Love Letters: A novella

By Sarah Ready

Enemies in life…in love by letter. For fans of You've Got Mail and The Shop Around the Corner a novella from romcom author Sarah Ready. 

 

Do you remember those stories where a lonely, single, yet surprisingly attractive woman finds a romantic letter and starts writing a hunky man from the past, only to fall in love?

 

Yeah. That's not this story.

 

Believe me. I spend my days archiving stunningly romantic three hundred year old love letters. If it could happen to anyone, it would be me.

 

But these archived letters have given me the basis for a list of true-love requirements. The man I fall for must be: sensitive, smart, love history, be kind to little old ladies and stray dogs alike, and…be the exact opposite of Corbin Ryan – lover of finance, efficiency, and crushing dreams.

 

Plenty of people, aka everyone, says my list is unrealistic. I may have agreed, except I'm holding a letter in my hand. I found it in a library book, written by a stranger, and he's everything I've ever said I wanted.

 

Unlike all the stories, he's real. The only trouble is, the more we write, the more I begin to question, can you really, truly fall in love with a man you've never met? And what happens when you finally write, P.S. Let's Meet.

 

Love Letters is a 10,000 word novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swift & Lewis Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jan 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781954007321

Book preview

1

The letter in the library book isn’t addressed to me. In fact, it isn’t addressed to anyone. I look around Bryant Park, at the mom and daughter arguing over cappuccinos, at the couple kissing in the grass, at the families lined up to buy tickets for the carousel, and I wonder—is this a joke? Did one of the strangers nearby write it and slip it into the book, just before I grabbed it from the bookshelf?

Are they watching me now?

I stare at the crowd of people rushing by on the sidewalk, at the pigeons wandering close to my table hoping to snag a bite of my panini, at the bus chugging slumberously past.

No one’s paying any attention to me.

I run my hand over the paper, it’s just common printer paper, nothing special or unique. But the letter’s handwritten, using a fine-tipped, archival ink pen, and the writing, the words, I touch them and it’s like I can feel him through the page.

A taxi horn honks. I jump and pull my hand from the paper. There’s only one thing to do. I call my friend Chandra.

What? Are they out of paninis?

No. No, listen, My voice is urgent, my heart thumps in time to the dotted I’s and the crossed T’s. Remember how you always said I’m too picky? That there isn’t a single man in the universe who can meet my list of requirements? Well, I found him. I don’t know how, but I found him at that little outdoor library in Bryant Park. You won’t believe it. I mean, you will, because I’m telling you, but there’s actually a guy out there who’s everything I ever said I wanted.

Holy crap. Is he there right now?

I look around, trying to find the man who wrote this letter and left it in a library book. Umm. No.

Okay. So he left. But did you get his number?

Err, no?

Hannah! Are you kidding? You met the man of your unrealistic dreams and you didn’t get his number?

Well, it’s complicated.

Fine. Where’s he from? Does he live in the city?

I don’t know.

Okay, she sounds discouraged. What’s his name?

I don’t know that either.

I look at the letter. It’s signed, I miss you, J. So, I have an initial.

Seriously? Fine, what does he look like?

I don’t know.

Holy unbelievable. Please tell me that after he checked all the boxes on your true love list you can at least can find him again?

Umm…

Hannah?

I imagine Chandra pacing back and forth in our office, avoiding the stacked archive boxes, and getting worked up, which is her favorite state.

Okay, so this is going to sound crazy—

It already sounds crazy.

But I got a book from the library cart in Bryant Park, and in it I found a letter.

I let the words hang meaningfully.

Oh no. No, no, no. Chandra knows exactly what this means. We work at a prominent historical society. I’ve spent the last year curating three centuries worth