ARC Review: An Ex For Christmas by Lauren Layne

Title: An Ex For Christmas

          (Love Unexpectedly)

Author: Lauren Layne

Release Date: November 7, 2017

Publisher: Random House _ Loveswept

Category: Contemporary Romance

Type: Digital

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Lauren Layne Website

Blurb:

When a psychic tells spunky, superstitious Kelly Byrne that she’s already met her true love, she becomes obsessed with the idea of tracking him down before Christmas. Kelly immediately writes up an “Ex List” and starts contacting old boyfriends to figure out which one is the one. When her college sweetheart rolls into town, Kelly convinces herself that they’re meant to be. The trouble is, sparks are flying with someone she’s never given a chance: her best friend, Mark.

Mark Blakely has watched the guys on Kelly’s list break her heart, and he’s not looking forward to watching them do it all over again. Mark’s always been there for her, but the timing’s never worked out for their relationship to be something more. Now, just as Mark is ready to move on, the sexual tension between them is suddenly off the charts. With Christmas morning around the corner, he just hopes Kelly will wake up and realize that everything she wants has been right in front of her all along.

Lauren Layne’s USA Today bestselling Love Unexpectedly series can be read in any order:
BLURRED LINES
GOOD GIRL
LOVE STORY
WALK OF SHAME
AN EX FOR CHRISTMAS

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Favorite Line(s):

I fall quiet as I think everything over, and Mark surprises me by turning on the radio. Surprises me even more when it’s Christmas music. I turn toward him and whisper, “I knew you were a closet fan.”

“Shut up.”  ~  Kelly & Mark

He was thirty-four and ready to settle down, I was twenty-four and still learning that shots on a Tuesday night are a bad decision.  ~  Kelly

Dialogue Highlight:

So instead I smile prettily and lower myself as gracefully to the ground as I can, considering my jeans are tight from too many holiday treats and my boots have a three-inch heel. A chunky heel, but still.

He blinks in surprise, and it’s almost worth the dirt I’m getting on my outfit.

I’ve called his bluff.

A gentleman would extend a hand and haul me to my feet, tell me he was just joking, and that of course he’ll cut down the tree for me. Mark’s a gentleman.

He hands me the saw.

Or not.

“Lie on your right side, scoot as much beneath the branches as you can.”

“You can’t be serious,” I mutter.

But I do as he says, giggling when Rigby bounds over and licks my face.

I start to pick up the saw, but my gloves make the process awkward, so I tug them off and shove them in my pocket.

A moment later my eyes widen in surprise when I feel a hard male body against my back. “Um, what are you doing?”

Instead of answering he reaches around me and maneuvers my hands as he wants them around the saw, then places the saw against the base of the trunk.

“Right there,” he says, his breath warm on my cheek.

For several horrifying, humiliating moments, I forget that this is Mark. I forget that it’s my best friend, the guy who’s seen me puke after a vicious case of food poisoning, the guy who I’ve sat side-by-side, in my ugliest sweats, watching Lord of the Rings (all of them) while eating nothing but cold pizza and way too much popcorn.

Sure, I’ve hugged him a million times, given him a smacking smooch on the lips at midnight on New Year’s Eve, and fallen asleep on his shoulder once or twice over the years.

But for whatever reason, this moment right here feels different. I feel his strength, his sheer bigness. He’s hard to my soft, big to my petite. Because, yes, he makes me feel petite, and that’s nice.

I tell myself the awareness is just because he’s so warm against my back compared to the cold ground beneath me. It’s the contrast of the two sensations—that’s all.

Then his hand closes over mine, maneuvering the saw a little higher on the trunk, and I nearly whimper. He too has removed his gloves, and his big palms are warm and strong on the backs of my much smaller hands.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice just a tiny bit raspy. “It’s not quite as thick higher up the trunk.”

Annnnnnd now we’re talking about thickness. And trunks.

My mouth is entirely dry, and my body . . . not so cold.

Get it together, Byrne.

I shift slightly under the guise of getting a better angle at the tree trunk, and not because I’m aching to arch backward toward his trunk.

No. No. No no no no, you did not just have that thought.

“I got this,”I say. I’m talking about both the tree cutting and the control over my hormones, and I hope like hell he only assumes the first.

Gripping the saw firmly with both hands, I drag it back and forth across the trunk.

Nothing happens. I don’t think I so much as scratch the bark.

“Harder,” Mark mutters, a trifle impatiently.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. For many reasons.

And then I do exactly what I need to get my brain back to friend-zone status. I shoot my elbow backward, jabbing him hard in the ribs. “Help.”

He grunts, though I’m sure I hurt his six-pack not at all. Then he slips his other arm around me, closing both his hands over mine.

It’s only the fact that Rigby’s wriggled under the branches to lick us both unromantically on the ears that keeps me from doing something idiotic, like rolling into his embrace.

