Josh and Hazel's guide to not dating

Review by New York Times Review

EVERYROMANCE novel isakind of fantasy, whether it features an impossibly wealthy duke or a cute guy who knows how to talk about his feelings. It can be escapist or aspirational, extravagantly hyperbolic or easily plausible, but it's still idealized. Every romance has a happy ending, after all. That's a narrative constraint and a defining characteristic of the genre; it's also a puzzle for an author to solve. Make your main characters too good or too perfect, and obstacles to their happy ending seem far-fetched. Make them too flawed, and maybe they don't deserve a happy ending. Here are five new romances that grapple with their protagonists' shortcomings and virtues - their worthiness of a happy ending - or at least leave their readers doing so after the final page. Tessa Dare's THE GOVERNESS GAME (Avon; paper, $7.99; ebook, $6.99) hinges on a classic obstacle to a happy ending: the hero who thinks himself unworthy of love. Like many romance heroes, Chase Reynaud, the future Duke of Belvoir, has cultivated the trauma of a youthful mistake into a grand unified theory of self-loathing. He has sworn off marriage and he's desperate to protect his two young wards - orphaned sisters - from his spiritual corruption. If only the girls would stop driving off their governesses! Enter Miss Alex Mountbatten, clock setter and amateur astronomer, who through a series of miscommunications is offered and accepts the job. Dare deftly navigates the entanglement between employer and employee. Besides, the real power in the household belongs not to Chase but to his obstinate wards, and he and Alex quickly become partners in their care. While the logic of Chase's reluctance to love falls apart on close inspection, it gives Alex cause to take the lead. She is sharp and smart and funny - the whole book is, actually: "When he spoke, his voice was so perilously deep it needed a fence and a warning signpost." And the younger of Chase's wards has an exquisitely droll fixation on convening funerals for her doll, a gambit with surprising emotional payoff. But the child care - and comethunting - never detract from the love story, instead giving it a vivid world in which to flourish. Alex and Chase are playful, intense and stubborn - their flaws make them a magical match, not perfect but perfect for each other. The prologue of Christina Lauren's josh and hazels GUIDE TO NOT DATING (Gallery Books; paper, $16; ebook, $8.99) begins with Hazel Bradford listing her flaws: She's broke, lazy, drinks too much at parties to avoid social awkwardness, always says the wrong thing at the wrong time. "In summary, I am superb at making an ass out of myself." Hazel doesn't see these traits as flaws, though, but as eccentricities, with habitual blackouts on the same level as painting her toenails different colors. When she sees Josh Im for the first time in seven years - in college she puked on his shoes at a party - she's sure this calm, thoughtful guy would never love a weirdo like her, so she decides they'll be best friends. Sure enough, they click, but even when Josh's caricaturishly evil girlfriend cheats on him, even though each thinks the other is the hottest person they've ever seen, they decide to be just friends. To get Josh over his breakup, and to enforce the just-friends facade, they start setting each other up on blind double dates. It's almost a kind of masochism to watch these outlandishly bad dates stack up, especially as Josh and Hazel keep making inadvertent eyes at each other. You're not meant to feel bad for the rotating third and fourth wheels. They're obviously bad matches for the real stars, who are also obviously falling in love. But the dates are too often dismissible because they're easy stereotypes. (A hemp-wearing, vegan yoga teacher fares particularly poorly.) We never go very deep, but the story skips along the surface, propelled by rom-com momentum and charm. Taking your book's inspiration from "Magic Mike XXL" provides a great opportunity (hot male strippers) but presents a challenge as well: The real heroine of "Magic Mike XXL" is not... whatever her name is, the photographer woman; it's everyone in the movie audience, in that each viewer is the object of the film's seductive attention. And a good deal of the movie's exuberant fun is watching the men strip, a decidedly visual art form. Luckily, Zoey Castile doesn't lean on narrating big dance numbers in STRIPPED (Kensington; paper, $15.95; ebook, $9.99), focusing instead on the white-hot connection between the stripper Zac Fallon and his upstairs neighbor, Robyn Flores. And Robyn, thank goodness, is a vast improvement on the milquetoast heroines of the "Magic Mike" franchise. She and Fallon are brought together by a laundry mix-up meet-cute with a star-spangled thong, and while there is the requisite squeamishness about dating a male stripper to be gotten over - perhaps less