Purple Hearts

NOW A NETFLIX ORIGINAL FILM!

When a soldier with a troubled past and a struggling songwriter agree to a marriage of convenience for the military benefits, neither expects much after saying "I do." Then tragedy strikes, and the line between what's real and what's pretend begins to blur in this smart and surprising romance perfect for fans of Nicholas Sparks and Jojo Moyes.

Cassie Salazar and Luke Morrow couldn't be more different. Sharp-witted Cassie works nights at a bar in Austin, Texas to make ends meet while pursuing her dream of becoming a singer/songwriter. Luke is an Army trainee, about to ship out for duty, who finds comfort in the unswerving discipline of service. But a chance encounter at Cassie's bar changes the course of both their lives.

Cassie is drowning in medical bills after being diagnosed with diabetes. When she runs into her old friend Frankie, now enlisted in the Army, she proposes a deal: she'll marry him in exchange for better medical insurance and they can split the increased paycheck that comes with having a "family." When Frankie declines, his attractive but frustratingly intense friend Luke volunteers to marry Cassie instead. What she doesn't know is that he has desperate reasons of his own to get married. In this unforgettable love story, Cassie and Luke must set aside their differences to make it look like a real marriage...unless, somewhere along the way, it becomes one...

quot;PURPLE HEARTS is every bit real and tangible. It's a story you can't walk away from, yet you're breaking into pieces the deeper you read. My only objection is that I wanted more. More of Cassie, more of Luke. More of their lives intertwined together. It's a slow burn, a sizzle, a spark, a big gush of wind threatening to blow you away."

Autorentext

When not producing fiction for young readers, Tess Wakefield works in Golden Valley, Minnesota as a copywriter, an amateur comedian, and a caretaker for several thriving plants. Purple Hearts is her first novel for adults.

Klappentext

SOON TO BE A NETFLIX FILM!

When a soldier with a troubled past and a struggling songwriter agrees to a marriage of convenience for the military benefits, neither expects much after saying “I do.” Then tragedy strikes, and the line between what’s real and what’s pretending begins to blur in this smart and surprising romance perfect for fans of Nicholas Sparks and Jojo Moyes.

Zusammenfassung
SOON TO BE A NETFLIX FILM!

When a soldier with a troubled past and a struggling songwriter agree to a marriage of convenience for the military benefits, neither expects much after saying “I do.” Then tragedy strikes, and the line between what’s real and what’s pretend begins to blur in this smart and surprising romance perfect for fans of Nicholas Sparks and Jojo Moyes.

Cassie Salazar and Luke Morrow couldn’t be more different. Sharp-witted Cassie works nights at a bar in Austin, Texas to make ends meet while pursuing her dream of becoming a singer/songwriter. Luke is an Army trainee, about to ship out for duty, who finds comfort in the unswerving discipline of service. But a chance encounter at Cassie’s bar changes the course of both their lives.

Cassie is drowning in medical bills after being diagnosed with diabetes. When she runs into her old friend Frankie, now enlisted in the Army, she proposes a deal: she’ll marry him in exchange for better medical insurance and they can split the increased paycheck that comes with having a “family.” When Frankie declines, his attractive but frustratingly intense friend Luke volunteers to marry Cassie instead. What she doesn’t know is that he has desperate reasons of his own to get married. In this unforgettable love story, Cassie and Luke must set aside their differences to make it look like a real marriage...unless, somewhere along the way, it becomes one...

Leseprobe
Purple Hearts Cassie
Today, August 2, at 5:34 p.m. on the South Congress Bridge, also known as the South Congress parking lot, I accepted my true form. The windows of the Subaru were down, Queen's Greatest Hits was at full blast, and this was it, I was no longer a woman shackled to a cubicle, I was a bandleader, scream-singing with Freddie Mercury. The cars ahead were braking. I followed suit, holding out my hand to make sure the box on my front seat didn't slide. Inside was a picture of my mom and me at Disneyland when I was five, a coffee mug with David Bowie's face emblazoned on it, and three stale granola bars I found buried under some old depositions. My personal effects.

A half hour ago, my boss, Beth, had called me into her office. She'd reached over and taken my hand, the slime of her lime-scented lotion rubbing my palm, and fired me. I'd looked down at my thighs sticking out of my boxy navy dress, my cheap ballet flats, and felt this odd buoyancy. It was the feeling I got every single day at five, walking through the parking lot, but magnified ten times. Like at some point, I'd hear the clap of a director's slate and everything in Beth's office would get brighter under studio lights and someone would yell, "Okay, that's a wrap on paralegal! Nice work, Cassie."

And that was today. I had walked off the set to start my real life, hopefully one that involved not just car singing. Despite the fact that Beth's drawn-out, fake-sympathetic "I wish I didn't have to do this" speech had made me late for my second-now only-job, I had already realized being laid off from Jimenez, Gustafson, and Moriarty wills and probate attorneys was meant to happen. Not a blessing in disguise, not a wake-up call, but an actual pure-as-sugar good thing, a thing I had wanted and wished for: to be rid of the endless hours of licking stamps and finding typos, and, more often than not, quickly tabbing out of Hiatus Kaiyote performances on YouTube when I sensed Beth behind my desk.

I switched lanes to get ahead of the Pathfinder. This was it. I would announce it. I turned down Queen, put my phone on speaker, plopped it in the cup holder, and dialed.

"Yello." Traffic hummed in the background. Mom must have been on her way home from the Florien residence, where she cleaned on Fridays.

"Hi," I said. "I was fired."

Silence. The traffic inched forward. "You got fired?"

I blew out a breath and smiled. "Yes."

"You got fired?" she repeated.

"Yes, Mom," I confirmed.

"For what?"

"They said that business was down, and they were combining my job with Stephanie's, and Stephanie had been there longer, so, wah-wah." I made a sad-horn sound. "Good-bye, Cassie."

"I'm sorry, mija." I could picture her face, her lips smashed together, her brows knit. "I'm very sorry this happened. What are you going to do?"

I thought of Nora's smoky basement, of Toby swiveling on the stool behind his drum set, of pressing my ear to the wood of the old upright piano I got off Craigslist, of never having to end band practice at ten p.m. so I would be awake enough for a daily purgatory of Excel spreadsheets. I could find out what it feels like to be an actual musician. I could wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, knowing the whole day was mine for The Loyal.

My voice was light. "I'm on my way to The Handle Bar, so, go to the next grind, I guess."

"You're taking this well."

"Yeah," I said, softening my voice so I sounded sadder, since it was what she expected. "I'm trying."

"What about your health insurance?&…