Genre Fiction
![Elissa Sussman - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B00J58UKGW.jpg)
Funny You Should Ask: A Novel
A restless young journalist with big dreams interviews a Hollywood heartthrob-and reunites with him ten years later to discover exactly how he feels about her in this sexy and engrossing novel
"You will absolutely devour this book. It's filled with delightful banter, hot romance, and a love story that's worthy of the big screen."-Kate Spencer, author of In a New York Minute and host of Forever35
Then. Twenty-something writer Chani Horowitz is stuck. While her former MFA classmates are nabbing high-profile book deals, all she does is churn out puff pieces. Then she's hired to write a profile of movie star Gabe Parker: her number one celebrity crush and the latest James Bond. All Chani wants to do is keep her cool and nail the piece. But what comes next proves to be life changing in ways she never saw coming, as the interview turns into a whirlwind weekend that has the tabloids buzzing-and Chani getting closer to Gabe than she had planned.
Now. Ten years later, after a brutal divorce and a healthy dose of therapy, Chani is back in Los Angeles as a successful writer with the career of her dreams. Except that no matter what new essay collection or online editorial she's promoting, someone always asks about The Profile. It always comes back to Gabe. So when his PR team requests that they reunite for a second interview, she wants to say no. She wants to pretend that she's forgotten about the time they spent together. But the truth is that Chani wants to know if those seventy-two hours were as memorable to Gabe as they were to her. And so . . . she says yes.
Alternating between their first meeting and their reunion a decade later, this deliciously irresistible novel will have you hanging on until the last word.
"You will absolutely devour this book. It's filled with delightful banter, hot romance, and a love story that's worthy of the big screen."-Kate Spencer, author of In a New York Minute and host of Forever35
Then. Twenty-something writer Chani Horowitz is stuck. While her former MFA classmates are nabbing high-profile book deals, all she does is churn out puff pieces. Then she's hired to write a profile of movie star Gabe Parker: her number one celebrity crush and the latest James Bond. All Chani wants to do is keep her cool and nail the piece. But what comes next proves to be life changing in ways she never saw coming, as the interview turns into a whirlwind weekend that has the tabloids buzzing-and Chani getting closer to Gabe than she had planned.
Now. Ten years later, after a brutal divorce and a healthy dose of therapy, Chani is back in Los Angeles as a successful writer with the career of her dreams. Except that no matter what new essay collection or online editorial she's promoting, someone always asks about The Profile. It always comes back to Gabe. So when his PR team requests that they reunite for a second interview, she wants to say no. She wants to pretend that she's forgotten about the time they spent together. But the truth is that Chani wants to know if those seventy-two hours were as memorable to Gabe as they were to her. And so . . . she says yes.
Alternating between their first meeting and their reunion a decade later, this deliciously irresistible novel will have you hanging on until the last word.
Editorial Reviews
"Funny You Should Ask is the kind of fascinating, intimate character study that feels like reading about real people. A breezy, addictive romance-I couldn't put it down!"-Rachel Lynn Solomon, author of The Ex Talk
"Funny You Should Ask is a smart, sensitive story full of love and longing-not to mention a totally swoonworthy hero. It's also a page-turning peek into the celebrity machine. Framed by one infamous weekend and its fallout, the book goes beyond the glossy surface to thoughtfully tackle questions of perception versus reality, and which can hurt more: the limitations other people place on us, or the ones we place on ourselves."-Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan, bestselling authors of The Royal We and The HeirAffair
"Elissa Sussman's adult debut promises a glamorous celeb romp, but offers a double-whammy with thoughtful, emotional depth. As the narrative jumps back and forth in time, the truth of what happened between Gabe and Chani unfolds and a romance blooms-cautious, sweet, and sizzling with tension. . . . A beautiful, fun, heartfelt love story that I couldn't put down."-Maurene Goo, author of Somewhere Only We Know
"Alternating between past and present, YA writer Sussman's first novel for adults slowly lays out the events of her characters' first meeting and how much has changed in the decade since. The result is a sexy, sometimes emotionally fraught tale that is both funny and romantic and that will appeal to fans of Sophie Kinsella."-Booklist, Susan Maguire
"Sussman makes her adult fiction debut with a smart and sexy tale of second-chance love. The story thoroughly satisfies on a romantic level and packs an emotional punch with genuine characters."-Library Journal (starred review)
"Young adult author Elissa Sussman may be poised for a breakout hit with her first novel for adults, Funny You Should Ask. . . . Sussman's smart writing and firm control over the narrati...
