The Ex-Vows by Jessica Joyce
Contemporary Romance
July 16, 2024- Berkley

About the Book

In THE EX VOWS, Georgia Woodward lives by her lists, none more so than the one about her ex, Eli Mora, the man who broke her heart five years ago. Her golden rule being that her and Eli cannot be alone together.

But all of Georgia’s rules are unceremoniously thrown out the window when a series of disasters causes their mutual best friend to lose his wedding venue. What’s worse, Eli has seemingly come back to town with a new rule-breaking attitude, because he offers to join Georgia in the romantic Napa Valley wine country to set up the new venue.

As Georgia and Eli rush to Napa Valley to pull off the perfect wedding, their old chemistry comes roaring back and Georgia will have to contend with spending one week alone with the man she fell in love with all those years before. Through cake tastings gone wrong, disastrous DJ auditions, and Eli’s heated attentions, Georgia starts recognizing the man Eli was before their relationship fell apart. And if she lets herself break her rules, she might find that what they’re building isn’t the something old that ruined them—it’s a chance at something new.

Excerpt

This wedding is cursed

“Not again,” I mutter.

To the untrained eye, this text probably looks like a joke, or the beginning of one of those chain emails our elders get duped into forwarding to twenty of their nearest and dearest, lest they inherit multigenerational bad luck.

In actuality, it’s been Adam’s mantra for the past eight months.

Adam is the brother I never had and I’m truly honored to be along for the ride on his wedding journey. But had sixth-grade Georgia anticipated I’d be fielding forty-seven daily texts from my more-unhinged-by-the-minute best friend, I would’ve thought twice about complimenting his Hannah Montana shirt the day we met.

My Spidey senses tingle with this text, though. It hasn’t been delivered in aggressive caps lock, nor is it accompanied by a chaotic menagerie of GIFs (my kingdom for a Michael Scott alternative). Whatever has happened now might actually be an emergency.

Then again, the wedding is ten days away. At this point, anything that isn’t objectively awesome is a disaster.

I pluck my phone off my desk, typing, What’s the damage?

A bubble immediately pops up, disappears, reappears, then stops again.

“Great sign.”

It’s nearly four p.m. on Wednesday, the day before my week-long PTO for the wedding starts, and I still have half a page of unchecked boxes on my to-do list, plus a detailed While I’m Away email to draft for my boss. I can’t leave Adam hanging in his moment of need, though. What kind of best woman would I be?

No better than the largely absent best man? comes the uncharitable punchline. I slam the door on that thought. It’s not like I’ve minded executing most of the best-people activities; it’s been a godsend for multiple reasons. It’s just so typical of him to-

I catch my own eye in the computer’s reflection, delivering a silent message with the downward slash of my dark eyebrows: Shut. Up. I’d rather think about curses than anything tangentially related to the subject of Eli Mora.

Not that I believe in curses at all.

Except . . . deep down, I do worry that Adam’s been hounded by bad vibes since he proposed to his fiancée, Grace Song, on New Year’s Eve. Their plans have involved a comedy of errors that have escalated from bummer to oh shit: the wrong wedding dress ordered by the bridal salon, names misspelled on their printed wedding invitations twice, and-the one that nearly got me to believe-their wedding planner quit three months ago because his Bernedoodle had amassed such a following on social media that he was making triple his salary as her manager.

For Adam, whose natural temperament hovers somewhere near live wire, it’s been a constant test of his sanity. Even Grace, who’s brutally chill, the perfect emotional foil for Adam, has been fraying.

But then, she would’ve been fine eloping. Every new disaster probably only further solidifies the urge to book it to Vegas.

Adam’s texts tumble over one another:

Georgia

Our fucking DJ

BROKE THEIR HIP

LINE DANCING AT A BACHELORETTE PARTY

IN NASHVILLE

I need to know what I’ve done in my 28 years on this dying earth that is causing this to happen

I start to type, but he beats me to it.

That was rhetorical, Woodward, DON’T

Clearly Adam’s shifting out of his panic fugue, so I shift into fix-it mode. It’s the reason he came to me out of everyone-he knows I’ll step up without hesitation.

Deep breath. Nothing’s burned to the ground, right? I text back. This is problematic but not fatal. We’ll come up with a new list.

The bubbles of doom pop up again and I wait. Again.

I wish I could say my eagerness to jump into this shitstorm is fully altruistic, but since I got back from a six-month work stint in Seattle three months ago, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Adam, all wedding-related. This has been the only way to reliably stay in his orbit.

For now, anyway.

Excerpted from The Ex Vows by Jessica Joyce Copyright © 2024 by Jessica Joyce. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Author

Jessica Joyce lives happily-ever-ongoing with her husband and son in the Bay Area. When she’s not writing character-driven, realistic and relatable tales of millennials who are just Doing Their Best while falling in love, you can find her listening to one of her dozens of chaotically curated Spotify playlists, trying out a new skincare face mask, crying over cute animal TikToks, or watching the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice. Learn more online at www.jessicajoycebooks.com.
Author photo credited to Jessica Joyce