After I Do
Autor Taylor Jenkins Reiden Limba Engleză Paperback – 4 ian 2023
When Lauren and Ryan's marriage reaches the breaking point, they come up with an unconventional plan. They decide to take a year off in the hopes of finding a way to fall in love again. One year apart, and only one rule: they cannot contact each other. Aside from that, anything goes.
Lauren embarks on a journey of self-discovery, quickly finding that her friends and family have their own ideas about the meaning of marriage. These influences, as well as her own healing process and the challenges of living apart from Ryan, begin to change Lauren's ideas about monogamy and marriage. She starts to question: When you can have romance without loyalty and commitment without marriage, when love and lust are no longer tied together, what do you value? What are you willing to fight for?
This is a love story about what happens when the love fades. It's about staying in love, seizing love, forsaking love, and committing to love with everything you've got. And above all, After I Do is the story of a couple caught up in an old game-and searching for a new road to happily ever after.
| Toate formatele și edițiile | Preț | Express |
|---|---|---|
| Paperback (2) | 57.74 lei 3-5 săpt. | +10.33 lei 7-13 zile |
| Simon&Schuster – 4 ian 2023 | 57.74 lei 3-5 săpt. | +10.33 lei 7-13 zile |
| ATRIA – 23 sep 2015 | 96.78 lei 3-5 săpt. |
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781398516717
ISBN-10: 1398516716
Pagini: 352
Ilustrații: N-A
Dimensiuni: 130 x 198 x 21 mm
Greutate: 0.25 kg
Editura: Simon&Schuster
Colecția Simon & Schuster UK
ISBN-10: 1398516716
Pagini: 352
Ilustrații: N-A
Dimensiuni: 130 x 198 x 21 mm
Greutate: 0.25 kg
Editura: Simon&Schuster
Colecția Simon & Schuster UK
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Recenzii
Praise for Taylor Jenkins Reid
‘Spellbinding’ Emily Giffin
‘Full of raw human emotion’ Beth O’Leary
‘An entirely fresh and new perspective on what can happen after the "happily ever after”’ Jen Lancaster
‘The very best of Classic Hollywood intrigue, a delicious twist and incisive commentary on the wages of stardom’ Anne Helen Petersen
‘I can't remember the last time I read a book that was so fun’ Dolly Alderton
‘The characters were beautifully layered and complex... captured my heart’ Reese Witherspoon
‘Everyone should read this’ Claudia Winkleman
‘Dramatic, salacious and oh-so-romantic’ Woman & Home
‘Wildy addictive’ PopSugar
‘Glamour, ambition and shocking secrets’ People
‘Earth-shaking… you will flip for this epic love story’ Cosmopolitan
‘Heartwrenching’ Us Weekly
‘Reid masterfully grabs hold of the heartstrings and doesn't let go’ Publishers Weekly
‘No one does life and love better’ InStyle
‘Spellbinding’ Emily Giffin
‘Full of raw human emotion’ Beth O’Leary
‘An entirely fresh and new perspective on what can happen after the "happily ever after”’ Jen Lancaster
‘The very best of Classic Hollywood intrigue, a delicious twist and incisive commentary on the wages of stardom’ Anne Helen Petersen
‘I can't remember the last time I read a book that was so fun’ Dolly Alderton
‘The characters were beautifully layered and complex... captured my heart’ Reese Witherspoon
‘Everyone should read this’ Claudia Winkleman
‘Dramatic, salacious and oh-so-romantic’ Woman & Home
‘Wildy addictive’ PopSugar
‘Glamour, ambition and shocking secrets’ People
‘Earth-shaking… you will flip for this epic love story’ Cosmopolitan
‘Heartwrenching’ Us Weekly
‘Reid masterfully grabs hold of the heartstrings and doesn't let go’ Publishers Weekly
‘No one does life and love better’ InStyle
Descriere
From the New York Times bestselling author of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, comes a breath taking novel about modern marriage, the depth of family ties, and the year that one remarkable heroine spends exploring both.
Notă biografică
Taylor Jenkins Reid lives in Los Angeles and is the acclaimed author of Daisy Jones & the Six, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, One True Loves, Maybe in Another Life, After I Do, and Forever, Interrupted. To learn more, visit TaylorJenkinsReid.com.
Extras
After
I
Do
We are in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium, and once again, Ryan has forgotten where we left the car. I keep telling him that it’s in Lot C, but he doesn’t believe me.