"Funny You Should Ask is a smart, sensitive story full of love and longing-not to mention a totally swoonworthy hero. It's also a page-turning peek into the celebrity machine. Framed by one infamous weekend and its fallout, the book goes beyond the glossy surface to thoughtfully tackle questions of perception versus reality, and which can hurt more: the limitations other people place on us, or the ones we place on ourselves."-Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan, bestselling authors of The Royal We and The HeirAffair
"Elissa Sussman's adult debut promises a glamorous celeb romp, but offers a double-whammy with thoughtful, emotional depth. As the narrative jumps back and forth in time, the truth of what happened between Gabe and Chani unfolds and a romance blooms-cautious, sweet, and sizzling with tension. . . . A beautiful, fun, heartfelt love story that I couldn't put down."-Maurene Goo, author of Somewhere Only We Know
"Alternating between past and present, YA writer Sussman's first novel for adults slowly lays out the events of her characters' first meeting and how much has changed in the decade since. The result is a sexy, sometimes emotionally fraught tale that is both funny and romantic and that will appeal to fans of Sophie Kinsella."-Booklist, Susan Maguire
"Sussman makes her adult fiction debut with a smart and sexy tale of second-chance love. The story thoroughly satisfies on a romantic level and packs an emotional punch with genuine characters."-Library Journal (starred review)
"Young adult author Elissa Sussman may be poised for a breakout hit with her first novel for adults, Funny You Should Ask. . . . Sussman's smart writing and firm control over the narrati...
Readers Top Reviews
Theresa AlanJ.Kkathl
2.5 stars. I had a hard time getting through this. It kept putting me to sleep. A large part of the plot hinges on an alleged stereotype of female journalists sleeping with celebrities to get a story. If that’s a stereotype, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. I think of writers and journalists as more likely to be brainy and nerdy (in a good way, since I like smart, literate people) than vixens using their wiles to get a scoop. The protagonist is so defensive that even though I agreed with much of her world view, I didn’t like her. Ten years ago, Chani gets an interview with the actor Gabe Parker and ends up going to a movie premier with him, meaning she spends more time than just asking some questions over lunch or a cup of coffee. The subsequent profile she writes launches her career, and he does well for a while until his addiction to alcohol causes him to stumble. In these 10 years, they’ve both had less than successful marriages. When they’re reunited a second time, the lust everyone assumes they acted on a decade earlier has an opportunity to bloom. I got an advance copy of this from NetGalley.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1
I arrived early and damp. The blue cotton blouse that had looked professional and flattering in my apartment mirror was now stuck to my armpits in dark, wet half-moons. Lifting my arms, I blasted the AC in my car, hoping both to dry my shirt and shock the nervousness out of my system.
I'd interviewed celebrities before.
I'd even interviewed supernaturally beautiful celebrities before.
This was different.
Gabe Parker wasn't just any celebrity. He was my number one, heart-fluttering, palm-sweating, thigh-clenching celebrity crush. I'd entertained multiple extensive, detailed fantasies about him. I'd done numerous searches for paparazzi pictures of him. Until this morning, a shirtless photo of him had been the lock screen of my phone.
I had zero chill when it came to Gabe Parker.
If Jeremy and I were still dating, there'd be a major possibility he would have tried to veto this interview. He knew how I felt about Gabe. When he'd insisted on us declaring our "free pass" celebrities, I'd chosen Gabe. Jeremy had pouted.
It was ridiculous, of course.
Gabe would probably be charming and kind and amiable. It wouldn't be because he liked me, or thought I was interesting, or because we had any sort of deep emotional connection. It would be because it was his job to charm me. And it was my job to be charmed.
His management had been very, very clear about the kind of profile they were expecting me to turn in. What they wanted in exchange for the access Broad Sheets was getting to Gabe before he started shooting.
They wanted a story that would counter the bad press his casting had caused. They wanted a story that would convince the naysayers that he was the best choice for Bond. They wanted me to sell him to America. To the world.
I wanted a story that would keep getting me work.
I blogged and sent short stories to literary magazines like I was tossing rocks into the ocean.
I'd only gotten one published, and then, just when I was considering that maybe I should give up trying to be a writer, I'd gotten the gig at Broad Sheets.
I'd been recommended by a former professor who had once called my writing "mainstream"-as much of an insult as one could get in an esteemed MFA program but apparently exactly what Broad Sheets was looking for.
Jeremy called the stuff I was doing "puff pieces," but we'd still celebrated when I got the job-
spending a good chunk of my first paycheck on bottomless fries and happy hour beers.
The editors at Broad Sheets seemed to like my writing-at least, they kept giving me work-and every month I could pay my bills with the money I made off my writing felt like an accomplishment.
I knew that this interview was an opportunity to show that I could take on more high-profile, better-paying articles. It needed to go well.
