Today we have the excerpt reveal of IN OTHER WORDS by Jennifer Woodhull! Check it out and grab your copy now!
Title: IN OTHER WORDS
Author: Jennifer Woodhull
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: April 30th
About IN OTHER WORDS
Dexter
We became close friends in college. When Sinclair
returns home to Dallas after two years in New York, I introduce her to my best
friend Cole. The good-looking playboy ballplayer is the perfect kind of guy for
the woman I'm sure would never be interested in me...even if seeing them
together breaks my heart.
Sinclair
He was the nerdy PhD candidate. I was the cheerleader.
We made unlikely friends. Moving back home after two years away, he looks
hotter than ever. When I start dating his ballplayer best friend, things get
complicated. He doesn't see me as girlfriend material...but I can't get him, or
my feelings for him, out of my head.
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Exclusive Excerpt
There are not enough words. I don’t mean that in a dramatic way as
if there are not enough words to express something with which I’m momentarily
frustrated. I mean there are often times when the optimum word for something
simply does not exist.
Fernweh is a German word that describes a feeling of homesickness for a
place you’ve never visited before. The Swedish word, lagom, describes
taking not too much nor too little, but just the right amount of something. To
wear or use something for the very first time is expressed in Spanish by the
word estrenar.
I love words more than anything. I love hearing someone
intelligent use the absolutely perfect, most fitting word at exactly the right
moment. I love anagrams, crossword puzzles, and riddles. I love how they make
me think about language and how people use it. Perhaps most of all though, I
love awful puns—even dad-level terrible ones. I only know one person who loves
language as much as I do, and he also happens to be the very person I can
hardly wait to see.
The Portuguese have a word for the sensation of nostalgia and
longing for someone who is far away. Saudade. That’s what I’ve been
experiencing since I moved to New York. I have saudade for Dexter Flynn,
but that’s about to come to an end.
*****
I walk into The Tipsy Alchemist, an upscale hipster place Dexter
chose to start our reunion evening. I visually scour the space, and am
disappointed when I don’t see him. I walk the length of the bar and just as I’m
about to turn and head back toward the front, a man leans in close behind me
and says, “Excuse me, miss, but might I buy your first libation of the
evening?”
I turn, ready to tell the guy to get lost so I can call the person
I want most in the world to see. When I turn around, though, I’m met with a
pair of sweet, soulful brown eyes hiding behind tortoiseshell frames. My heart
darts around my chest. I throw my arms around him so hard, I nearly send us
both tumbling to the floor.
“Dex!” I squeal, squeezing his neck. His arms wrap around me, and
they’re far stronger than I remember.
“It’s about time you came back,” he whispers into the side of my
neck as he squeezes me tightly. “I’ve missed you, Clair.”
I feel an instant wash of relief, being here in his arms. The feel
of his cheek against mine and the smell of his aftershave trigger an eruption
of happy memories. My brain floods with late night talks and board game
marathons. My circuits overload with shared stories and supporting each other
through tough times—with gushing over books and documentaries at the
independent theatre. He has been such a huge part of my life for so long, and
now, with him, I finally feel like I’m really home.
When we finally break from our embrace, we both realize we’re
standing in the highest traffic area of the bar, and the place is so packed we
might be physically in danger from rowdy patrons clamoring for beer.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand. “I reserved us a booth.”
He leads me through the trendy, dark-paneled space to the back
where tiny, high-walled booths, are situated. This area of the bar is quieter
than the rest, and the high walls of our booth offer some much-appreciated
privacy.
The booth to our immediate right houses what I can only assume is
a bachelorette party judging by the volume and frequency of the word woo,
coming from their direction.
When the server arrives, I order a cocktail, and Dex orders a
beer. “Miss, can I ask, the group of ladies in the booth next to us…is one of
them a bachelorette, by chance?” He smirks in my direction.
“Actually, yeah. Are they being too rowdy?”
“Not at all. I was just curious,” he replies. I snicker and he
winks in response.
“It’s a cool story, actually,” the server pauses to tell us more
detail. “She just got out of the military. She met her fiancé while they were
stationed together. He was injured, and she’s a nurse.” She puts her hand to
her chest. “They fell in love while he recovered in her hospital.”
Dex and I look at each other, and each make the universal face
that any red-blooded human with feelings makes when seeing a baby, or a puppy,
or hearing a sweet love story. “Aww,” we say in unison, laughing.
“Would you please take them a bottle of Dom Perignon and put it on
my tab? Anonymous, though, please…with thanks for her service, and her
fiancé’s,” Dex adds.
