Overview
A burned-out screenwriter runs away from it all and meets a fellow movie lover who also has no desire to be found in this radiant, soul-hugging new escape from Emily Henry.
Beckett Heyburn loves classic romantic films. You know, the kind with sweeping kisses on the backs of trains, couples dancing in the rain, and those iconic lines you remember even after you forget what movie they’re from. She’s always wanted to write one—one of those lines and one of those films—and though she is a moderately successful screenwriter, not a single project of hers has ever come close.
Her mentor Perdita says it’s because Beckett has never experienced a true goodbye. Actually, Perdita says a lot of things. That Beckett should live boldly, collect regrets, always pack a few purse canapes when leaving a party, and when in doubt, go to Santa Barbara.
When Perdita dies, leaving Beckett her house in the sparkling American Riviera, and Beckett finds she can’t write another word, she flees up the coast. Waiting for her is a sunny terracotta house stuffed with vintage couture, bittersweet memories, and an absurd amount of movie paraphernalia. It’s honestly perfect, except for the sweet rescue dog who keeps showing up in her yard. Actually, the dog is perfection—the ornery enigma of a foster dad who tucks the pup into a king-sized bed each night (but refuses to name her)? He could use some work.
Though, in his favor, he might also be exactly the right person to help Beckett ignore her deadlines, live boldly, collect a few regrets, and maybe, just maybe, have a love affair so cinematic she’ll finally experience what it means to say goodbye.
Beckett Heyburn loves classic romantic films. You know, the kind with sweeping kisses on the backs of trains, couples dancing in the rain, and those iconic lines you remember even after you forget what movie they’re from. She’s always wanted to write one—one of those lines and one of those films—and though she is a moderately successful screenwriter, not a single project of hers has ever come close.
Her mentor Perdita says it’s because Beckett has never experienced a true goodbye. Actually, Perdita says a lot of things. That Beckett should live boldly, collect regrets, always pack a few purse canapes when leaving a party, and when in doubt, go to Santa Barbara.
When Perdita dies, leaving Beckett her house in the sparkling American Riviera, and Beckett finds she can’t write another word, she flees up the coast. Waiting for her is a sunny terracotta house stuffed with vintage couture, bittersweet memories, and an absurd amount of movie paraphernalia. It’s honestly perfect, except for the sweet rescue dog who keeps showing up in her yard. Actually, the dog is perfection—the ornery enigma of a foster dad who tucks the pup into a king-sized bed each night (but refuses to name her)? He could use some work.
Though, in his favor, he might also be exactly the right person to help Beckett ignore her deadlines, live boldly, collect a few regrets, and maybe, just maybe, have a love affair so cinematic she’ll finally experience what it means to say goodbye.
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