Exes and O's: The next swoon-worthy rom-com from romance sensation Amy Lea

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Already my eyes were darting around, trying to find the best escape route. Had I been dumped by my physician fiancé only to be slain by a stalker from Banana Republic? I laughed. "Okay, then, what do you do when you're not, ahem, charitably donating your time to the psychological improvement of young minds?" The phone beeped angrily and gave me the technological equivalent of the finger -- the "please charge battery" message. Then the illuminated screen went blank.

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I nodded at his left hand, which, although tan and sprinkled with thin dark hair, remained ringless. "Still not married?" Well...what do you do with your time when you're not playing hooky on Friday afternoons or stewarding the clinic?" He flinched. Couldn't bear to think of my platinum-set Tiffany diamond ring sparkling away in some second-rate North Hollywood jewelry shop. Poor baby. Damn. You psychologists have quite the eye for detail. All right, I admit it -- I'm a preppy M.B.A. who wears an ostentatious watch." He turned both palms outward. "What can I say? It was a gift from my mother, and it does keep good time." Technically, yes, but stewarding...it makes me sound like I smoke a pipe and wear an ascot and I've got one foot in the grave. I'm only thirty-five."He lowered his voice. He looked to the left. He looked to the right. "The woman I was dating -- Harmony -- " Sure, it's nice for the kids. But what happens when happily ever after breaks down and Mom is stranded in the middle of nowhere with no job and no income while Dad takes off with some popcorn-obsessed chippy?" I must have looked hesitant, because he added, "I solemnly swear not to chain you to the stove in the ranch house. Until the third date." What's her medium? Pop Secret? Redenbacher? Does she have a corporate sponsor?" His laughter was contagious.

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Oh yeah? What fancy degrees do you have slapped up on your wall?" I sized him up and took a guess. "M.B.A.?" I flushed. "Let's just say that he was not worthy of the many hysterical breakdowns I had over whether the wedding invitations should be white or ecru." Listen, I've seen the dark side of 'I do,' and it is 'I don't.' Uttered the night before the ceremony, when the erstwhile groom decides that his true destiny lies with his ex-girlfriend, a massage therapist who makes popcorn mosaics on the side." I waved my spoon for emphasis.

He paused for a second. "I just came from a meeting with him myself, so if you'd like, I could call and tell him you're showing me around the campus. We could go grab a cup of coffee." And the truly horrible part was, I missed him. He had lied to me, cheated on me, and humiliated me in front of a rented reception hall's worth of friends and family, but I missed him anyway, and I could never admit it to another living soul. The silence between us stretched into eons. Stars flared up and extinguished in the heavens. Species evolved and died out. It became tragically apparent that the Big One was not going to hit right now, swallow me up into the San Andreas Fault, and save me from the raw humiliation of this moment. I had to say something. Anything. He straightened up in his seat. "I shouldn't say any more than I already have. It was a long time ago, and it's not worth remembering."

Exes and Ohs by Beth Kendrick | Goodreads Exes and Ohs by Beth Kendrick | Goodreads

He laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. His skin looked tan and a bit weathered. Probably from all that yachting down at the asylum. It was not good. We gaped at each other, both of us mute and rooted to the sun-bleached concrete. His gaze slid away from mine, so I focused on the small blue name tag pinned to his white coat: DR. D. SCHELL. We were standing, fittingly, in The Bomb Shelter, which is the café adjacent to the med school.Morning after morning, as I selected the day's ensemble, I was greeted by the ivory silk reminder of my failure and disgrace.