Emily Henry

BEACH READ

Contents

1: The House

2: The Funeral

3: The Pete-Cute

4: The Mouth

5: The Labradors

6: The Book Club

7: The Ride

8: The Bet

9: The Manuscript

10: The Interview

11: The Not Date

12: The Olive Garden

13: The Dream

14: The Rule

15: The Past

16: The Porch Furniture

17: The Dance

18: The Ex

19: The Beach

20: The Basement

21: The Cookout

22: The Trip

23: The Lake

24: The Book

25: The Letters

26: The Best Friend

27: The Rain

28: Nine Months Later

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Emily Henry studied creative writing at Hope College and the New York Center for Art & Media Studies, and now spends most of her time in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the part of Kentucky just beneath it. Beach Read is her debut adult novel.

What readers are saying about

Beach Read

‘When I say I want to read romance, this is what I mean. This book. This exact book’

Netgalley reviewer ★★★★★

‘The best book I’ve read this year so far, and easily a top 10 on my all-time favourites list. Emily Henry’s writing is masterful in Beach Read … Witty, interesting and utterly enjoyable’

Patricia, Netgalley ★★★★★

‘A delightful, romantic, amusing and well written tale … will have you smiling to the end. A wholly satisfying read’

Netgalley reviewer ★★★★★

‘I loved this book so damn much that I don’t even know where to begin. This book made me laugh, cry, and laugh-cry … I cannot recommend it enough’

Brooks, Netgalley ★★★★★

‘Exceptionally well written, incredibly authentic characters, deeply moving and entertaining’

Emer, Netgalley ★★★★★

‘Loved this book!’

Rachel, Netgalley ★★★★★

‘Romance at its very best. I was so invested in January and Gus and their literary journey to love. I can’t tell you how happy this book made me! Highly, HIGHLY recommend’

Kate, Netgalley ★★★★★

‘An absolutely brilliant, fresh and exciting book. With family drama, an excellent love interest and a great concept, it’s a clear winner’

Andrea, Netgalley ★★★★★

For Joey:

You are so perfectly my favorite person.

1

The House

I HAVE A FATAL flaw.

I like to think we all do. Or at least that makes it easier for me when I’m writing—building my heroines and heroes up around this one self-sabotaging trait, hinging everything that happens to them on a specific characteristic: the thing they learned to do to protect themselves and can’t let go of, even when it stops serving them.

Maybe, for example, you didn’t have much control over your life as a kid. So, to avoid disappointment, you learned never to ask yourself what you truly wanted. And it worked for a long time. Only now, upon realizing you didn’t get what you didn’t know you wanted, you’re barreling down the highway in a midlife-crisis-mobile with a suitcase full of cash and a man named Stan in your trunk.

Maybe your fatal flaw is that you don’t use turn signals.

Or maybe, like me, you’re a hopeless romantic. You just can’t stop telling yourself the story. The one about your own life, complete with melodramatic soundtrack and golden light lancing through car windows.

It started when I was twelve. My parents sat me down to tell me the news. Mom had gotten her first diagnosis—suspicious cells in her left breast—and she told me not to worry so many times I suspected I’d be grounded if she caught me at it. My mom was a do-er, a laugher, an optimist, not a worrier, but I could tell she was terrified, and so I was too, frozen on the couch, unsure how to say anything without making things worse.