“No,” he says, for the tenth time. “I specifically remember turning right when we got here, not left.”
It’s incredibly dark, the path in front of us lit only by lampposts featuring oversized baseballs. I looked at the sign when we parked.
“You remember wrong,” I say, my tone clipped and pissed-off. We’ve already been here too long, and I hate the chaos of Dodger Stadium. It’s a warm summer night, so I have that to be thankful for, but it’s ten P.M., and the rest of the fans are pouring out of the stands, the two of us fighting through a sea of blue and white jerseys. We’ve been at this for about twenty minutes.
“I don’t remember wrong,” he says, walking ahead and not even bothering to look back at me as he speaks. “You’re the one with the bad memory.”
“Oh, I see,” I say, mocking him. “Just because I lost my keys this morning, suddenly, I’m an idiot?”
He turns and looks at me; I use the moment to try to catch up to him. The parking lot is hilly and steep. I’m slow.
“Yeah, Lauren, that’s exactly what I said. I said you were an idiot.”
“I mean, you basically did. You said that you know what you’re talking about, like I don’t.”
“Just help me find the goddamn car so we can go home.”
I don’t respond. I simply follow him as he moves farther and farther away from Lot C. Why he wants to go home is a mystery to me. None of this will be any better at home. It hasn’t been for months.
He walks around in a long, wide circle, going up and down the hills of the Dodger Stadium parking lot. I follow close behind, waiting with him at the crosswalks, crossing at his pace. We don’t say anything. I think of how much I want to scream at him. I think of how I wanted to scream at him last night, too. I think of how much I’ll probably want to scream at him tomorrow. I can only imagine he’s thinking much of the same. And yet the air between us is perfectly still, uninterrupted by any of our thoughts. So often lately, our nights and weekends are full of tension, a tension that is only relieved by saying good-bye or good night.
After the initial rush of people leaving the parking lot, it becomes a lot easier to see where we are and where we parked.
“There it is,” Ryan says, not bothering to point for further edification. I turn my head to follow his gaze. There it is. Our small black Honda.
Right in Lot C.
I smile at him. It’s not a kind smile.
He smiles back. His isn’t kind, either.
We are in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium, and once again, Ryan has forgotten where we left the car. I keep telling him that it’s in Lot C, but he doesn’t believe me.
“No,” he says, for the tenth time. “I specifically remember turning right when we got here, not left.”
It’s incredibly dark, the path in front of us lit only by lampposts featuring oversized baseballs. I looked at the sign when we parked.
“You remember wrong,” I say, my tone clipped and pissed-off. We’ve already been here too long, and I hate the chaos of Dodger Stadium. It’s a warm summer night, so I have that to be thankful for, but it’s ten P.M., and the rest of the fans are pouring out of the stands, the two of us fighting through a sea of blue and white jerseys. We’ve been at this for about twenty minutes.
“I don’t remember wrong,” he says, walking ahead and not even bothering to look back at me as he speaks. “You’re the one with the bad memory.”
“Oh, I see,” I say, mocking him. “Just because I lost my keys this morning, suddenly, I’m an idiot?”
He turns and looks at me; I use the moment to try to catch up to him. The parking lot is hilly and steep. I’m slow.
“Yeah, Lauren, that’s exactly what I said. I said you were an idiot.”
“I mean, you basically did. You said that you know what you’re talking about, like I don’t.”
“Just help me find the goddamn car so we can go home.”
I don’t respond. I simply follow him as he moves farther and farther away from Lot C. Why he wants to go home is a mystery to me. None of this will be any better at home. It hasn’t been for months.
He walks around in a long, wide circle, going up and down the hills of the Dodger Stadium parking lot. I follow close behind, waiting with him at the crosswalks, crossing at his pace. We don’t say anything. I think of how much I want to scream at him. I think of how I wanted to scream at him last night, too. I think of how much I’ll probably want to scream at him tomorrow. I can only imagine he’s thinking much of the same. And yet the air between us is perfectly still, uninterrupted by any of our thoughts. So often lately, our nights and weekends are full of tension, a tension that is only relieved by saying good-bye or good night.
After the initial rush of people leaving the parking lot, it becomes a lot easier to see where we are and where we parked.
“There it is,” Ryan says, not bothering to point for further edification. I turn my head to follow his gaze. There it is. Our small black Honda.
Right in Lot C.
I smile at him. It’s not a kind smile.
He smiles back. His isn’t kind, either.