33 Valentines

33 Valentines

4.6 13
by Stephanie Monahan
     
 

View All Available Formats & Editions

33 Valentines by Stephanie Monahan

All Sophie wants for her thirty-third year is a calendar without a February—and without a Valentine's Day. The unlucky month haunts her with regrets, loss, and missteps she can never take back. But this year, she's determined to make a change— and she's going to start with telling her best friend, Sam, how she

…  See more details below

Overview

33 Valentines by Stephanie Monahan

All Sophie wants for her thirty-third year is a calendar without a February—and without a Valentine's Day. The unlucky month haunts her with regrets, loss, and missteps she can never take back. But this year, she's determined to make a change— and she's going to start with telling her best friend, Sam, how she feels about him. But February isn't making it easy for her. Sam's got a date with his dream girl, and Sophie finds herself in the hospital. Then there's her father, who has a surprise that's about to turn her world upside-down, and her little brother, who doesn't seem to have any room for her in his life. While everyone else seems to be living life, Sophie is stuck in neutral. Now, Sophie must come to terms with everything that's holding her back in order to fight for what she wants before she loses the chance to turn her luck around.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781622669608
Publisher:
Entangled Publishing, LLC
Publication date:
01/21/2013
Series:
Entangled Select
Sold by:
Macmillan
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
261
Sales rank:
449,932
File size:
3 MB

Read an Excerpt

33 Valentines

Sometimes the shortest month feels the longest


By Stephanie Monahan, Adrien-Luc Sanders

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Copyright © 2013 Stephanie Monahan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62266-960-8


CHAPTER 1

This year, February had twenty-nine days. Still the least of any month, but I'd prefer February had none at all. I'd like to create a calendar that flowed straight from January to March, a calendar with only eleven months. If I could do something to make that happen, and erase the last thirty-two Februaries of my life, I would. Because when I woke this morning, on the first day of my thirty-third February, I convinced myself that somehow, this one would be different — that I held the power to turn the tide of my own life. That I could make February into anything I wanted it to be, and I was going to start with something big. I was going to start with Valentine's Day. But first, I was going to start with Sam, and finally give myself something to look forward to on the holiday I always dreaded.

What a joke.

"You okay?" the nurse asked.

I gave her a weak nod, because I couldn't say anything through gritted teeth. My head throbbed at the temples and still hadn't quite stopped spinning, so moving it wasn't the best idea. The queasiness in my stomach returned and I waited to be sick. I hadn't thrown up since college, the first time I'd ever gotten drunk. My one-time foray into the world of beer pong. The thought of it scared me almost as much as the fact that right now, my left arm was mangled, hanging loose like a cottony Muppet limb.

"The X-ray was the worst part," the nurse said in a soothing voice. "The doctor will be right in to tell you if you'll need surgery. If not, we'll fix you up right here and you'll be all set in no time."

She was trying to make me feel better by talking in that calm voice, slightly high-pitched, like I was a dog or a little kid, but it wasn't helping. Though I wasn't sure if anything would at this point, not after I saw the way my arm was bent, at an angle that no human limb should ever be positioned. I'd never broken anything in my life. I'd never even had a sprain.

The nurse wore blue scrubs smattered with tiny flowers. Her face was obscured by gigantic John Lennon glasses, the same kind I wore to see the blackboard in middle school. She smiled at me.

"I know it's scary, but I promise, you'll be fine." She patted the shoulder of my good arm and I bit back tears, resisting the crazy urge to tell her the whole stupid story of how I got here. I bet she had kids waiting for her at home.

The doctor appeared in the doorway. A handsome man with floppy brown hair and a square jaw, just like all the doctors on prime-time soap operas. He flashed me a smile, but unlike the sympathetic one offered by the nurse, his was reminiscent of performance art. A stage smile. I didn't like him. I wasn't judging him only on his theatrical entrance and good looks; I was also judging him by the fact that he was probably not much older than me.

"I've got good news, and I've got bad news," he boomed without introducing himself. "Which would you like first?"

I glanced at the nurse, who barely suppressed an eye roll. She must have to work with him often. "Um ... the bad news?"

The doctor nodded, and this time his smile patronized me, as if I was a slow student who'd finally come up with the right answer. "The bad news is the x-ray shows I will have to reset the bones." It was like he was reading from a script, deep-voiced and appropriately concerned. "You must have fallen at just the right angle, because the radius snapped at — "

"Doctor," the nurse interrupted. They looked at each other, and then at me. My vision started to blur and I couldn't make out their expressions, but the doctor stopped talking and I was sure it was because I was about to pass out.