plausible since "Magic Mike" does exist in Robyn's universe - their chemistry is intense. The real obstacles to the romance are personal and psychological: Fallon's defensiveness against people's judgment of his profession, and Robyn's sense of drift in her own life. She's always late to work, sleeps poorly, flounders as her best friend's maid of honor. Is she depressed? Unfulfilled at work? Maybe all or none of the above. Most tantalizing is the half-explored theme of the pressure Robyn and many women feel to set and meet long-term goals in their careers and personal lives. Once the specter of that pressure is raised, you almost share Robyn's best friend's concern that things are moving too fast with Fallon, that their romance is a Band-Aid for her problems. But on the other hand, he's extremely attractive and extremely kind, so you mostly just want to hoot and holler and cheer them on. The marriage of convenience is a well-worn, well-loved trope in historical romance. But most historical romance takes place 200 years ago. Move the setting to 1965 Texas, as in the extremely charming FREE FALL (Penny Bright Publishing; paper, $12.99; ebook, $3.99), by Emma Barry and Genevieve Türner, and a shotgun wedding less than a decade before Roe v. Wade takes on a new valence - what other options might 19-year-old Vivy have had? Luckily, her one option, that of a rushed marriage to Dean Garland, the astronaut with whom she had a one-night stand, turns out to be pretty wonderful. (The space race setting is a treat, too.) The biggest challenge, at first, is enforced celibacy : After an accident while testing a spacesuit, the astronauts have been ordered to stay abstinent until their mission is over. Apparently being sexually frustrated is... less distracting than having sex? There's also the fact that Vivy's father is the defense contractor responsible for the defective suit - the suit Dean is about to debut in orbit. But for all the external obstacles, the real heart of this book is Vivy and Dean falling in love and learning how to be partners. Sure, they're drawn together by physical attraction, but what keeps them together isn't some enigmatic gravitational pull, it's their efforts to make the relationship work. Their flaws - she can be overbearing; he's reticent and emotionally repressed - and their desire to understand each other make for an emotionally rich portrait of love. It's the beautiful way two people can fit together, challenging and complementing each other at the same time. Scarlett Peckham's astonishingly good debut, the duke i TEMPTED (NYLA Publishing; paper, $14.99; ebook, $3.99), also features two people discovering how well they fit together, in a historical romance setting that's both more traditional and not at all. The Duke of Westmead seeks a wife for a marriage of convenience. He can give her anything other than love, as long as she gives him an heir and the privacy to seek his pleasure where he finds it - which is on his knees in an S&M dungeon. Poppy Cavendish isn't looking for love, or even a husband. She's a botanist hired by Westmead to decorate the ballroom where he plans to find his future wife. But he finds Poppy instead, and a contrived scandal soon forces their hands into marriage. Poppy finds in Westmead's library a book full of erotic illustrations, and what she sees in those pages sends her mind spinning with what it reveals of Westmead's desires - and her own. "She'd never thought to contemplate that the roles might be reversed. That a lady might be the one to make demands. That a man might want it so. Might delight in it. How intriguing." Intriguing, indeed, but also hardly a subject she can broach with her new husband. Their relationship isn't cold - it's downright blazing at the start, but Westmead's stranglehold on his desire leaves Poppy hurt and baffled, and their marriage settles into loneliness and longing. It also leads to anger on Poppy's part, which is refreshing to read. The whole book is a breath of fresh air, both a complex, layered story and a soaring romance with two very real people at its heart. Peckham evokes a wide arc of desire, fear, love, humor and sadness in Westmead and Poppy's marriage. And bravery, too - the bravery that comes from the person you love asking what you want, and meeting you there. JAIME GREEN, the Book Review's romance columnist, is a freelance writer and editor whose work has appeared in Buzzfeed, Popular Science, The Cut and Unbound Worlds.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 23, 2019]

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Review by Booklist Review

