Set in a seaside town in Italy, As Long as It Takes is a charming summer romance about finding your roots and letting love blossom.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from As Long as It Takes by Jill Francis, which releases on July 21st 2026.
Love isn’t exactly a priority for Lora Brooks. After all, her last break-up made it perfectly clear that she can’t rely on anyone but herself. That’s why Lora’s number one focus is her research, where she’s hard at work debunking Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. But when she’s offered a prestigious post-doctoral position in Zurich—one whose funding hinges on her having European citizenship—everything changes.
Hoping to claim citizenship through her birth father, Lora and her best friend travel to the quaint Italian town where he was born. She knows little about her father (and intends to keep it that way) but nothing, not even the ghosts of her past, will stand between Lora and this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Except, perhaps, Italian bureaucracy. And an outdated filing system. And Andrea, the handsome—and slightly anxious—mayor.
Andrea’s plate may be more than full, but in between trying to increase tourism, wrangling quirky business-owners, and debating whether to run for a second term, he somehow finds the time to show Lora what it really means to live, and perhaps love, like a local. Lora is destined for a future hundreds of miles away and Andrea’s parents are pushing him to return to his fast-paced life in New York, but will they discover that their most basic need is actually just…each other?
Chapter 1
LORA WOULD HAVE PAID BETTER ATTENTION TO VILMARI’S explanation of the ingredients in a Hugo Spritz, but she was too focused on attempting to parallel park, with the help of RuPaul, on the steepest street she had ever seen. Living in New York City for the past decade, she had found herself in the driver’s seat fewer times than were necessary to master the task at hand—let alone in a rental car with a stick shift. But there was that video of Ru on the internet somewhere in a classic convertible explaining how easy it was to parallel park once you measured up to the—what was it? PSL? No, not the latte. The PSD. All she had to do was make sure the seam of the Passenger-Side Door was lined up with the bumper, then reverse at an angle, and she should be nestled in that spot like it had written her an invitation. At least according to RuPaul.
“It sounds so good, don’t you think? You know how much I love elderflower. Remember my St. Germain thing two summers ago? This is the first drink I’m ordering.” Vilmari swiped away her Pinterest board, then paused to glance out the window of the tiny Fiat 500, where a stone wall was the only thing visible. “If there is anywhere to order it.”
“I think we’re not quite in the town yet,” said Lora, glancing at the rearview mirror on the passenger’s side. She flicked her eyes forward to the car in front, which was another Fiat
500, identical to the one she was driving. How hard could this be if that person managed it? she thought as she eased her foot off the clutch and unfortunately felt the car roll back and straight out of the perfect PSD position. Sweat bloomed on her forehead as she contemplated the utility of taking parking advice from someone who also likely thought that both mastering winged eyeliner and walking in eight-inch platforms were child’s play. “Also, it’s only 12:30? Maybe we should get settled before we spritz anything.”
“It’s 12:30 here, but it’s 7:30 in New York. My body’s already on cocktail hour. You got this, Mami?” Vilmari peered over her massive Chanel sunglasses. “I’m sure we can find a parking lot somewhere.”
“No, no,” Lora said, gripping the steering wheel with her left hand. She reached down into the middle of the seats and wrapped her right hand around the parking brake, pressed the button with her thumb and jerked it up, holding on tight. Instead of emulating the elegant RuPaul maneuvering her Mercedes around Bel Air, Lora was going to have to resort to calling up her South Florida roots, where she learned how to yank a 4×4 out of a mud pit in pitch darkness with Tim McGraw on the stereo. She blew out a breath between pursed lips, centering herself. “I got it. I got iiit . . .” She trailed off, sliding her foot off the brake and pressing the clutch while easing the hand brake down. The Fiat rolled forward with a purr; then she cut the wheel and settled into the spot, bumping the back tire gently against the curb.
“Holy crap, that was insane. You nailed it. We have to celebrate!”
“Hold the balloons, Mar. We’ve got a lot more hurdles to get through before we start celebrating anything.”
“We made it here from Milan without getting lost once with a fourteen percent charge on my phone, and even figured out how to pay tolls in Italian. I’m feeling festive!” Vilmari grinned, her shoulders squeezed up to her ears. “Should we grab the bags? Let me GPS the B and B. What’s it called again?”
“Casa Coo-coo Zolo? I think that’s how you say it. But I want to head right to city hall first. Baia Santa looked pretty small on the map, so I think we can take the bags with us now and figure out where everything is later. What do you think?” Lora popped her door open and stepped out into the June heat. It wasn’t sweltering, but hot enough to let her know that August would likely come with fangs. The landscape was on the edge of arid, with short, scrubby bushes lining the road and two tall maritime pines rising up to frame the view of a deep blue wedge of sea. The road was too high up for them to get a good view of the water, but seeing only a piece of it made Lora feel a zing of excitement. Yes, she was here to complete a task, but she was also on the Italian Riviera with her best friend on their last summer trip for—well, for the amount of time it would take her to complete a postdoc in Zurich and figure out whatever was coming next. If she could get her citizenship paperwork filed as soon as possible, there’d be plenty of time for a Spritz—Hugo or otherwise.
“I think I’m ready,” Vilmari said, swinging her tote bag onto her shoulder. “Let’s get this woman a country!”
“I already have a country. What I need is grant money.” Lora laughed as Vilmari ducked her head back into the car, then struggled to push her seat forward. “I already have a country. What I need is grant money.” Lora laughed as Vilmari ducked her head back into the car, then struggled to push her seat forward. Her suitcase was so huge they’d had to shove it in the back seat instead of the trunk, laying it down like a sleeping toddler. “I think we need to get you a stevedore. How is it that you always pack like you’re going to be at sea for six months?”
“Because my style contains multitudes,” she said, gesturing one arm toward the heavens. She clasped both hands around the handle and pulled hard.
From As Long As It Takes by Jill Francis Copyright © 2026 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