"Right," said the doctor. He smiled again, reached into his white coat pocket, and set a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses on his nose. I wondered if he was aware of the complete impossibility of his existence outside of television. "Let's get started."

Get started? The nurse put her hand on my shoulder again and told me to relax. In the emergency room, being told to relax was generally not a good thing. I lifted my eyes to hers and she tightened her grip on my shoulder.

"Don't look at the needle," she said. Oh God, the needle. This couldn't really be happening to me. I shut my eyes and told myself this wouldn't have happened in January. Or March. Or any other month. It wouldn't have happened.

Just a few hours ago I'd been so hopeful. I wasn't sure exactly what time it was — I got out of work at five, so it must have been at least seven now, maybe later — but just a few hours ago I'd envisioned where I'd be right now. At dinner with Sam. Finally telling him everything. I'd even planned it this way, waited until February first to prove to myself that this entire month wasn't cursed.

And here I was in the ER.

In retrospect, it couldn't have played out any differently.

"She was on her phone at the time of the call, huh?" the doctor said to the nurse, like I wasn't even in the room.

"That's what they said."

He glanced at me with a closed-mouth, "kids these days" look on his face. I'm not a kid, I wanted to say. I'm a thirty-three-year-old woman. Jerkface.

Something reeked of glue. It sent my stomach spinning. "We're just finishing up the cast," said the nurse.

I wasn't sure if I fell asleep or just zoned out, but the next thing I knew the doctor was gone and the nurse was cleaning up. Her hand returned to my shoulder. "Just rest for a little while. You'll be discharged soon."

"Thanks," I said as she turned to go. "Wait. My phone. Did she survive?"

The nurse opened a cabinet, revealing my camel brown messenger bag. "It's in there. You'll get it when you leave." She frowned. "The doctor's right, you know. Those things cause all types of injuries. My niece? She's only twenty-four years old. Already has carpal tunnel. You should really limit your usage."

I nodded and tried to look serious, as if I was considering it. Once she was gone I swung my legs over the side of the bed. As soon as I tried to make myself vertical, though, the room started to spin. My arm, dead against my left side, began to throb more insistently. I had no choice but to crawl back into the bed. I stared at my cast, which extended from my wrist all the way to my shoulder, the whole thing ensconced in a sling. My left hand — my dominant hand, I realized in another rush of panic — was completely immobilized. Somehow, I felt like it had betrayed me.

That asshole.


* * *

The next time I opened my eyes, there was more commotion outside my room. A doctor in full regalia rushed down the corridor. An elderly man pushed an IV pole with all the energy of a dying snail. A nurse walked between a couple, both of them with their heads bent toward her, listening.

Then I saw him. Sam. He walked right past my room. You couldn't miss his head of messy brown curls or the stupid plaid blazer with mismatched elbow pads, just one of a collection of blazers he insisted on wearing in class.

I called out his name. He stopped, looking around as if he'd heard a voice from space. I called his name again. This time he turned and saw me. His face changed from confused to concerned in the second it took him to hurry into my room and settle at the edge of the bed.

"What the hell happened?" His pale cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavy.

I narrowed my eyes. "Have you been running?"

"Four flights," he said, peeling off his blazer and draping it over the end of the bed. "Elevator's broken, and I thought you were on the brink of death. Is there any water around here?"

"Sorry." I smiled. "I could call the nurse."

"I'll survive, I suppose. And now I'm all sweaty." He moved a chair from the other end of the room to the side of my bed and sat. "You've already made me break my resolution not to work out."

I laughed, and he smiled, and as soon as our eyes met all I could think about was why I fell.

I stopped laughing and looked away. In the hallway behind Sam, somebody was being wheeled on a gurney. In or out, I couldn't tell. "Thanks for coming," I said softly.

Sam stretched his long legs and scanned the room. Eventually his gaze landed back on me. "Of course," he said. "Though it puts a lot of pressure on me now, knowing I'm the one you call when you" — he eyed my cast — "break your arm, apparently."

I rolled my eyes, but the rest of me grew hot. "It had to be someone local. My dad's not local and Naomi's always losing her phone."

"I see," Sam said.

"Don't be a jerk. My arm really hurts." It didn't, really, after all the meds they dumped into me, but his face softened and when it did, something inside me melted too.

"So what happened?" he asked.

The e-mail he sent me flashed in my mind and I pushed it away. I fumbled with my words. "I don't really remember, exactly. I fell."

"I'm sure those monster heels had nothing to do with it."

"I'm not wearing my monster heels."

