A young divorcee finds herself in the ideal world of her favourite 90s nostalgia TV show, in this second-chance romantic comedy from the author of This Spells Love.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Kate Robb’s Prime Time Romance, which is out September 3rd 2024.
Is love on the small screen better than the real thing?
Brynn’s happy ending has gone up in flames. She’s newly divorced and living with a roommate – Josh – to afford her mortgage. At least she’s got Carson’s Cove to binge – her beloved 90s teenage soap.
So when a birthday cake shows up on her and Josh’s doorstep, Brynn makes a wish for her own happily-ever-after.
The next morning, she doesn’t wake up in her apartment. She’s in Carson’s Cove… and Josh is there too. Except they’re not Brynn and Josh; they’re the sweetheart and the bad boy.
Will they stick to the script, or will real love change the story forever?
“Josh?
“Joshua?
“Joshua Brian Adam James . . . I don’t actually know your middle name. But that’s not really important right now. You have to wake up.”
I crack one eye open, then the other. The outline of the wild-haired woman looming above me brings a needed rush of relief.
I did it.
I finally woke up.
That was possibly the weirdest and most vivid dream I’ve ever had. For a little while there, I was starting to worry it was something else entirely.
I try to pull myself into a seated position, but as my abs contract, a sharp pain shoots through my rib cage, and I have to lie back down to catch my breath.
“Oh, thank god you’re alive.” Brynn’s arms squeeze my shoulders as she pins me down in a half hug, her dark hair falling onto my face.
“I didn’t think I hit you that hard, but you crumpled like a leaf, and I did take that CPR class once, but the only part I remember is ‘tongue, jaw lift, finger sweep,’ but I’m pretty sure that’s only for choking victims and—”
“Brynn!”
She pulls away, giving me enough space to take in my surroundings. The sky. The street. The giant hunk of bright-red metal pumping hot engine air out its front grille.
Any peace I may have been feeling a moment ago vanishes. I’m not at home, passed out on the couch, and Brynn isn’t trying to wake me up because I’m sleeping on top of the TV remote.
I’m still in the strange town, with no idea how I got here, and I’ve just been hit by a car.
“What the fudge is going on?”
Wait. What?
“What the fudge is going on?” I try again. “Why the fudge do I keep saying fudge?”
Brynn throws up her arms. “You can’t swear either. It’s not just me. That’s totally weird, right?”
It is weird.
Everything is weird.
“When did you get here?” I move my head tentatively, still unsure if I’ve actually injured anything.
“Just now. You jumped right out in front of my car,” she says, almost accusatory. “What were you doing just walking into the street without looking, and more importantly, what are you doing here?”
I have no idea.
I remember getting home from the bar last night, then that weird guy at the door, and after that, everything becomes fuzzy.
“I woke up in this strange bedroom,” I attempt to explain. “At first, I thought I might be dreaming, but it all seemed so real. It was in this old warehouse building. I walked down these steps, and there was a big room that looked like a bar underneath.”
What I don’t tell her is that, at that point, I was pretty sure I was in a nightmare.
I had them for months after my dad died. Panicked dreams where I was in his bar and I couldn’t get the taps to pour beer, and people kept demanding more and more, but I couldn’t make anything work.
This bar was different though.
“The place was empty. I actually wondered if maybe it was closed down. I was able to find the front door, and I started walking down the street. I was trying everything to wake myself up and . . .” I turn my head to the red Mini Cooper that hit me, its engine still running in the middle of the road. “Well, I guess I haven’t succeeded yet.”
Brynn reaches down her hand to help me up. I’m able to get to my feet this time. Nothing feels broken. I’m just a little dazed and bruised.
“I think I’ve figured out what’s going on.” She inclines her head toward the Mini’s passenger-side door. “It might be easier to show you rather than tell you.”
It takes a moment for my brain to catch up to what she’s proposing. She waits patiently until I finally process that we’re getting in the car, and I move to get in the passenger side. We both buckle up. I’m still uncertain of exactly what we’re doing as Brynn pulls a U-turn and then slows the car to a crawl as we drive back down the main street.
“There.” She points at a white brick building that reads PhaRmacy in etched gold letters on the front window. “That’s Doc Martin’s pharmacy. It’s where Fletcher Scott bought his first pack of condoms when he decided it was time to lose his virginity, but then got caught by Spencer’s dad. And that . . .” She points at what looks like a beauty parlor. “That’s the salon where Poppy Bensen went from a homely nobody to a gorgeous redheaded bombshell and then won the role of captain of the cheer squad over her nemesis, Luce Cho. And that”—she points at a painted banner hanging above us—“is announcing the seventy-fifth Ms. Lobsterfest pageant. There is only one place that I have ever heard of that has an annual beauty pageant called the Ms. Lobsterfest.”
I have so many questions, but Brynn doesn’t allow me to ask them.
“Finally, there.” She stops the car this time and rolls down her window so I have an unobstructed view of a white gazebo on a large patch of grass. “That’s the spot where Spencer said goodbye to Sloan because he was leaving for LA. It’s all here, Josh.”
Brynn holds up her hands as if she’s just presented an irrefutable case, but I’m still lost.
“So where are we?”
She pulls the car into a nearby parking spot and cuts the engine.
“We’re in Carson’s Cove.”
I hear her. I compute her words but am as equally confused as I was a moment ago.
“Carson’s Cove is a real place?”
She shakes her head. “No. I mean, it was supposed to be based on a coastal fishing town in Massachusetts, but it doesn’t actually exist.”
“Then how are we . . .” I can’t even compose my thoughts enough to string together a complete sentence, but Brynn nods as if she gets it.
“That’s the part I can’t figure out.”
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