Even though I'd just checked it five minutes ago, I scanned my bag again to make sure that I had a pen, my notebook with the questions I'd written out last night, and my tape recorder, which had a new set of batteries. I was as prepared as I was going to be.
My armpits were now cold and wet. I realized, with horror, that I wasn't one hundred percent sure I'd put deodorant on. I gave myself a sniff, but couldn't tell.
It was too late now.
I glanced in the rearview mirror one last time, grateful that at least my bangs had chosen to be obedient.
Gabe was staying in a rental house in Laurel Canyon. I'd expected something grand, with a massive gate and intense security system, but I'd been sent to a modest bungalow set back from the street with nothing more than an unlocked, waist-high gate to keep people out.
But even though it was small, I knew the place had to cost at least four times more than the apartment I shared with one stranger and one half-friend.
I could feel my heart ricocheting up and down my throat as I walked through the gate and down the pathway. A heart attack or a panic attack or some other sort of attack seemed extremely likely.
"He's just a person. He's just a person," I said to myself.
I lifted my hand, but before I could even knock, the door swung open and there he was.
Gabe. Parker.
I'd done enough interviews like this to know firsthand the difference a camera and a crew cou...
I arrived early and damp. The blue cotton blouse that had looked professional and flattering in my apartment mirror was now stuck to my armpits in dark, wet half-moons. Lifting my arms, I blasted the AC in my car, hoping both to dry my shirt and shock the nervousness out of my system.
I'd interviewed celebrities before.
I'd even interviewed supernaturally beautiful celebrities before.
This was different.
Gabe Parker wasn't just any celebrity. He was my number one, heart-fluttering, palm-sweating, thigh-clenching celebrity crush. I'd entertained multiple extensive, detailed fantasies about him. I'd done numerous searches for paparazzi pictures of him. Until this morning, a shirtless photo of him had been the lock screen of my phone.
I had zero chill when it came to Gabe Parker.
If Jeremy and I were still dating, there'd be a major possibility he would have tried to veto this interview. He knew how I felt about Gabe. When he'd insisted on us declaring our "free pass" celebrities, I'd chosen Gabe. Jeremy had pouted.
It was ridiculous, of course.
Gabe would probably be charming and kind and amiable. It wouldn't be because he liked me, or thought I was interesting, or because we had any sort of deep emotional connection. It would be because it was his job to charm me. And it was my job to be charmed.
His management had been very, very clear about the kind of profile they were expecting me to turn in. What they wanted in exchange for the access Broad Sheets was getting to Gabe before he started shooting.
They wanted a story that would counter the bad press his casting had caused. They wanted a story that would convince the naysayers that he was the best choice for Bond. They wanted me to sell him to America. To the world.
I wanted a story that would keep getting me work.
I blogged and sent short stories to literary magazines like I was tossing rocks into the ocean.
I'd only gotten one published, and then, just when I was considering that maybe I should give up trying to be a writer, I'd gotten the gig at Broad Sheets.
I'd been recommended by a former professor who had once called my writing "mainstream"-as much of an insult as one could get in an esteemed MFA program but apparently exactly what Broad Sheets was looking for.
Jeremy called the stuff I was doing "puff pieces," but we'd still celebrated when I got the job-
spending a good chunk of my first paycheck on bottomless fries and happy hour beers.
The editors at Broad Sheets seemed to like my writing-at least, they kept giving me work-and every month I could pay my bills with the money I made off my writing felt like an accomplishment.
I knew that this interview was an opportunity to show that I could take on more high-profile, better-paying articles. It needed to go well.
Even though I'd just checked it five minutes ago, I scanned my bag again to make sure that I had a pen, my notebook with the questions I'd written out last night, and my tape recorder, which had a new set of batteries. I was as prepared as I was going to be.
My armpits were now cold and wet. I realized, with horror, that I wasn't one hundred percent sure I'd put deodorant on. I gave myself a sniff, but couldn't tell.
It was too late now.
I glanced in the rearview mirror one last time, grateful that at least my bangs had chosen to be obedient.
Gabe was staying in a rental house in Laurel Canyon. I'd expected something grand, with a massive gate and intense security system, but I'd been sent to a modest bungalow set back from the street with nothing more than an unlocked, waist-high gate to keep people out.
But even though it was small, I knew the place had to cost at least four times more than the apartment I shared with one stranger and one half-friend.
I could feel my heart ricocheting up and down my throat as I walked through the gate and down the pathway. A heart attack or a panic attack or some other sort of attack seemed extremely likely.
"He's just a person. He's just a person," I said to myself.
I lifted my hand, but before I could even knock, the door swung open and there he was.
Gabe. Parker.
I'd done enough interviews like this to know firsthand the difference a camera and a crew cou...