Hazel Bradford knows that she's awkward, tends to take her shirt off when she drinks too much, and has zero tact. Case in point: she first meets Josh Im at a college party when she vomits on his shoes. In college, Hazel worshiped him from afar, even sending him an embarrassing email while drugged up on painkillers after dental surgery. Ten years later, they meet at her best friend Emily's dinner party, where Hazel learns that Josh and Emily are brother and sister. It is there that Hazel makes it her life's mission to be Josh's best friend. Lauren (Love and Other Words, 2018) has penned a hilariously zany and heartfelt novel. From double blind dates gone all kinds of wrong to Hazel and Josh missing what is happening right before each others' eyes, this book will have readers laughing at Hazel's crass, inappropriate comments coupled with Josh's secret enjoyment of her just as she is. There's a twist in the usual romcom plot, and the story is sure to please readers looking for a fun-filled novel to escape everyday life with.--Erin Holt Copyright 2018 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In Lauren's hilarious standalone, hot mess Hazel Bradford and blueprint-perfect Josh Im are definitely, indisputably not dating. Hazel, extremely eccentric and lacking any filter, has more in common with the third graders she teaches than the exquisite genius Josh, a successful physical therapist. After a series of embarrassing encounters in college, Hazel is certain that she has proven to Josh that she's completely undatable, but, when they meet again seven years later, she hopes they can be friends. When it turns out Josh's girlfriend has been cheating on him, Hazel and Josh begin setting each other up on disastrous blind double-dates as an excuse to spend time together. Hazel is wild and unapologetic, and her yearning for love and family is perfectly blended with her refusal to settle for anyone who doesn't appreciate her quirks. Though the novel is predictable at times and full of convenient mishaps that throw the pair together, Lauren (Roomies) finds the perfect balance between charming moments and sultry episodes. Agent: Holly Root, Root Literary. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

This romantic comedy by best-selling duo Lauren (Christina Hobbs and Lauren Billings) is a laugh-out-loud listen that also delivers when it comes to more serious emotions. Best friends Josh and Hazel find themselves single at the same time and under-take a series of blind double dates to get themselves back into the game. Their relationship includes secret crushes, friends to lovers, and second chances with past lovers, yet their journey feels fresh. Hazel is a delightfully unique character, and Josh happily plays her straight man, making the odd situations they find themselves in even funnier. Their hilarious friends and relatives help center the characters and provide depth to their story. Narrators Jayme Mattler and Todd Haberkorn switch off based on whose point of view a chapter is told from, but each does such a good job at both protagonists' voices that the tandem effort elevates rather than detracts from the listening experience. VERDICT This novel is sure to be a hit; recommended for all public library collections.-Nicole Williams, New York © Copyright 2018. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Insisting that they're not a couple, two best friends try to help each other find love.Hazel Bradford and Josh Im first met in college, and it was not love at first sight. Seven years later, they're reunited when Hazel ends up teaching at Josh's sister's school. Josh is already in a relationship, and it's no surprise to Hazel that she's still single. Her high-energy quirkiness is not for everyone, and it's definitely not for a nice, normal guy like Joshor so she thinks. Despite their mutual attraction, they agree to be just friends. After Josh's relationship falls apart, Hazel takes him on a series of blind double dates to help them both get back in the game. Meanwhile, Hazel's apartment floods, and Josh agrees to take her in. The dateseight altogether, all of them badfly by in a blur of awkward conversations and uncomfortable reunions with exes. Really, they're excuses for Hazel and Josh to flirt without the risk. They're in love, but they're not ready to admit it just yet. Josh's mellow vibe balances Hazel's electric personality to great effect. "Does it make sense that I put my vases in the oven when it's not in use, so that my parrot doesn't knock them over?" she asks herself. "These are things other people might questionbut not Josh." Hazel thinks she's undatable, but Josh thinks she's hilarious, and she proves him right on each failed double date.With exuberant humor and unforgettable characters, this romantic comedy is a standout. