We’ve Always Got New York
The second book in Jill Knapp’s fabulous series about dating in New York picks up after Amalia Hastings returns to Manhattan from her trip to Brazil – and finds that life has indeed gone on without her.Fresh off the plane, Amalia’s feeling anxious and unresolved; left alone to pick up the pieces and deal with the repercussions of choosing her own path over Michael.Without an apartment, without a job, and starting to wonder if she’s even without a best friend, she finds herself holding on tightly to the one thing she is familiar with, New York City.Sometimes you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be…
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HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014
Copyright © Jill Knapp 2014
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Jill Knapp asserts the moral right
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available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
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the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © November 2014
ISBN: 9780007594689
Version 2014-10-22
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
"Fall in love all over again. With men, Manhattan and yourself."
Shiri Appleby, actress, HBO's Girls
"A subtly addicting, fun, and fast-paced story about the realty of twenty-something dating in NYC."
Courtney Hamilton, author, Almost Royalty
"A fast-paced, roller-coaster ride through the giddy peaks and Death Valleys of dating in your twenties in the big city, looking for love, and finding yourself."
Phoebe Fox, author, The Break-Up Doctor
"For any woman who has ever chased love only to find themselves…this book is for you."
Mandy Hale, creator & author, The Single Woman
"…Knapp’s book combines love and life in a beautiful twist within the borders of one of the loudest, craziest cities in the world, New York City. But what's most interesting is how the characters find solace in the noise, find happiness in the chaos, and find love in the unique."
Kate Avino, The Huffington Post and CEO of Her Culture magazine
"What Happens To Men When They Move To Manhattan? is a fun and enjoyable read about a young woman in search of her happily ever after. Take it to the beach or snuggle up in bed and dig in.”
Emily Liebert, award-winning author, You Knew Me When and When We Fall
For my mom
“Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Contents
I could tell by the look on her face that she was expecting something from me. She was expecting something to be different. For me to be, in some way, changed.
I’m Amalia Hastings, and on August 20>th at 9:17 pm, I was home.
Home. The word seemed funny to me because I didn’t have a home to go back to. I moved out of my apartment right before leaving for Brazil and after my friend-with-benefits, Michael, showed up at my apartment, asking me to stay. I hadn’t thought it through properly; I just knew I didn’t want to live in that apartment anymore. Before my trip to Brazil I packed up what little stuff I owned and put it in storage for when I returned, assuming I would deal with it then. Well, “then” has become “now”. So for tonight I was staying with my best friend Cassandra. Who was currently waving at me.
I knew what she wanted. She wanted stories. Juicy ones that involved hot hookups on the sand. She wanted to see pictures. Pictures of the places I went, the food I ate, and the hot guys I met. She wanted me to run up to her in a sun dress, hair braided and skin tanned, and explain, no, to pontificate, to her how life-changing my trip was. She wanted me to playfully link her arm around mine and gush about how amazing it all was. How I was changed forever. That I had a new appreciation for life, food, and music. She wanted me to tell her that I would never be the same.
But this isn’t the movies and I’m not Julia Roberts.
The florescent lights above me flickered, making the airport look dark and ominous. I looked down at my hand as I pulled my rolling suitcase across the sticky, tiled floor. Not even my hand had acquired a tan. Three months in the Brazilian sun and my skin remained as pale as ever.