Then Rigby bounds off to chase a bird or something, and I’m right back to where I don’t want to be—physically aware of my best friend.

“You want slow and steady strokes, not short and jerky,” Mark says.

I bite back a moan.

He demonstrates what he means, pushing the saw against the trunk and dragging it back and forth with patient rhythm. Sure enough, the teeth of the saw break the bark. Progress.

I put a little of my own effort into it, pleased when it seems like our joint efforts speed up the process slightly.

I focus on the motion of the saw, trying to keep my attention on the progress rather than Mark’s proximity.

When we’re a bit more than halfway through, he tells me to stop and releases the saw.

“But we’re almost done!” I protest.

“Exactly.” He rolls out from under the branches, then crouches down and offers me his hand.

I take it, letting him haul me out and to my feet. I bump against him a little bit awkwardly, my hands on his shoulders.

I risk a glance at his face, curious if the weird awareness is one-sided.

Excerpt:

I’m locking up the cabinets, my song selection now on to “Deck the Halls,” when a lower alto joins my fa-la-la-la. What it lacks in on-keyness it makes up for in enthusiasm.

I turn and see Jessica Trenton, first-grade teacher and work best friend, hopping up onto my desk.

There’s a pretty gold-wrapped present in her hand, a suitcase by the door. Jessica and her fiancé are both from Chicago and are heading home for the holidays.

“See? I told you your flight wouldn’t be canceled,” I tell her.

“Yeah, I had immense faith in your tea leaves,” she says.

“And yet they were right!” I gesture toward the window. “Rain, but not a snowflake in sight.”

“Fair point.” She hops up on my desk. “Are you aware that you have glitter on your tits?”

I glance down at my black sweater and gray slacks. Sure enough, Madison’s snowflake has left its mark.

“Third-grade hazards,” I say, swiping pointlessly at the glitter.

“I hear you. I found an open container of Elmer’s in my purse the other day.”

“You carry glue in your purse? Very badass.”

“I didn’t put it there. I don’t know which of the little monsters managed to get it into my bag, but my money’s on Hillary Garrett.”

“The sweet little redhead?”

“You’re just saying that because her dad’s hot. She’s beastly.”

“You love the tricky ones. And I thought her dad was gay.”

“He is. Still hot, though.” Jessica waggles her eyebrows. “But on to more important things. Are you going to open your gift now, or are you going to insist on being that weirdo that refuses to open gifts until Christmas morning?”

“I stand by my weirdo policy,” I say, pulling a forgotten jacket off the coatrack. “Opening presents before the actual day lessens the Christmas magic.”

“Or does it merely extend the season?” Jess taunts, picking up the shoebox-sized gift and shaking it enticingly at me.

I purse my lips. It’s not a terrible point. And I could really go for a present right now . . .

“Let’s ask Magic 8,”I proclaim.

She rolls her eyes but obligingly reaches behind her and pulls open the first drawer of my desk. Her hand emerges with a Magic 8 ball.

“Remind me,” she says, “How many of these do you have? Fifty?”

“Just three.”

“Three too many, Kell. Three too many.”

It’s an old argument, so I don’t bother to point out that it’s not too many—I need one for home and one for work, and the small one fits on my key chain for when I’m out and about. Obviously.

You never know when you’ll need fate’s assistance.

“All right, Magic 8, let’s hear it. Should our girl open her present now, or wait until Christmas morning?”

“Yes-or-no questions,” I remind her, setting the tiny peacoat next to my own so I remember to drop it off at the lost-and-found on my way out.

“Right, how could I forget all these strict, scientific rules? Should Kelly open her present before I leave for the airport, like a normal best friend?” she asks the Magic 8.

She shakes it, and I wait patiently, already knowing the answer.

Jessica wrinkles her nose at the answer. “No way.”

“Told you.” I pluck the ball out of her hand and place it back in the drawer, locking it. “And in case you’re wondering where your present is, it’s already in the mail. To your parents’ address. Not to be opened until Christmas Day, or Christmas Eve at the very earliest, because I’m nothing if not flexible.”

“Yes, so flexible,” she says, hopping off the desk and handing me the gift.

I set Madison’s snowflake carefully on top of Jessica’s present, then pull on the white J. Crew coat I got on clearance last year.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come home with me?” Jessica pleads as I lock my classroom door. “Erik can get you a ticket using his miles. And my parents are dying to meet you in person.”

I link arms with her. “You’re sweet and I appreciate it, but I promise I’m going to be fine.”

“You’re going to be spending Christmas alone,” Jess says gently. “You. The Christmas nut.”

“I know, but it’s just one year, and I’m actually kind of looking forward to it. For the first time ever, I can do Christmas my way.”