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Chapter One: Hazel ONE HAZEL SEVEN YEARS LATER Anyone who knew me in college might be horrified to hear that I ended up employed as an elementary school teacher, responsible for educating our wide-eyed, sponge-brained youth, but in truth, I suspect I'm pretty great at it. For one, I'm not afraid of making a fool of myself. And two, I think there's something about the eight-year-old brain that just resonates with me on a spiritual level. Third grade is my sweet spot; eight-year-olds are a trip . After two years spent student-teaching fifth grade, I felt constantly sticky and harried. Another year in transitional kindergarten and I knew I didn't have the endurance for so much potty training. But third felt like the perfect balance of fart jokes without the sometimes-disastrous intentional farting, hugs from kids who think I'm the smartest person alive, and having enough authority to get everyone's attention simply by clapping my hands once. Unfortunately, today is the last day of school, and as I take down the many, many inspirational pages, calendars, sticker charts, and art masterpieces from my classroom walls, I register that this is also the last day I'm going to see this particular third grade classroom. A tiny ball of grief materializes in my throat. "You have Sad Hazel posture." I turn, surprised to find Emily Goldrich behind me. She's not only my best gal, she's also a teacher--though not here at Merion--and she looks tidy and recently showered because she's a week ahead of me into summer break. Em is also holding what I pray is a bag full of Thai takeout. I am hungry enough to eat the little jeweled apple clip in her hair. I look like a filthy mop head covered in the fading glitter eight-year-old Lucy Nguyen decided would be a fun last-day surprise. "I am, a little." I point around the room, at three out of four empty walls. "Though there's something cathartic about it, too." Emily and I met about nine months ago in an online political forum, where it was clear we were both childless because of all the time we spent there ranting into the void. We met up in person for venting over coffee and became immediate fast friends. Or, maybe more accurately, I decided she was amazing and invited her to coffee again and again until she agreed. The way Emily describes it: when I meet someone I love, I become an octopus and wind my tentacles around their heart, tighter and tighter until they can't deny they love me just the same. Emily works at Riverview teaching fifth (a true warrior among us), and when a position opened for a third grade teacher there, I sprinted down to the district with my application in hand. So desperate was I for the coveted spot in a top-ten school that only once I got out of my car and started the march up the steps to HR did I register that I was (1) braless and (2) still wearing my Homer Simpson slippers. No matter. I was properly attired for the interview two weeks later. And guess who got the job? I think it's me! (As in, it isn't confirmed but Emily is married to the principal so I'm pretty sure I'm in.) "Are you coming tonight?" Em's question pulls me out of the mental and physical war I'm waging with a particularly stubborn staple in the wall. "Tonight?" "Tonight." I glance at her patiently over my shoulder. "More clues." "My house." "More specific clues?" I've spent many a Friday night at Em's, playing Mexican Train dominoes with her and Dave and eating whatever meat Dave has grilled that night. She sighs and walks to my desk, retrieving a hammer from my dalmatian-print box of tools so I can more easily pry the metal from the plaster. "The barbecue ." "Right!" I brandish the hammer in victory. That little asshole staple is mine to destroy! (Or recycle responsibly.) "The work party." "It's not officially work. But a few of the cool teachers will be there, and you might want to meet them." I eye her with faint trepidation; we all remember Hazel Point Number Two. "You promise you'll monitor my booze intake?" For some reason, this makes her laugh, and it causes a silver pulse of anticipation to flash through my blood when she tells me, "You'll be just fine with the Riverview crowd." I get the sense Emily wasn't yanking my chain. I hear music all the way to the curb when I climb out of Giuseppe, my trusty 2009 Saturn. The music is by one of the Spanish singers that Dave loves, layered with the irregular sound of glass clinking, voices, and Dave's awesome braying laugh. My nose tells me he's grilling carne asada, which means that he's also making margaritas, which means I'll need to stay focused to keep my shirt on tonight. Wish me luck. With a deep, bracing breath, I do one more check of my outfit. I swear it's not a vanity thing; more often than not, something is unbuttoned, a hem is tucked into underwear, or I've got an important garment on inside out. This characteristic might explain, in part, why third graders feel so at home in my classroom. Emily and Dave's house is a late Victorian with a shock of independently minded ivy invading the side that leads to the backyard. A winding flower bed points the way to the gate; I follow it around to where the sound of music floats up and over the fence. Emily really went all out for this "Welcome, Summer!" barbecue. A garland of paper lanterns is strung over the walkway. Her sign even has the correct comma placement. Dinner