Ashley Poston
At a glance
A professor of literature finds herself caught up in a work of fiction…literally, from the New York Times bestselling author of The Seven Year Slip and The Dead Romantics.
Eileen Merriweather loves to get lost in a good happily-ever-after. The fictional kind, anyway. Because at least imaginary men don’t leave you at the altar. She feels safe in a book. At home. Which might be why she’s so set on going her annual book club retreat this year—she needs good friends, cheap wine, and grand romantic gestures—no matter what.
But when her car unexpectedly breaks down on the way, she finds herself stranded in a quaint town that feels like it’s right out of a novel…
Because it is.
This place can’t be real, and yet… she’s here, in Eloraton, the town of her favorite romance series, where the candy store’s honey taffy is always sweet, the local bar’s burgers are always a little burnt, and rain always comes in the afternoon. It feels like home. It’s perfect—and perfectly frozen, trapped in the late author’s last unfinished story.
Elsy is sure that’s why she must be here: to help bring the town to its storybook ending.
Except there is a character in Eloraton that she can’t place—a grumpy bookstore owner with mint-green eyes, an irritatingly sexy mouth and impeccable taste in novels. And he does not want her finishing this book.
Which is a problem because Elsy is beginning to think the town’s happily-ever-after might just be intertwined with her own.
"A romance lovers dream of a book. Whimsical, romantic and packed with charm, Ashley Poston is the queen of high concept love stories."
- Sophie Cousens, New York Times bestselling author of The Good Part
"Ashley Poston has done it again. I fell into these pages just as effortlessly as Eileen tumbles into Eloraton. Whimsical, emotional, and tender, A Novel Love Story is another enchanting romance from Poston."
- B.K. Borison, author of Business Casual
"This one goes out to all of the magical realism lovers out there. If you aren’t familiar with Ashley Poston, you should be."
- theSkimm
I was lost.
Not metaphorically—at least, I didn’t think so—but physically lost, hundreds of miles from home, in the middle of nowhere.
No cell service. An outdated map. A gas tank running on empty.
Oh, and I was alone.
When I started this road trip yesterday, before eight hours on the interstate and a pit stop at a dinosaur-themed hotel, and eight more hours today, I didn’t think I’d lose my way on the last leg of the journey. I was so close—the cabin where I’d be staying for the next week was within reach—but Google Maps kept glitch- ing as I drove my way through Rip Van Winkle country, until my phone screen was nothing more than beige land and my little blue dot roamed, without a road, in the middle of nowhere.
I’d taken the same road trip with my best friend for the last two years to the same cabin in Rhinebeck, New York, to meet the same people in our Super Smutty Book Club. I shouldn’t have gotten lost.
3/5 open door.
