{"product_id":"funny-you-should-ask-isbn-9780593357323","title":"Funny You Should Ask","description":"\u003cb\u003eNATIONAL BESTSELLER • A restless young journalist with big dreams interviews a Hollywood heartthrob—and reunites with him ten years later to discover exactly how he feels about her in this sexy and engrossing novel\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“You will absolutely devour this book. It’s filled with delightful banter, hot romance, and a love story that’s worthy of the big screen.”—Kate Spencer, author of \u003ci\u003eIn a New York Minute\u003c\/i\u003e and host of \u003ci\u003eForever35\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: \u003ci\u003eCosmopolitan, \u003c\/i\u003eNPR, \u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post, Book Riot\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThen.\u003c\/i\u003e Twenty-something writer Chani Horowitz is stuck. While her former MFA classmates are nabbing high-profile book deals, all she does is churn out puff pieces. Then she’s hired to write a profile of movie star Gabe Parker: her number one celebrity crush and the latest James Bond. All Chani wants to do is keep her cool and nail the piece. But what comes next proves to be life changing in ways she never saw coming, as the interview turns into a whirlwind weekend that has the tabloids buzzing—and Chani getting closer to Gabe than she had planned. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNow.\u003c\/i\u003e Ten years later, after a brutal divorce and a healthy dose of therapy, Chani is back in Los Angeles as a successful writer with the career of her dreams. Except that no matter what new essay collection or online editorial she’s promoting, someone always asks about The Profile. It always comes back to Gabe. So when his PR team requests that they reunite for a second interview, she wants to say no. She wants to pretend that she’s forgotten about the time they spent together. But the truth is that Chani wants to know if those seventy-two hours were as memorable to Gabe as they were to her. And so . . . she says yes. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlternating between their first meeting and their reunion a decade later, this deliciously irresistible novel will have you hanging on until the last word.“\u003ci\u003eFunny You Should Ask\u003c\/i\u003e is the kind of fascinating, intimate character study that feels like reading about real people. A breezy, addictive romance—I couldn’t put it down!”\u003cb\u003e—Rachel Lynn Solomon, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Ex Talk\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eFunny You Should Ask\u003c\/i\u003e is a smart, sensitive story full of love and longing—not to mention a totally swoonworthy hero. It’s also a page-turning peek into the celebrity machine. Framed by one infamous weekend and its fallout, the book goes beyond the glossy surface to thoughtfully tackle questions of perception versus reality, and which can hurt more: the limitations other people place on us, or the ones we place on ourselves.”\u003cb\u003e—Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan, bestselling authors of \u003ci\u003eThe Royal We \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThe Heir Affair\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Elissa Sussman’s adult debut promises a glamorous celeb romp, but offers a double-whammy with thoughtful, emotional depth. As the narrative jumps back and forth in time, the truth of what happened between Gabe and Chani unfolds and a romance blooms—cautious, sweet, and sizzling with tension. . . . A beautiful, fun, heartfelt love story that I couldn’t put down.”\u003cb\u003e—Maurene Goo, author of \u003ci\u003eSomewhere Only We Know\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sussman makes her adult fiction debut with a smart and sexy tale of second-chance love. The story thoroughly satisfies on a romantic level and packs an emotional punch with genuine characters.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Alternating between past and present, YA writer Sussman’s first novel for adults slowly lays out the events of her characters’ first meeting and how much has changed in the decade since. The result is a sexy, sometimes emotionally fraught tale that is both funny and romantic and that will appeal to fans of Sophie Kinsella.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Young adult author Elissa Sussman may be poised for a breakout hit with her first novel for adults, \u003ci\u003eFunny You Should Ask.\u003c\/i\u003e . . . Sussman’s smart writing and firm control over the narrative steadily lead you on to the next page, and the next page, and the page after that.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sussman’s thoughtful adult debut explores the connection forged between an insecure Los Angeles writer and a charming movie star. A decade after Chani Horowitz’s profile of Gabe Parker went viral, the two are reunited for another interview. . . . Sussman’s musings about fame, success, and the bonds between people elevate this fun and charming narrative. This has ALL THE MAKINGS OF A HIT.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eElissa Sussman\u003c\/b\u003e received her BA from Sarah Lawrence College and her MFA from Pacific University.\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003eShe is the author of three young adult novels\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e Funny You Should Ask \u003c\/i\u003eis her debut adult novel. Sussman lives in her hometown of Los Angeles with her husband and their two dogs, Basil and Mozzarella.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI arrived early and damp. The blue cotton blouse that had looked professional and flattering in my apartment mirror was now stuck to my armpits in dark, wet half-moons. Lifting my arms, I blasted the AC in my car, hoping both to dry my shirt and shock the nervousness out of my system.