Do you watch a lot of rom coms? Are you just waiting for your very own Tom Hanks-esque character to walk into your life? Then Waiting For Tom Hanks should probably be at the top of your TBR.
The moment I saw the title of this book, I knew it was for me. I mean, who doesn’t love Tom Hanks in all those classic rom coms? Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail, The Money Pit, Joe Versus the Volcano are all classics, and a book heroine who is hoping for her very own rom com hero to walk into her life and make things better is the kind of girl I can relate with. If you add in that the heroine lives in Columbus, Ohio and dreams of writing movies, Kerry Winfrey has really hit all my most specific interest areas right on the head.
Waiting for Tom Hanks hits shelves and e-readers today, so check out the exclusive excerpt below, and once you’re completely infatuated with this story, make a quick dash to Amazon or your local bookstore to get your hands on this one. I mean, just take a glance at this cover:
All right, with no further ado, I present to you an extra special snippet from Waiting for Tom Hanks.
‘Waiting for Tom Hanks’ exclusive excerpt
I step into the café and wave to Chloe and Nick behind the counter, then grab the one open table by the window—Thursday is board-game night, and Monopoly aficionados have every other table pushed together. Nick loves it because they have to order seriously massive quantities of coffee to stay awake for such a boring game. I settle down and open up my Word doc, ready to write the guide to at-home hemorrhoid relief that will take the internet by storm. I type a few words and take in the comforting sounds of the café: Chloe berating Nick for putting on his Elliott Smith playlist (“It’s like a real bummer of a Wes Anderson movie scene in here, and that doesn’t make anyone buy lattes!”), the comforting hiss of the espresso machine, the chuckles of the Monopoly players. As much as I sometimes wish my life would change, or that something would happen, I have to admit that I do love these comforting sounds. I inhale the warm, rich coffee scent and think that if I could wrap up in this evening like a blanket, I would.
Since Chloe and Nick are distracted by yet another one of their sexual-tension-filled arguments, I take a moment to open up my screenplay. But when the bell above the door jingles, I quickly close the document and decide to return to a little guilty Drew Danforth research. Sure, reading about a celebrity is kinda pathetic, but at least it’s not vulnerable in the same way my writing is. Not that I think some random coffee drinker is going to care about my screenplay, but it still makes me feel naked and exposed to work on it here. Maybe if I was writing a blockbuster action film or a slick mystery, I wouldn’t feel like this, but this is a romance. This is a document full of my deepest desires and dreams, my beating heart contained behind the glare of a computer screen.
Drew Danforth’s face smiles at me from an article I just opened, and I grimace, then look up to see . . . Drew Danforth.
I do a double take as I watch him walk past my table and toward the counter.
“Hey man,” Nick says, clearly not recognizing him. “What can I get you?”
“A small black coffee, please,” Drew says, then glances into the bakery case beside the counter. “And, uh . . . one of those, I guess?”
“Oh! Those are my cherry almond bars, and—” Chloe’s friendly customer-pleasing smile melts off her face, replaced by sheer amazement. “Wait . . . you’re . . .”
Drew pulls off his beanie, sending droplets of water flying. “Nope. Not me. I just look a lot like him.”
Chloe ignores his words and grabs Nick’s arm. “Drew Danforth!” she squeals. Even the Monopoly players look up.
Nick looks at me and says, exasperated, “What’s going on?”
At this, Drew turns and sees me. His eyes light up with recognition, and his mouth quirks into that infuriating little smirk. I self-consciously pat at my hair, which the misty snow-rain outside turned into even more of a frizz ball than usual.
He walks toward me, the coffee shop floorboards creaking. “Coffee Girl!” he says easily. “In your natural habitat, I see.”
“Hello,” I say, lifting my chin and trying to appear confident. “Guy Who Just Looks Like Drew Danforth.”
He bites his lower lip. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Then he takes a glance at my laptop screen. I follow his eyes.
“Oh. No. Oh, no,” I say, hurriedly closing the gossip site about Drew.
“Were you . . .” he says slowly.
“Were you googling me?” He looks at me again, eyebrows raised.
“I wasn’t. I was . . .” I angrily click out of two more tabs with pictures of Drew. “I was . . .”
I stare at my screen in disbelief. How can this be happening?
“At-Home Hemorrhoid Relief,” Drew reads, leaning in as if to get a closer look at my screen.
“This is for work,” I say, snapping the laptop shut. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I don’t know.” Drew shrugs. “It seems pretty informative.”
“Black coffee,” Nick calls, and Drew turns around to grab his cup. Chloe hands him a paper bag containing his cherry almond bar and smiles so sweetly that I start to think she’s going to curtsy.
“Have a good night,” Drew says to Nick and Chloe as he heads toward the door. Right before he opens it, he meets my eyes and says, “Good luck with your work. I think it’s gonna help a lot of people.”
Are you as smitten as I am? Good. ‘Cause I think this is one I’m going to want to read again and again.
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