He looked down at my boots to confirm. "Baby monster."

It wasn't fair. If I had to go down, I might as well have done it rocking my five-inchers.

"I'd just gotten off the T and was waiting to cross the street. Some kid on a skateboard plowed right into me and I fell."

"Those little bastards are out there all the time," Sam said. "I say we start a petition."

"Oh, and there was this old woman too, waiting at the light. I think I might've knocked her over."

This sent him into laughter. "Now you and your baby monster heels are taking out the elderly."

"Okay, she wasn't that old. Maybe sixty. Ish."

"A senior citizen," Sam declared.

I shot him a look. "A young sixty. Possibly late fifties."

You shouldn't make fun of me, I wanted to tell him, considering this is all your fault.

Indirectly, at least. Or directly. Either way, I just wanted to be mad at him.

Just like everyone else on the T, I passed the ride home messing around on my phone. I got his email just after I reached my stop and was walking up the stairs to the street. I thought it was going to be about our plans for tonight. I'd sent him a message earlier, a casual invitation to dinner. It wouldn't be a big deal to him, since we ate together all the time, but I knew my invitation wasn't casual at all.

His e-mail was not about our plans. Didn't even make any mention of receiving my message. I read it over and over, not believing it. I was on my fourth go around when I tripped over an uneven patch of cement and crashed into an old lady on the sidewalk. She was old — near eighty, I guessed — and frail. I knocked her over, sending her hat and her linen tote bag flying. I was hardly concerned with her, though, because I'd landed on my arm and heard it crack. Stabbing, burning pain shot up from my wrist, through my elbow and to my shoulder. I couldn't look.

A man I recognized as a passenger on my train knelt by me. "You're all right," he'd said. But then he'd looked at my arm and his face turned green. "I — uh — I'll call someone."

"I'm not all right then?" I'd asked in a small voice.

A group had converged around the poor old lady I'd almost killed. They lifted her to her feet. A teenage boy collected her bag and her hat and handed them to her with more care than I put into just about anything. My eyes started to tear up. See, there were good people in the world. It hadn't all gone to shit, at least not yet, not everything. The woman hobbled over to me and I tried to smile through the searing pain.

"I'm so sorry," I'd started to say.

She'd interrupted me. "You stupid whore!"

Up close she not only looked old, but she looked nuts. For a minute I thought she might kick me.

But the teenager put his arm around her. "Where are you going, ma'am?"

"Oh, thank you honey," she'd said. She stopped to glare at me once more before being led away.

I turned to the man who'd stopped to help me. "I can't believe — "

The man was gone. The entire street was empty. My arm felt like it'd been cut in two. Which it basically had, I guess. Eventually the EMTs showed up and carted me into the back of the ambulance. They didn't even turn the sirens on.

Exactly none of this story would I ever tell Sam.

He stopped teasing me when we heard the sobbing. A middle-aged woman with a cell phone pressed to her ear collapsed against the wall directly across from my room. A minute later another woman found her and lifted her up. They walked away together, both crying.

"Get me out of here," I said.


* * *

"Holy shit, no wonder you fell." Sam had retrieved my messenger bag from the cabinet and wasn't giving it back to me. "How do you even stay upright with this thing?"

"It holds all of my essentials." Like my phone. And a lint roller, an umbrella, a couple magazines, a water bottle, an extra pair of shoes ...

"Since when did the entire contents of your apartment become essentials?"

"I didn't hear you complaining last week when I smuggled your contraband Milk Duds into the movies."

"True."

I held out my right hand. This was weird. I'd always taken so much nonsensical pride in being a lefty. "Now hand it over."

"You can't carry this. You're much too feeble."

"Sam — "

"I got it. Now come on."

I was leaving this godforsaken place with a bottle of painkillers, a medical note to excuse me from work for the next week, and a follow-up appointment with an orthopedic surgeon in seven days. The break was bad, the doctor had explained to me and Sam. I could be in the cast for weeks.

"Well, at least it wasn't her head," Sam had said brightly, tousling my hair. The doctor didn't smile. I got the impression he didn't appreciate being upstaged. He wordlessly handed me the prescription and we were on our way. I didn't get a chance to say good-bye to the nurse.

We stepped on to the now-working elevator, a teenager with a surgical mask over his mouth already inside. "I really don't feel like getting back on the train," I whined.

"I figured as much. So, my dear, you are in luck." Sam pulled keys out of his pocket. For him it was as impressive as a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. We'd both lived in the city for years. Neither of us owned a car.

I grabbed them from him. "Where'd you get these?"