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d interviewed celebrities before.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d even interviewed supernaturally beautiful celebrities before.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis was different.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe Parker wasn’t just any celebrity. He was my number one, heart-fluttering, palm-sweating, thigh-clenching celebrity crush. I’d entertained multiple extensive, detailed fantasies about him. I’d done numerous searches for paparazzi pictures of him. Until this morning, a shirtless photo of him had been the lock screen of my phone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI had zero chill when it came to Gabe Parker.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf Jeremy and I were still dating, there’d be a major possibility he would have tried to veto this interview. He knew how I felt about Gabe. When he’d insisted on us declaring our “free pass” celebrities, I’d chosen Gabe. Jeremy had pouted.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was ridiculous, of course.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe would probably be charming and kind and amiable. It wouldn’t be because he liked me, or thought I was interesting, or because we had any sort of deep emotional connection. It would be because it was his job to charm me. And it was my job to be charmed. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis management had been very, very clear about the kind of profile they were expecting me to turn in. What they wanted in exchange for the access Broad Sheets was getting to Gabe before he started shooting.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey wanted a story that would counter the bad press his casting had caused. They wanted a story that would convince the naysayers that he was the best choice for Bond. They wanted me to sell him to America. To the world. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI wanted a story that would keep getting me work.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI blogged and sent short stories to literary magazines like I was tossing rocks into the ocean.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d only gotten one published, and then, just when I was considering that maybe I should give up trying to be a writer, I’d gotten the gig at Broad Sheets. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d been recommended by a former professor who had once called my writing “mainstream”—as much of an insult as one could get in an esteemed MFA program but apparently exactly what Broad Sheets was looking for. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeremy called the stuff I was doing “puff pieces,” but we’d still celebrated when I got the job—\u003cbr\u003espending a good chunk of my first paycheck on bottomless fries and happy hour beers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe editors at Broad Sheets seemed to like my writing—at least, they kept giving me work—and every month I could pay my bills with the money I made off my writing felt like an accomplishment.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI knew that this interview was an opportunity to show that I could take on more high-profile, better-paying articles. It needed to go well. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEven though I’d just checked it five minutes ago, I scanned my bag again to make sure that I had a pen, my notebook with the questions I’d written out last night, and my tape recorder, which had a new set of batteries. I was as prepared as I was going to be.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy armpits were now cold and wet. I realized, with horror, that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I’d put deodorant on. I gave myself a sniff, but couldn’t tell.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was too late now.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI glanced in the rearview mirror one last time, grateful that at least my bangs had chosen to be obedient.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe was staying in a rental house in Laurel Canyon. I’d expected something grand, with a massive gate and intense security system, but I’d been sent to a modest bungalow set back from the street with nothing more than an unlocked, waist-high gate to keep people out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut even though it was small, I knew the place had to cost at least four times more than the apartment I shared with one stranger and one half-friend.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI could feel my heart ricocheting up and down my throat as I walked through the gate and down the pathway. A heart attack or a panic attack or some other sort of attack seemed extremely likely.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“He’s just a person. He’s just a person,” I said to myself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e I lifted my hand, but before I could even knock, the door swung open and there he was.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe. Parker. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d done enough interviews like this to know firsthand the difference a camera and a crew could make in someone’s appearance. Actors were usually shorter than they appeared, their heads often bigger. Round cheeks could make someone look chubbier than they were, just as chiseled features could come off as gaunt in real life.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA part of me had been praying that Gabe Parker’s good looks were mostly manufactured.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was swiftly and immediately proven wrong. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe. Was. Glorious.