A glittering, laugh-out-loud second chance romance that reminds us true love is sometimes the one thing you never planned on.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Lindsay Hameroff’s Never Planned On You, which is out February 18th 2025.
Ali Rubin has a reputation for spontaneity. Like that time she made a drunken bet in London that led to matching tattoos with a stranger. Her joie de vivre is one of her best qualities; she lives every day to the fullest and follows her dreams wherever they take her. And now, they’re taking her from her career as a chef in New York City back home to Baltimore, where she’s interning as a wedding planner.
Despite the occasional fantasy about her British tattoo twin, Ali never expected to see Graham again. So no one is more surprised than she is when he turns up in Baltimore, ordering a latte at her favorite cafe. When they reconnect during an enchanting evening together, Ali can’t help but wonder if Graham might be someone special.
At the same time, she’s desperate to succeed in her new career and prove that she isn’t the family flake. When she gets a job planning a high profile wedding at a historic hotel, it seems like things are finally falling into place. That is, until Graham turns out to be the groom.
Graham’s family owns the once-grand, now struggling Black-Eyed Susan, and he’s returned to Baltimore to help his grandmother get it back on its feet. He’s certain that hosting a wedding at the hotel is just the publicity boost it needs. Ali’s boss agrees, and promises Ali a full-time gig if the affair goes off without a hitch. Unfortunately, Ali and Graham can’t seem to ignore their rekindled chemistry, especially when it’s revealed that Graham and his fiancée are planning a marriage of convenience. Still, staying away from each other is the best thing they can do, since giving in to their growing feelings might cost them everything.
Because when it comes to love, all bets are off.
Chapter 2
The man in front of me freezes. My mouth goes drier than the Sahara as my heartbeat echoes in my ears. Then, slowly, he rotates his body, turning toward me. My jaw drops open as I stare up at a face I never
expected to see again.
It’s not that I haven’t thought about him over the years. No matter how many dudes you sleep with, it’s hard to forget about a guy when a permanent reminder of the night you spent together is literally branded on your skin. Especially when that reminder is a half-pig, half-unicorn that still scares the hell out of you every time you catch a glimpse of your post-shower reflection in the bathroom mirror. Eight years have done nothing to temper that jump scare.
No. I haven’t forgotten about him. In fact, I’ve thought about him so often that I’ve sometimes wondered if I’ve built him up in my memory. Maybe he wasn’t half as attractive as I remember. Maybe ninety percent of his appeal was his accent and that inexplicably charming cardigan. But the face staring back at me negates every lie I’ve told myself in the past decade.
I let myself stare. Gawk, even. My eyes drink in every feature. Pink, pouty lips. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of a well-shaped nose. Cornflower blue eyes, wide with disbelief behind those
same thick glasses I remember. Fuck, why are his glasses so sexy? Have I somehow gone my entire life not knowing I have a spectacles fetish?
“Ali?” he finally asks. His eyes have gone wide, but the hopeful tone of his voice conveys something more than surprise. Is it possible that he has thought about me too, that he’s wondered what might have been? Speechless for once, I simply nod.
“Sorry, did you say your name is Benedict?” the barista interrupts.
He shakes his head, the spell broken as he turns back to the register. “No, sorry, it’s actually—”
“Graham.” I finish for him.
Graham whips back around, the shock still evident in his face.
“What are you doing here?” he asks after a beat.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
“What are any of us doing here?” a voice says from behind us.
Now we both turn. Behind us, a short, balding man is giving us a death stare.
“Personally, I’m trying to get lunch, so if you’re not going to order anything, maybe you two could take this little reunion elsewhere.”
“Oh, right. Lunch.” I’m so disoriented that I’ve completely lost track of where I am, and what I’m doing here in the first place. Swiveling back to the counter, I order on autopilot. It’s the same lunch I’ve
had nearly every day this month: a pumpkin spice latte with a grilled gouda and apple sandwich.
“Pumpkin spice, huh? I guess everything they say about Americans is true.” We slide down to the other end of the counter to wait for our food.
“First of all, it’s September, which means it’s my prerogative—nay, my responsibility—to consume as many artificial gourd flavors as possible. And second, um, hi? Care to explain why you’ve gone so far out of your way for coffee?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I live here. My office is a few blocks away. I come here for lunch a few days a week. Now you’re all caught up. Your turn.”
Our orders slide across the countertop. Picking up our trays, Graham and I find a two-seater table close to the back of the restaurant. Once we’re settled, Graham takes a small sip of his coffee.
“I moved here about three months ago to help my grandmother with the family business. She and my grandfather managed it for over thirty years. After my grandfather passed away last November, it fell into a bit of financial trouble.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. I’m fortunate to be able to help her. My grandparents have done a lot for me over the years, and it feels good to give back.”
“I’m sure your grandmother is happy to accept the free expertise of her grandson, the London School of Economics alumni.”
Graham’s lips quirk. “Something like that.” He fixes his eyes on mine, and we stare at each other for a long moment, a current crackling in the air between us. My stomach cartwheels. I clear my throat,
dispelling the tension.
“Well, I’d love to catch up. Want to grab a drink tomorrow night? I know all the best spots in the city, so you really don’t want to pass up this opportunity.”
Graham feigns a look of horror. “A drink with you? Sounds dangerous.” His eyes drop to where my tattoo hides, and my skin ignites beneath the fabric.
I mask it with a laugh, reaching forward to give his forearm a good-natured shove.
“You’ll be fine. The post-cocktail belly button piercings are completely optional.”
Graham’s gaze shifts to my hand on his arm, and I watch as something indiscernible crosses his face. For a long, mortifying beat, I’m positive I’ve misread the situation. I double-check his left hand for
a ring. It’s bare. So why the hesitation? Am I misremembering the chemistry we had eight years ago? I mean, I’d been drinking that night, but I didn’t think I was that wasted.
A tangle of mixed emotion in my chest, I realize I’m desperate for him to say yes. Worse yet, I’m terrified he isn’t going to.
But then the darkness clouding his face passes, and he smiles.
“Sure,” he says warmly. “A drink sounds great.”
From Never Planned on You, by Lindsay Hameroff. Copyright © 2025 by the author, and reprinted with permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