“Wow, that’s really nice of you! Absolutely, I’ll take care of
it,” the server replies.
When she walks out of Dexter’s line of sight, she catches my eye
and mouths the words, “Lucky you,” with a wink. It makes me smile
unreasonably wide.
Lucky me that such a kind, thoughtful, generous man is in my life
and cares so much for me. Lucky me that he’s my friend. Unlucky me that he’s
not more than just a friend.
“That was very generous of you,” I tell him.
“I had the good luck to meet an inventor whose work I really
admire once at a party. Knowing I was new to success, he told me, “I always
say, if you’ve got it, spread it around. Nobody likes a successful, stingy
asshole.” I’ve always tried to remember that,” he says with a shrug. We
toast to successful good guys.
“You look amazing, Sinclair.” Dex is grinning at me, his brown
eyes sparkling.
I reach across the table and take both his hands in mine, giving
them a squeeze. “You look amazing too. By the way,” I say, stifling a giggle.
“I didn’t know I’d need tickets.”
“Tickets? For…what, exactly?” He cocks an eyebrow up in question.
“The gun show,” I reply, pointing to what I can see is a
pronounced bicep on each arm.
His cheeks flush with crimson as he looks down and away. The
expression belongs to the shy, gangly guy I met in school, not the hunky,
successful entrepreneur sitting across from me.
“So, have you been hitting the gym, or did you invent some magical
neurotransmitter that passively enhances muscle tissue?” I tease. “Because if
you have, please sign me up as a test subject. Pilates is torture, but I like
to eat far too much to ever give it up without some sort of alternative.”
He chuckles. “I like to think of the fitness thing as my
transformation to Dexter two-dot-oh. I have to say, I don’t hate that my
efforts are producing noticeable results. I told you about my business partner
Cole, right?” He asks sheepishly.
“Your friend Cole, yes,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
I think he still has a little trouble wrapping the high school
part of his brain around being friends with a jock.
“Yeah. Anyway, since he pitches for the Frontiersmen he knows all
the best personal trainers. He convinced me to start working out with one he
recommended. I go to the gym almost every day now. Turns out I’m not as
unathletic as I thought I was.” He grins wide, pride evident on his face.
“You certainly seem like you’re feeling pretty good,” I reply. I
stand up enough to reach across and squeeze his bicep. “Yep, feeling pretty
darn good to me.”
He smiles, then he shakes his head and chuckles. “I really do feel
good…and even better now.” Something flashes briefly in his chocolate-brown
eyes, then he smirks. “I’m just so happy you’re back, Clair.”
Clair. No one but him calls me that. The way he says it is familiar and
makes me feel special that he has a nickname just for me. It’s the same way I
call him Dex. Those terms of endearment are just for us, like they’re
special words all our own.
By the time we finish the drinks the server brings over my stomach
is growling, so we head down the street to a Mexican place that has always been
one of my favorites.
As we walk the four or five blocks to the restaurant, a group of
girls walking the opposite direction toward us are all checking Dex out as they
pass. I turn to look over my shoulder and see them all looking back, whispering
and giggling. When I look over at him, he seems oblivious.
And this is why he has trouble finding the right girl. He has no clue when a woman is into him.
I bump his shoulder with mine.
“They were checking you out,” I say with a smirk.
“Who?”
“That group of girls that walked by. They were cute, too.”
He rolls his eyes.
“So, not seeing anyone?” I ask.
“Not at the moment.” He lets out a sigh. “Maybe I’m too picky.”
“Maybe you are,” I agree.
And that’s the other reason he can’t find the right girl. He has never fully explained the criteria with
me, but he seems never to have found a girl that checks all the boxes on the
list of Dex requirements for the perfect girl.
Someone as genuine and kind, as smart and as funny as Dex deserves
someone wonderful, though—someone who can see him for everything he is. I have
tried to resign myself to the fact that I’m not that girl in his eyes. I only
hope that one day he finds her, and she deserves him.
That brings me to another word that should exist, but doesn’t.
There should be a word for enjoying something you have, but still wishing it
was much, much more.
Enter Jennifer’s Giveaway
About the Author
We all need moments of escape. With all the demands on us day in and day out, we each need something just for ourselves. Perhaps nothing provides a private moment - a brief respite from every day - like escaping into a great story. When you pick up one of my books I hope you find that place that you can escape to. Explore the streets of Paris with new heroines or fly around the world to reclaim your lost love with a favorite hero. Whether it's the romance that takes your breath away or those climactic encounters that make your pulse race, I hope you find that solitary moment of enjoyment while lost in one of my stories.
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