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTall, knee-bucklingly handsome, and backlit by the best sunlight California could muster on a brisk winter day. His dark brown hair was mussed, a wavy lock flopped onto his forehead in a way that looked both boyish and rugged. He had a dimple in his left cheek—which I already knew about, but it was on full display as he greeted me with a smile that made my heart stop so abruptly that I put a hand to my chest. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was so beautiful.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was so f***ed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s you!” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs if he had been waiting for me. The truth was that I had been waiting for him. Literally. This interview had been scheduled and rescheduled several times already. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut none of that mattered now.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI felt fluttery. All over.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI didn’t like it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was deeply unprofessional and a complete cliché. The world already assumed that all female reporters slept with—or were trying to sleep with—their subjects. I was here to do my job, not get all hot and bothered over a sexy celebrity. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was enough to keep those tingly feelings at bay.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe was still blasting me with that full-force grin. It was so powerful that it took me at least ten seconds to realize he was holding a puppy in his arms. And I loved dogs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Can you take her for a moment?” he asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was apparently incapable of speech so I just nodded and held out my arms. His fingers brushed mine as the wiggling, furry bundle was passed over. My heart stopped again, and the tingly feelings returned.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDammit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt this rate, if he shook my hand, I was likely to pass out at his feet. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter giving me the dog, he turned and headed back into the house. The puppy shifted in my arms, craning her head so she could take a swipe at my chin with her soft, pink puppy tongue. I inhaled deeply, breathing in her puppy breath. Pure. Unfiltered. Good.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt stabilized me. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Come on in!” Gabe said from inside the house.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI followed his voice, taking in the beautiful rental with its wood-paneled walls and warm, cabin-like feel. The back of the house was open—glass sliding doors pushed to the side—and I could see a big, grassy lawn with a pool and hot tub. The rental itself had maybe two bedrooms, but the property was spacious. It was exactly the kind of Laurel Canyon home where you could easily imagine the Mamas and the Papas or Fleetwood Mac doing drugs, having sex, and making music during the seventies.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI walked into the kitchen and found Gabe on his hands and knees. Without a shirt on.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry,” he apologized, using his cotton T-shirt to wipe the floor. “I still have no idea where any of the rags are, and we’ve been having a hard time with house-training.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe looked up at me, and I realized I was holding the puppy in front of me like a shield. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eStanding, Gabe looked down at the pee-stained shirt in his hand and winced before tossing it in the trash. Then he came toward me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s okay,” he said to the dog. “I still love you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Unngh,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe took her from me, cuddling her against his bare chest. It was smooth and sleek—all those muscles perfectly defined—exactly how it looked on the big screen. Well. Not exactly. He was actually a little thinner than I had expected. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot that I minded.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe still looked good. Beyond good.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI laced my fingers behind my back to keep from reaching out and touching, but my imagination did not hesitate in envisioning how his skin might feel beneath my palms. Because if I was going to touch—even if it was just a fantasy—I was going to be putting my whole hands on him. Maybe my mouth too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf I had the time, there was a long list of my body parts interested in touching his body parts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was completely inappropriate, but it was just in my head. What harm could there be in that?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry about that,” Gabe apologized again.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe both stood there for a moment. He made no motion to indicate he was going to put a shirt on, and I wasn’t going to prompt him to do so. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs far as I was concerned, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to ogle one of the hottest up-and-coming stars of our time and I was going to ogle my brains out. Silently. Covertly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI knew I was justifying my unprofessional thoughts, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure I could help it. He was just so handsome and my pulse was racing like I was being chased.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300177793253,"sku":"NP9780593357323","price":17.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593357323.jpg?v=1767727801","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/funny-you-should-ask-isbn-9780593357323","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}