you can’t place them or remember their name?”
“Yeah, that’s the worst.”
“Exactly. I’m thinking, Oh God, I know this guy, it’s probably from college, but for the life of me I can’t remember his name. When he looks at me again, kind of squinting, I’m thinking, Jesus, he knows me and he thinks I’m so rude for not saying hello. . . . So I just cover my ass and blurt out, ‘Aren’t you going to say hello? It’s been forever; it’s great to see you again.’ ”
“And?”
I buried my face in my hands, just moving my fingers from my mouth so George could hear my reply. “He looked at me like I was crazy and said, ‘I’m sorry, we’ve never met before. I have no idea who you are.’ Well, I couldn’t explain to him who I was because I couldn’t remember who he was, so we just stood there trying to avoid each other’s eyes for the next ten minutes, and just as I got off the subway . . . I remembered where I knew him from.”
“Where?”
My cheeks almost blistered my fingers with the heat of my embarrassment. “It was Joe Ashley, the news anchor, whom I have never met before but do watch regularly on TV.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the sounds of choked laughter came from my phone. George was laughing so hard a reluctant smile curled the corners of my mouth.
“Oh man, oh babe, I’m sorry.” George hee-hawed. “I don’t mean to . . . but that’s hilarious.”
“I aim to entertain,” I said dryly, switching on my coffee machine.
“Only you,” he snorted. “These things only happen to you.”
It certainly felt that way sometimes. I attempted to change the subject back to the reason I’d called him. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Uh, yeah . . . but I was thinking you could come here and I could cook.”
A romantic dinner at his place? My earlier annoyance fled the building. How sweet. How unlike him. It was our three-month “anniversary” next week. Maybe he wanted to commemorate it. I grinned, my mood lifting. “That sounds great. What time? Should I bring anything?”
“Uh, six thirty. And just yourself.”
Six thirty was early for dinner. Why so early? I frowned. “I don’t know if I’ll have finished work by then.”
George snorted again. “Babe, you’re not a heart surgeon. You plan parties, for Pete’s sake. I’m pretty sure if I can be here by six thirty, you can.”
I sucked in a breath as his words ignited my anger and the urge to tell him to go screw himself . . . but that infuriating piece of me that hated confrontation squeezed its fist around my throat.
“Hallie, you still there?”
“Yes,” I bit out. “I’ll try to be there at six thirty.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you at seven thirty,” he cracked. “Night, babe.”
My apartment grew silent as George hung up and I stared at my phone, taking a couple of deep breaths to cool my annoyance. Lately, my boyfriend had gotten more and more patronizing. I wanted to believe he had the best intentions and that he was only teasing. But if he didn’t have the best intentions and he was just kind of . . . well . . . an asshole . . . then I’d have to break up with him.
I made a coffee and pulled my laptop out of my purse, my stomach seesawing at the thought of breaking things off. I’d been dating since I was fifteen years old, and I’d only ever had to break up with two boyfriends in the past thirteen years. The rest had either broken up with me or ghosted me. Still, the thought of having to break things off with George made me anxious.
Maybe I didn’t have to break up with him, I thought, as I sat down at my desk and flipped open my laptop. Maybe I could just tell him I found some of his teasing derogatory and he should do better not to be such a freaking tool.
Suddenly my cell chimed behind me on the counter and then chimed again and again and again.
“What the . . .” I turned to grab the phone, some kind of sixth sense making me dread the sight of the notification banners from my social media apps. Tapping one—
“Oh my God.” Nothing could have prepared me for the video someone had tagged me in.
The video someone had tagged my mother in for her prominent role.
I’d totally forgotten she was attending my aunt Julia’s bachelorette party tonight. In typical Aunt Julia fashion, she’d forced everyone out on a weeknight to avoid the weekend crowds. Aunt Julia was my mom’s best friend from high school and had been terminally single for most of my life. Then, three years ago, she met Hopper. He was a couple of years younger than her, divorced with three grown kids, and he and Aunt Julia fell madly in love after meeting in a supermarket, of all places. Now they were finally getting married, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
However, my mom, who’d been divorced from my dad for less than two years and had to watch him move on to a younger woman, was in a fragile place right now. So I could be mad at Aunt Julia for allowing my vulnerable, postdivorce mom to get recorded at the bachelorette party giving a male stripper a lap dance while sucking the banana he held in his hand.
Yup.
My mother, ladies and gentleman.
I shuddered.
Noticing all the shares on the video, I came out of the app and slammed my phone down on my desk. Part of me wanted to race out of my apartment, jump in a cab, find my mom, and drag her out of whatever strip club in Newark they were in.
Yet there were only so many times that I could rescue my mom and dad from themselves. This was their new reality postdivorce, and I needed to let go. Maybe if I didn’t have a pile of work to get through, I might run after my mom.
Who would undoubtedly find the online video mortifying once she sobered up.
Sighing, I grabbed my phone and called my aunt. To my shock, she answered. The pounding music from the club they were in slammed down the line.
“Hey, doll face!” Aunt Julia yelled. “I’ve changed my mind and you’re allowed to come! Do you want the address?”
Aunt Julia had decided she wanted a bachelorette party that allowed her to do whatever the hell she liked without feeling weird in front of me or any of her friends’ grown kids. I was relieved to be left out of the invitation.
“No,” I replied loudly, “I’m calling because that video of Mom is all over social media!”
“What video?”
“The lap dance! The banana!”
“Oh shit,” she cackled. “You’re kidding? Okay,” she yelled even louder, “Who put the video of Maggie online?”
Realizing she was talking to her friends, I stayed silent.
“Jenna, you creep!” Aunt Julia yelled good-naturedly. “Take it down!”
“It’s not funny, AJ!” I called her by the nickname I’d given her as a child.
“Oh, it’s kind of funny, honey, if you’re anyone but her daughter!”
“Just make sure she doesn’t do anything else lewd that ends up online. Have a good night!” I ended the call before she could reply.
It was clear they were all drunk. Aunt Julia was usually on my side when it came to calming Mom in any postdivorce antics—I’d never had to worry about my mother in any way until her marriage fell apart and she started acting unpredictably.