parties at my apartment consist of paper plates, boxed wine, and the last three minutes before serving featuring me running around like a maniac because I burned the lasagna, insisting I DON'T NEED ANY HELP JUST SIT DOWN AND RELAX. I shouldn't really get into the comparison game with Emily, of all people. I love the woman but she makes the rest of us look like limp vegetation. She gardens, knits, reads at least a book a week, and has the enviable ability to eat like a frat boy without ever gaining weight. She also has Dave, who, aside from being my new boss (fingers crossed!), is progressive in an effortless way that makes me feel like he's a better feminist than I am. He's also almost seven feet tall (I measured him with uncooked spaghetti one night) and good-looking in an Are you sure he isn't a fireman? kind of way. I bet they have amazing sex. Emily shrieks my name, and a backyard full of my future friends turns to see why she's just shouted, "Get your rack over here!" But I'm immediately distracted by the sight of the yard tonight. The grass is the kind of green you'll only find in the Pacific Northwest. It rolls away from the stone path like an emerald carpet. The beds are full of hostas just starting to unfurl their leaves, and a massive oak stands in the center of it all, its branches heavy with tiny paper lanterns and stretched in a canopy of leaves protecting the guests from the last bit of fading sun. Emily waves me over and I smile at Dave--nodding like, Duh, Dave , when he holds up the margarita pitcher in question--and cross through a small group of people (maybe my new colleagues!) to the far end of the yard. "Hazel," Em calls, "come over here. Seriously," she says to the two women at her side, "you're going to love her so much." So, hey guess what? My first conversation with the third grade teachers at Riverview is about breasts, and this time I wasn't even the one to bring them up. I know! I wouldn't have expected that, either! Apparently Trin Beckman is the most senior teacher in our grade, and when Emily points to her breasts, I readily agree she's got a great rack. She seems to think they need to be in a better bra and then mentions something about three pencils I don't entirely catch. Allison Patel, my other third grade peer, is lamenting her A cups. Emily points to her own A's and frowns at my perky C's. "You win." "What does my trophy look like?" I ask. "A giant bronze cock?" The words are out before I can stop them. I swear my mouth and my brain are siblings who hate each other and give each other wedgies in the form of mortifying moments like this. Now it seems my brain has deserted me. Emily looks like a giant bird has just flown into her mouth. Allison looks like she's contemplating this all very seriously. We all startle when Trin bursts out laughing. "You were right, she is going to be fun." I exhale, and feel a tiny bolt of pride at this--especially when I realize she's drinking water. Trin isn't tickled by my lack of filter because she's already tipsy on one of Dave's killer margaritas; she's just cool with weirdos. My octopus tentacles twitch at my side. A shadow materializes at Emily's right but I'm distracted by the perfectly timed margarita Dave presses into my hand with a whispered, "Take it slow, H-Train," before disappearing again. My new boss is the best! "What's going on over here?" It's an unfamiliar male voice, and Emily answers, "We were just discussing how Hazel's boobs are better than all of ours." I look up from my drink to see whether I actually know the person currently studying my chest and... oh. Ohhhh. Dark eyes widen and quickly flicker away. A carved jaw twitches. My stomach turns over. It's him. Josh. Josh fucking Im . The blueprint for Perfect. He coughs out a husky breath. "I think I'll skip the boob talk." Somehow Josh is even better-looking than he was in college, all tanned and fit and with his flawlessly crafted features. He's ducking away in horror already but my brain takes this opportunity to give my mouth a revenge wedgie. "It's cool." I wave an extremely casual hand. "Josh has already seen my boobs." The party stops. Air stills. "I mean, not because he wanted to see them." My brain desperately tries to fix this. "They were forced on him." A wind chime rings mournfully in the distance. Birds stop flying midair and fall to their deaths. "Not forced, like, by me ," I say, and Emily groans in pain. "But like his roommate had me--" Josh puts a hand on my arm. "Hazel. Just... stop." Emily looks on, completely confused. "Wait. How do you guys know each other?" He answers without taking his eyes off me. "College." "Glory days, am I right?" I give him my best grin. With an expectant look tossed to each of us Trin asks, "Did you guys date ?" Josh pales. "Oh my God. Never. " Holy crap, I forgot how much I like this guy. That little sneak Dave Goldrich, principal, waits until I've had three margaritas before telling me I officially