I know it’s going to be a great Christmas, because the Magic 8 Ball, home version, told me so. I don’t tell Jess this, though. She’s mostly tolerant of my superstitious nature, but she has her limits.

And really, don’t feel all bad for me on the Christmas-alone thing. I’m not an orphan, my parents don’t belong to a cult, and I’m not so tight on money I can’t afford to go back to California if I wanted to.

It’s like this: My parents, who are pretty much the perfect parents, got married on December 22 thirty years ago. Normally they keep their anniversary pretty low-key, not wanting it to interfere with holiday festivities, but this anniversary is number thirty for them, and I saved up many a meager teacher’s paycheck to send them on their bucket-list trip: a two-week Alaskan cruise over Christmas.

And I’d done the nonrefundable thing so that they couldn’t stay behind out of guilt.

So, yes, technically I’m spending Christmas without my family, but it’s not some sad Dickensian story up in here.

Review:

Kelly Byrne is crazy superstitious. Unwilling to make decisions for herself, the single school teacher makes her decisions by shaking the Magic 8 Ball. It hasn’t failed her, so why stop using it now? She checks horoscopes and is absolutely in love with the Christmas season. But this year she sends her parents on an Alaskan cruise so she’s going to be spending the season alone. Sure, she’ll have her best friend, Mark – but he is usually the unwilling participant; not to mention super busy with his restaurant. When a stranger tells Kelly that she has already met her forever guy, a plan quickly hatches to track down her ex-boyfriends. Mark is in no way approving of her plan, but keeps getting sucked in to her hair-brained schemes. And unexpectedly, she begins to think of Mark as more than a best-friend. Terrified of screwing up her friendship, she is hesitant to entertain the thoughts. When one thing leads to another, she knows it is only fleeting. Mark is never in a relationship long, so this has to be temporary. But what does a girl do when her forever guy starts to look like her best friend instead of a former boyfriend?

Mark Blakely is the freaking perfect guy. He’s been Kelly’s best friend since school and he’s watched the wrong guys come and go over and over, like a broken record – but he’s biding his time. He doesn’t want to ruin their friendship either, but he knows they’ll have their chance eventually. He just has to time things right. Kelly is single and so is he … again … so it’s time to fight for her and force her to see who has been there all along. She thinks he isn’t interested and that he is only wanting a fling, but she’s wrong. Her confounded scheme is wrong; that crazy lady who gave her the idea to track down her ex’s is wrong; her inability to see him as the one is wrong. He’s got to prove to her that he’s right … that he’s the only one there has even been. But first, he’s got to figure out how to make her superstitions work in his favor and he’s got a plan- but so does she. And Christmas is the perfect time to pull this miracle off.

I have to admit, when I read this blurb, I was expecting something different than the spectacular characters I encountered. My mind had come up with an expectation of the plot, but Ms. Layne crafted something completely different and gloriously beautiful. Best friends to lovers can go both ways, but this worked terrifically. Mark’s seriousness and Kelly’s quirky superstition blended wonderfully. Both of them complete opposites in many ways only made them that much better for one another – complimenting each other instead of highlighting their deficiencies. Kelly is a bit of a Christmas nut, and paired with her belief in the trusty Magic 8 Ball and horoscopes, she’s a bit much to take. But something about her whimsical behaviors makes her more adorable than crazy and Mark knows exactly how to handle her. Not to mention he’s a great cook with a successful restaurant – I mean if I had a list, that would be a major qualifying point for a perfect guy.

I can’t even think of a complaint with this book other than the lack of depth with the supporting characters. The secondary characters were mostly surface, but they helped bring in a bit of depth that kept the story from containing solely the main characters. As support, the secondary characters served their purpose. While a couple of the Ex’s weren’t too terrible, others were gross and chauvinistic – to the point where I wondered why Kelly even bothered. If one of them had been Mr. Right --- I shudder to think it. I mean Kelly and Mark are stubborn and it takes a bit for them to have a “real” conversation. But also, I think they were afraid to explore this new side to their relationship because the fear of loss if something went wrong was stronger than wanting to take the risk initially. For Mark and Kelly, being best friends before lovers was a terrific thing for them. While they still experienced second thoughts and doubts about taking their relationship up a notch, deep down they had a connection that many relationships lack. Their characters were endearing and their story alluring. You couldn’t help but root for them. Ultimately, I am glad I went with my initial instinct and reviewed this book. Despite the holiday theme, I feel like you could read this book at ay time of year and still find it enjoyable. And for those of you who adore Love Actually and watch it several times over the season without fail (myself included), you will appreciate the references within this story. I might even go so far as to calling this a favorite read for the season that I will bring out each year in the spirit of getting the holiday feel-good rolling. You can bet I will be reading more from Ms. Layne in the future.

Kindle version provided by Random House/NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.