"A special place. A very special place." When I groaned, he sighed. "It's a Zipcar."

"Oh. Aren't those expensive?"

He shrugged.

"I'll pay you back."

"Soph, you've already blessed me with the image of you and your baby monster heels attacking a helpless handicapped woman. That's payment enough."

The teenager stared at us. Maybe, if I were a better person, I'd have looked past the part where she swore at me and feel sorry for her instead. But I wasn't.

"She wasn't handicapped," I told the boy. He folded his arms and inched away from us, into the corner of the elevator.

Outside the wind howled like a newborn baby. It sounded angry. I wondered if February hated itself as much as I hated it. Sam stepped in front of me and made a show out of opening the Zipcar door. "Ladies first."

"Wait a sec," I said as he started the engine. "Do you even have a license?"

He smiled, showing all his teeth. Back in high school, while the rest of us turned sixteen and salivated at the thought of a license, Sam had refused to get a permit. He hated suburbia and insisted that as soon as we graduated, he'd be out of there and back to the city. He had no need to learn to drive.

"Oh God," I said. "Please. I've already almost died once today."

"Calm down." He patted my knee, and I jerked away, a bodily response I couldn't control. He's always touched me — elbowing my side or pulling on a strand of my hair or wiping crumbs from my cheek. He'd been touching me since we were thirteen years old. Only recently had my body started reacting so strangely. Warming, wanting him to touch me again. Craving it. Dreaming about it. All of it needed to stop. Now.

He looked at me, but only for a second. "Of course I have my license. They won't let you get one of these if you don't. I got it when I was thinking about moving."

Oh yes. The Year of Katie. We both remembered The Year of Katie. I didn't say anything else.

"Of course," Sam continued, putting the car into reverse, "I haven't actually driven since my driver's test, but I have an excellent memory."

He flew out of the space, then slammed the brakes to avoid hitting a car passing behind us. As we exited the parking garage, I hung onto the side of my door with all the strength in my right hand. If I were the kind of person who prayed, I'd have been doing so now.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from 33 Valentines by Stephanie Monahan, Adrien-Luc Sanders. Copyright © 2013 Stephanie Monahan. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Read More

Meet the Author

Stephanie Monahan received her degree in English Literature and Rhetoric from Binghamton University. In addition to reading and writing, she is passionate about the New York Giants, finding the perfect cup of chai tea, and her dog. Born and raised in upstate New York, Stephanie now lives in central Massachusetts with her husband.

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Write a Review

and post it to your social network

     

