Read An Excerpt From ‘Crazy To Leave You’ by Marilyn Simon Rothstein

From the author of Husbands and Other Sharp Objects comes a witty, bighearted novel about the happy accidents that lead to love and second chances.

Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Marilyn Simon Rothstein’s Crazy To Leave You, which is out May 24th 2022.

Forty-one years old, the last of her friends to marry, and down to a size 12, Lauren Leo is in her gown and about to tie the knot. There’s just one thing missing: the groom. With one blindsiding text, Lauren is unceremoniously dumped at the altar.

In the aftermath, her mother is an endless well of unsolicited advice (Stay on your diet and freeze your eggs). Her sisters only add to the Great Humiliation: one is planted on Lauren’s couch while the other is too perfect.

Picking her heart up off the floor, Lauren turns to her work in advertising as she gathers courage to move on and plan her next step. She should know by now that nothing in life goes according to plan. What lies ahead is the road to self-acceptance and at long last feeling worthy. With a new way to measure love and success, Lauren chucks her scale—and finds a second chance in the most unexpected place.

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Stephanie brewed and served coffee. I preferred ceramic mugs with messages, a function of being in advertising. If I hadn’t been into account service, I would have become a copywriter and created the ads. My sister passed me the mug that said, “Don’t worry. Be happy.” She pointed to the words. Happy about what?

Rob set out a bowl of fresh fruit, a platter of brownies.

“Those look good,” Stephanie said.

“So why haven’t you called us?” my dad asked, securing a wedge of melon.

“I guess I needed time to myself,” I said, which was the truth.

“No concern for other people,” my mother opined.

“Mom, give it a rest.” Stephanie glanced in my direction.

I changed the subject. “Your hair looks nice, Mom.” The truth was, her hair always looked the same, gray, short, cropped, stylish, as though she were the patient spouse of an aging politician from Arizona. Her green eyes grabbed all the attention. Her hair hardly mattered.

“Do you know how long I have been going to Sylvia?” Mom said.

“I don’t know how many years exactly,” Stephanie said, “but no one has been named Sylvia in at least five decades.”

“Please pass the brownies,” I said. I wanted. Coveted. Needed a brownie.

Mom touched her cheek like I had told her I was considering prostitution as a career path. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

My mother leaned back. “But there’s fruit.”

Stick the fruit up your ass.

“Besides, I can see those brownies are not so good.”

Mom had told me food was “not so good” since I was old enough to realize my sister’s skirt was half the width of mine.

“I’ll have one too,” my sister said in support of me. Nice, but her comment was irrelevant. My mother didn’t care if Stephanie had a brownie. Stephanie was thin—and married.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Pass the brownies. Or die, Mom.”