You're Not the One (9781101558959)

Table of Contents

 

 

A PLUME BOOK

YOU'RE (NOT) THE ONE

Award-winning author ALEXANDRA POTTER was born in Yorkshire, England. Having lived in Los Angeles, Sydney, and London after university, she finally decided to settle where the sun is and now lives full-time in L.A. She has worked variously as a features editor and subeditor for women's magazines in the United Kingdom and now writes full-time. Please visit her website at
alexandrapotter.com
.

“This feel-good novel is a
Sliding Doors–
style romance.”

—
Glamour
UK

 

“Warm, funny, and hope for us all that there are such things as second chances.”

—
Company
(UK) 4-star review

 

“A quirky, hilarious read, sure to get you in touch with your younger self.”

—
Candis
(UK) Book-of-the-Month selection

“This novel has a satisfying ring to it, pulled happily along by the charm and honesty [of] both Charlottes.”

—
Daily Mirror
(UK)

 

“[A] fun, feel-good novel . . . an escapist treat.”

—Sainsbury's

 

 

“Unexpectedly charming . . .
Me and Mr. Darcy
offers a
Pride and Prejudice–
appropriate surprise . . . it turns out to be one of the wittier of this summer's offerings, not to mention sharp and sad in its observations about what spinsterhood, identity, and aging look like for women in 2007.”

—
Salon.com

 

“[
Me and Mr. Darcy
] takes the reader on an extended daydream with an appropriately pleasant ending.”

—
The Indianapolis Star

 

“Pure candy for the imagination . . . Ms. Potter has worked literary magic with the creation of
Me and Mr. Darcy
.”

—
CoffeeTimeRomance.com

 

 

“Nobody does it quite like Alexandra Potter.”

—
Daily Mail

 

“Feel-good fiction full of unexpected twists and turns.”

—
OK!

 

“Funny, romantic . . . tale about what might happen if all your wishes suddenly came true.”

—
Daily Mirror

 

“Fantastically funny.”

—
Elle

ALSO BY ALEXANDRA POTTER

PLUME

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0R L, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camber well Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

Published by Plume, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Originally published as
You're the One That I Don't Want
by Hodder and Stoughton, Great Britain.

 

First American Printing, December 2011

Copyright © Alexandra Potter, 2010

All rights reserved

 

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Potter, Alexandra.

[You're the one that I don't want]

You're (not) the one / Alexandra Potter.

p. cm.

Previously published in Great Britain as: You're the one that I don't want.

ISBN : 978-1-101-55895-9

I. Title. II. Title: You are the one.

PR6116.089Y69 2011

823'.93—dc22

2010031392

 

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

 

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T
he summer heat creates a shimmering haze, through which Venice appears like a Canaletto brought to life. The dome of Saint Mark's Cathedral rises above the pastel-colored buildings, with their peeling paint and time-weary elegance. Vaporetti buzz. Tourists throng. Among the crowds, children run in the square, scattering pigeons; men in sharp suits and designer shades sit smoking cigarettes; a guide with his umbrella talks history to a group of German tourists.

And two teenagers. They're weaving a lazy path across the cobbles, her arm wrapped round his denim hips, his arm slung loosely over her bare, freckled shoulder. She's eating an ice cream and laughing at some joke he's making as he puffs on his cigarette, waving his arms around and making silly faces.

That's me and Nathaniel. We just rolled out of bed an hour ago and are spending Sunday in Venice like we always spend our Sundays in Venice: drinking espresso, eating ice cream, and getting lost in the cat's cradle of alleyways that crisscross the maze of canals. I've been here the whole summer and I still get lost. Leaving the square, we turn a corner, and another, and another, until now we stumble across a market selling brightly colored Murano glass and Venetian masks.

“Hey, what about this one?”

I turn to see Nathaniel holding a mask up to his face. It's got huge pink feathers and is covered in gold sequins. He does an absurd exaggerated bow.

“It suits you,” I giggle.

“You making fun of me?” He pulls it from his face and frowns.

“You? Never!” I laugh in mock indignation as he tickles my nose with the feather.

“I thought I'd get it for my mom.” He puts it back and picks up another. This time it's a grotesque one with a long, hooked nose and beady eyes. “Or what about this?”

“No, the first one. Definitely.” I shudder.

“Sure?”

“Sure.” I try to mimic his American accent, but my Manchester burr makes me sound ridiculous and he laughs at my rubbish attempt.

“What would I do without you?” He grins. “Though I think we're gonna need to work on that American accent of yours.”