have the job as Riverview's newest third grade teacher. I'm pretty sure he does this to see what astounding response comes out of my mouth, so I hope he isn't disappointed with "Holy shit! Are you fucking with me?" He laughs. "I am not." "Do I already have a thick HR file?" "Not officially." Bending from somewhere up near the International Space Station, Dave drifts down to plant a kiss on the top of my head. "But you're not getting the favorite treatment, either. I separate work life from personal. You'll need to do the same." I pick up on the only thing that matters here. "I'm your favorite?" I bare my teeth, flashing my charming dimple. "I won't tell Emily if you won't." Dave laughs and makes a dramatic reach for my glass, but I evade him, leaning in to add, "About Josh. Is he a tea--?" "My sister didn't tell me you're joining the staff at Riverview." Josh must be part vampire because I swear he just materializes in empty spaces near warm bodies. I straighten, flapping at the air in front of my face and trying to clear the confusion. "Your sister ?" "My sister," he repeats slowly, "known to you as Emily Goldrich, known to our parents as Im Yujin." All of a sudden, it clicks. I've only ever known Em's married name. It never occurred to me that the beloved big brother--or oppa --I'm always hearing about is the very same Josh I barfed on all those years ago. Wow. Apparently this is the grown-up version of the metal-mouthed tween brother I've seen in the row of photos in Emily's living room. Well done, puberty. Turning, I yell over my shoulder, "Emily, your Korean name is Yujin?" She nods. "He's Jimin." I look at him like I'm seeing a new person in front of me. The two syllables of his name are like a sensual exhale, something I might say immediately preorgasm when words fail me. "That might be the hottest name I've ever heard." He blanches, like he's afraid I'm about to offer to have sex with him again, and I burst out laughing. I realize I should be mortified that Past Hazel was so dramatically inappropriate, but it's not like I'm that much better now, and regret isn't really my speed anyway. For the count of three quick breaths, Josh and I grin at each other in intense shared amusement. Our eyes are cartoon-spiral wild. But then his smile straightens as he seems to remember that I am ridiculous. "I promise to not proposition you at your sister's party," I tell him, pseudo-sotto voce. Josh mumbles an awkward "Thanks." Dave asks, "Hazel propositioned you?" Josh nods, holding eye contact with me for a couple more seconds before looking over to his brother-in-law--my new boss. "She did." "I did," I agree. "In college. Just before vomiting on his shoes. It was one of my more undatable moments." "She's had a few." Josh blinks down when his phone buzzes, pulling it out of his pocket. He reads a text with absolutely no reaction and then puts the phone away. There must be some male pheromone thing happening, because Dave has extracted something from this moment that I have not. "Bad news?" he asks, brows drawn, voice all low, like Josh is a sheet of fragile glass. Josh shrugs, expression even. A muscle ticks in his jaw and I resist reaching out and pressing it like I'm playing Simon . "Tabitha isn't going to make it up for the weekend." I feel my own jaw creak open. "There are real people named Tabitha?" Both men turn to look at me like they don't know what I mean. But come on. "I just--" I continue, haltingly. "Tabitha seems like what you'd name someone if you expect them to be really, really... evil. Like, living in a lair and hoarding spotted puppies." Dave clears his throat and lifts his glass to his mouth, drinking deeply. Josh stares at me. "Tabby is my girlfriend." "Tabby?" Swallowing back a strangled laugh, Dave puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Hazel. Shut up." "HR file?" I look up at his familiar face, all bearded and calm. It's dark out now, and he's backlit by a few strings of outdoor lights. "The party doesn't count," he assures me, "but you're a maniac. Ease Josh in a little." "I think the fact that I'm a maniac is partly why I'm your favorite." Dave nearly breaks, but he manages to turn and walk away before I can tell. I am now alone with Josh Im. He studies me like he's looking at something infectious through a microscope. "I always thought I caught you in... a phase." His left eyebrow makes a fancy arch. "Apparently you're just like this." "I feel like I have a lot to apologize for," I admit, "but I can't be sure I won't be constantly exasperating you, so maybe I'll just wait until we're elderly." Half of his mouth turns up. "I can say without question I've honestly never known anyone else like you." "So completely undatable?" "Something like that." Excerpted from Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating by Christina Lauren All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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