What We're Writing: Hank Gives A Sneak Peek at HER PERFECT LIFE

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Well, yikes. Will ya look at that cover? I have never seen such a gorgeous thing, and I will pause, now while you swoon.  (Thank you, designer Katie Klim!)

So. HER PERFECT LIFE is now in copy-edits, and at the proofreader, while I fuss and fidget and wonder what career-ending errors it includes.

This tiny tiny bit is NOT the beginning. It is not chapter two. More I cannot say. But it does give you main character (Lilly Atwood), her world, her conflict, and...several secrets to the entire story.

It doesn't come out until September 14, SO far away and so soon at the same time.  And that's why I feel fine about letting you read this snippet. By the time the book comes out, you'll have forgotten it. 

from HER PERECT LIFE

They’d gone through a rough patch, a few years ago, when Rowe had started asking about her father. Lily hadn’t been ready to discuss it, and, stalling, had successfully skirted the issue. But an insistently curious woman in the produce section of the grocery store had stolen Lily’s control over that.

 “And this must be Rowen,” the woman had said, reaching out to the little girl, almost touching her, until Lily had inched the shopping cart between them. 

 The woman—black yoga pants and a shabby-chic leather jacket, stylish crimped hair and careful lip gloss—had looked Rowen up and down, assessing. “I’ve heard all about you on Facebook, Rowen,” she said.

 She’d started digging into a black leather tote bag, and Lily had felt her own heart constrict when the woman pulled out a cell phone.

 “I love penguins, too. Do you and your mother visit them at the aquarium? Can I take a selfie with you two? Right here by all these beautiful apples?” 

 No no no, Lily thought. She never put Rowe’s photo on social media, not a recognizable one at least, but once used a shot from behind showing Ro’s sandy hair in a penguin-ribboned ponytail. BG loves penguins, Lily had captioned. She called Rowen “BG” online, for baby girl, and never used her name. How did this woman know it? Easy enough, Lily supposed. It was impossible to keep anything secret.

 Lily had wanted to yank the penguin ribbon out of Rowe’s hair, right there in front of the Granny Smiths and the Honeycrisps, and spin her cart away. But the public Lily had to be approachable, relatable, engaging. One wrong word in the Star Market and the internet could turn Lily from beloved icon to full-of-herself-bitch. Social media loved a falling star. 

 “Oh, I’m so flattered, thank you, but how about you and me? Just the two of us?” Lily had stopped the selfie train in its tracks. “But not my--” 

 “Of course,” the woman said, the warmth leaving her voice in just those two words. She stashed her phone away with an unnecessarily dramatic gesture. “Far be it from me to intrude on your precious--”

 “So kind of you, I so appreciate it,” Lily had said, as sincerely as she could, then turned her cart deliberately, telegraphing her intention to continue down the aisle. “Happy shopping!” 

 “Why do we never hear about Rowen’s father, Lily?” 

 In the beat of silence that followed, Rowen had curled a finger into a belt loop of Lily’s jeans, and tucked herself in behind her mother. Rowen, then not even four feet tall, had left no space between the two of them. 

 “Oh, gosh, I beg your pardon?” Lily tried not to react, tried not to grab a Granny Smith and lob it at the woman’s smug face. “I’m not sure why’d you’d ask me that?”

 “You media,” the woman had sneered, suddenly a viper. “You think you’re above it all.” She pivoted her cart, then pivoted it back. “Better ask your mother about him, Rowen,” she’d said. 

 And then, the wheels of her cart rattling, she bustled away. 

 “Attention shoppers,” a fuzzy voice on the public address system had boomed through the store. “In our famous cheese section right now, a demonstration of all the different kinds of Parmesan….” 

Rowen had not budged.

 Around them, shoppers pushed their rackety metal carts, a display of Meyer lemons tumbled to the ground as a toddler wailed, the fragrance of fresh cilantro and parsley, of ripening cantaloupes and pungent spring onions surrounding them, just another Saturday in the grocery. Except to Rowen and Lily, now side by side at a moment in their lives that Lily had planned for. She had. 

But not now, not today. Not in the grocery store.

 Rowen had asked of course, since about the time she’d turned four: Why don’t I have a daddy? And Lily had been ready for that. You do have a daddy, she’d assured the little girl, and I love him very much, but he lives far away, and I love you enough for both of us. That had satisfied Rowen; or seemed to. 

But then the grocery store viper struck. “Mumma?” the girl’s almost-green eyes had welled, widening, as they looked into Lily’s matching ones. 

Lily had stooped, dropping herself to Ro’s height. “What honey?” 

Lily knew Rowen would ask—her daughter was whipsmart, with a memory like a computer. Lily had learned not to make promises she couldn’t keep. And negotiation was less and less successful. 

"Why did the lady ask about my father?” Rowen whispered.

 Lily felt like bursting into tears. “Why do you think, honey?”

HANK: So, there you have it. HER PERFECT LIFE. And, you know, in that one half a scene is the whole book. I'm just not going to tell you the rest of it. You'll have to read it on your own. No pressure, you all. Just my career.

Please mark it as to-read on BookBub and Goodreads, okay? And sign up for my newsletter for a chance to get an advance review copy. Scroll up and look at that cover again! Whoa.

And darling reds and readers, cross every finger you've got. What do you think?