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews >

33 Valentines 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 13 reviews.
The_Pinecone_Moment More than 1 year ago
33 Valentines is a well-written, nicely paced romantic story with a lot of depth. There’s a compelling element of mystery to this story, too, with questions posed from the very beginning: why does Sophie hate February, and particularly Valentine’s Day, so much? How did her life get so off-track? Stephanie Monahan has a knack for giving us little morsels of information at just the right time, filling us in on bits of the characters’ pasts that help us see where they’re coming from. I ended up liking the characters even more as the book went on. There are a lot of funny moments in the book, but it also gets more serious at times, and I did find myself getting teary during at least one part. The characters seemed like they could be real people, and for me, this is important. I love it when I honestly feel like I’m rooting for a well-earned happy ending, and by the end of this novel, I was grinning like a fool.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love that the grammer and spelling were perfect. The story was well written and you got invovled with the charcters. But for me it was just so sad for whole story except the last few pages. I do not think should be cinsidered a funny book but that is just me, I mean other people found it funny but i did not
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I couldn't put the book down. Worth every penny plus some. I promise you won't be disapointed with 33 Valentines.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
shannschoice More than 1 year ago
Hilarious, sweet, romantic and touching, this book is absolutely delightful.  Sophie wants her 33rd year of life to be better than the years before.  She wants to take charge and make something of her life.  She decides to tell her best friend, Sam, her true feelings for him.  But when she reads an e-mail from him that says he’s found the perfect girl and they’re going out on Valentine’s Day, Sophie’s shock ends up putting her in the emergency room with a broken arm.  From there, it’s just one thing after another for our heroine, transpiring into a climactic ending that’s romantically sweet. The characters in this story are written with such detail, that you feel as though you’re living vicariously through them.  The intense chemistry between Sam and Sophie is fun, frustrating (as I started to yell at the book because she wouldn’t just tell him how she felt!), and romantic.  The secondary characters in the book are fun as well, as they add depth to an already entertaining life for Sophie.  The story is a perfect Valentine’s Day romance, a quick read, and one that I would highly recommend to anyone who loves a good contemporary romance.  Read by Marie for Cocktails and Books
HarlequinJunkie More than 1 year ago
33 Valentines by Stephanie Monahan is a quick read with lots of quirky humor and honesty. Sophie Parker lives in Boston, working a temp job at a flower shop. She once dreamed of being a singer and pianist but after a series of incidents, all happening in February, she finds herself lost in the day-to-day grind. She also finds herself falling for her longtime best friend Sam McDonald much to her dismay. She doesn't want their relationship to change by admitting her feelings but finds it increasingly difficult to act normally around him. The curse of February brings about another bunch of bad luck this year: she hurts herself and ends up in the hospital, her apartment has no heat, she feels alienated by her family; and Sam meets the perfect girl...and asks her out on Valentine's Day. The day that Sophie and Sam have shared for years, staying home and watching horror movies to thumb their nose at the "commercialized" holiday. She is unsure what to do and doesn't want to risk their friendship but decides to make her feelings known. I can relate to Sophie on many levels as I think most of us can. And not just with her frequent use of sarcasm! Since finishing college and moving to the city, she doesn't stay in close contact with her family. She thinks she's not a part of their lives anymore and feels as if they are moving forward while she's lost in the daily grind of work. She wants a meaningful career but doesn't know how to take the first step. And she has the complication of her feelings for Sam. Friends-to-lovers is an interesting storyline and the author does an excellent job of conveying the range of emotions Sophie goes through. It is done with a raw honesty that I appreciate and hope to see in her future stories as well.
NEP More than 1 year ago
Saying that Sophie doesn't care for February is a bit like saying that it can get a little hot in Texas over the summer. If Sophie had her way, February would be removed from the calendar, and January would fade directly into March. Her 33rd February gets off to a triumphantly grim start when she finds herself in the emergency room and is followed by other less than spectacular revelations as the month progresses. Her grim month becomes even more dismal when her best friend, Sam, gets a girlfriend...just in time for Sophie to realize he's more than a friend to her. But Sophie has good reason to dislike the month of February. As the story progresses, flashbacks reveal the reason Sophie hates the month...and also why she's following a path for her life she never planned. Definitely not your average romance, 33 Valentines has lovely balance of lighthearted moments combined with a real emotional depth as Sophie struggles to reconcile her past with her present. I'm definitely looking forward to reading Ms. Monahan's next work! I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review. I received no compensation for my review. (And...I loved it so much, I bought my mother a copy as soon as the book became available for sale.)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A wonderful lighthearted and witty book. I truly enjoyed it !
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A very sweet and at times funny love story. Wonderful read.
callieRF More than 1 year ago
excellent book--5 stars.
AllAboutEvelyn More than 1 year ago
"33 Valentines" starts out with a painful event for Sophie - she trips getting off of the bus and breaks her arm. But as the story progresses, you find out that she's equally as wounded that her best friend Sam - who she's realized she's in love with - has found his dream girl. She's convinced that the curse of February has struck again. We follow her through the shortest month of the year as she catalogs the memories of past Februaries in her mind to try to figure out what her problem is, and eventually we find out which February past event was so traumatic that it's spilled over into every month in her life and left her stagnant. But this is the February when she struggles to move past her fears to pursue her forgotten dreams. Monahan's given us a smart, funny contemporary novel that offers more than the usual girl pursues boy. We get to watch Sophie grow as a character. And she's already likeable and relatable enough from the beginning that she's an easy person to root for. It's a well-balanced read with realistic characters that combines the right notes of emotional backstory and romance. I look forward to seeing more from this author in the future!
DianeVanaskieMulligan More than 1 year ago
I received an advance copy of 33 Valentines and as soon as I began to read it I was hooked! It's a great debut novel. 33 Valentines is a fun, smart story set in Boston during the gloomy month of February. Sophie hates February and Valentine's Day, but not for the usual reasons a person might dislike a winter month or sappy holiday. When she finds out Sam, her boyfriend and dream guy, has a date on Valentine's Day with someone he describes as his dream girl, she thinks can't worse. Any good reader knows that as soon as it seems like things can't get worse, they do. Sophie is a charming character. She's witty and easy to relate to. In some ways she reminds me of Bridget Jones, funny, sweet, and not quite ready to be a grown up--even though she's 33 years old. I was rooting for her even when some of her actions made me want to talk some sense into her. The best part of 33 Valentines is how genuine it feels. Monahan portrays her characters with so much heart that they feel like real people, the kind of people you want to grab a cup of coffee with.