Every Summer After PDF AZW3 EPUB MOBI TXT Download

“A radiant debut.”—Emily Henry,#1 New York Times bestselling author of People We Meet on Vacation Named One of the Hottest Reads of Summer 2022 by Today ∙ Parade ∙ PopSugar ∙ USA Today ∙ SheReads ∙ BuzzFeed ∙ BookBub ∙ Bustle ∙and more!Six summers to fall in love. One moment to fall apart. A weekend to get it right. They say you can never go home again, and for Persephone Fraser, ever since she made the biggest mistake of her life a decade ago, that has felt too true. Instead of glittering summers on the lakeshore of her childhood, she spends them in a stylish apartment in the city, going out with friends, and keeping everyone a safe distance from her heart.Until she receives the call that sends her racing back to Barry’s Bay and into the orbit of Sam Florek—the man she never thought she’d have to live without.For six summers, through hazy afternoons on the water and warm summer nights working in his family’s restaurant and curling up together with books—medical textbooks for him and work-in-progress horror short stories for her—Percy and Sam had been inseparable. Eventually that friendship turned into something breathtakingly more, before it fell spectacularly apart. When Percy returns to the lake for Sam’s mother’s funeral, their connection is as undeniable as it had always been. But until Percy can confront the decisions she made and the years she’s spent punishing herself for them, they’ll never know whether their love might be bigger than the biggest mistakes of their past. Told over the course of six years and one weekend, Every Summer After is a big, sweeping nostalgic story of love and the people and choices that mark us forever.

Carley Fortune
May 10, 2022
320 pages

File Size: 26 MB
Available File Formats: PDF AZW3 DOCX EPUB MOBI TXT or Kindle audiobook Audio CD(Several files can be converted to each other)
Language: English, Francais, Italiano, Espanol, Deutsch, chinese

“Fortune’s debut novel is filled with nostalgia and heart. Percy and Sam’s history is compelling and nuanced, making the story fly by faster than the summer months themselves. Although just like the places we spend our summers, and the people we meet along the way, Percy and Sam just might stay in your heart far beyond the last page.”—USA Today“The magic and romance of summer is palpable.”—Popsugar”Every Summer After is a quintessential summer novel, full of longing and lost love, and hits on so many beloved tropes. You’ll want to gobble it up in one satisfying bite.”—BuzzFeed“Any book that begins with a cocktail and a heartbreak-induced haircut has a strong likelihood of being just the book for me, but Every Summer After outshone even my highest hopes. Fortune’s wit is sharp, her prose is gorgeous, and her characters thrum with the rare kind of life and breath we readers are constantly on the lookout for. This is a radiant debut that packs an emotional wallop.”—Emily Henry, #1 New York Times bestselling author of People We Meet on Vacation “A sweet story about second chances, and how the future we imagine for ourselves is never quite what it turns out to be.” —Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Book of Two Ways and Wish You Were Here“Carley Fortune perfects the nostalgia of young summer love and the choices that change us forever in Every Summer After, a smart and delightful novel that will tug on your heartstrings, and more than satisfy fans of Emily Henry. This is your next must-read beach-read from an exciting new voice. A total joy to devour!” —Ashley Audrain, New York Times bestselling author of The Push “Just like summer, I didn’t want this epic, nostalgic tale of youthful romance all grown up to end. Set in Ontario’s cottage country, one of my favourite places on earth, this tantalizing debut is a perfectly gorgeous summer love story fans of Jojo Moyes and Emily Henry should add to their wish lists immediately!”  —Marissa Stapley, bestselling author of Lucky“Set in Ontario’s idyllic cottage country, Carley Fortune’s debut, Every Summer After, follows a couple—Persephone (Percy) and Sam—as they navigate loss, broken promises, and unrequited love. In a “then/now” narrative spanning nearly two decades, Fortune deftly explores the push and pull of a relationship burdened by past mistakes and misunderstandings, and how it’s as much about choice as it is fate. Evocative and nostalgic, this novel is perfect for those who covet steamy summer dock days and second-chance love stories. I devoured it!” —Karma Brown, bestselling author of Recipe for a Perfect Wife“In the mood for summertime nostalgia (cottage summers, young crushes, sandy nights)? Carley Fortune brings those lakeshore towns and emotional memories to life in Every Summer After about haunting past choices and second-chance love.”—Parade“A spectacular debut…Alternating between the past and present, the story flawlessly conveys the lovers’ growth both together and apart, and the summery setting provides an idyllic backdrop to their path back to each other. Centered on redemption and forgiveness, this sweeping, heartfelt romance proves impossible to put down.”—Publishers Weekly(starred review)“Readers who enjoy a steamy love story in the mold of Jill Shalvis won’t be able to put this novel down.”—Booklist About the Author Carley Fortune is an award-winning Canadian journalist who’s worked as an editor for Refinery29, The Globe and Mail, Chatelaine, and Toronto Life. She lives in Toronto with her husband and two sons. Every Summer After is her first novel. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 Now The fourth cocktail had seemed like a good idea. So did the bangs, come to think of it. But now that I’m struggling to unlock my apartment door, I’m guessing I might regret that last spritz in the morning. Maybe the bangs, too. June told me breakup bangs were almost always a very bad choice when I sat in her chair for a cut today. But June wasn’t going to her friend’s engagement celebration, newly single, that night. Bangs were in order. It’s not that I’m still in love with my ex; I’m not. I never was. Sebastian is kind of a snob. An up-and-coming corporate lawyer, he wouldn’t have lasted one hour at Chantal’s party without scoffing at her choice of signature drink and referencing some pretentious article he read in the New York Times that declared Aperol spritzes “over.” Instead, he would pretend to study the wine list, ask the bartender annoying questions about terroir and acidity and, regardless of the answers, go with a glass of the most expensive red. It’s not that he has exceptional taste or knows a lot about wine; he doesn’t. He just buys expensive stuff to give the impression of being discerning. Sebastian and I were together for seven months, giving our relationship the distinction of being my longest-lasting one yet. In the end, he said he didn’t really know who I was. And he had a point. Before Sebastian, the guys I picked were up for a good time and didn’t seem to mind keeping things casual. By the time I met him, I figured being a serious adult meant I should find someone to get serious about. Sebastian fit the bill. He was attractive, well read, and successful, and despite being a bit pompous, he could talk to anyone about almost anything. But I still found it hard to share too many pieces of myself. I’d long ago learned to tamp down my tendency to let random thoughts spew unfiltered from my mouth. I thought I was doing a good job of giving the relationship a real chance, but in the end Sebastian recognized my indifference, and he was right. I didn’t care about him. I didn’t care about any of them. There was only the one. And that one is long gone. So I enjoy spending time with men, and I appreciate how sex gives me an escape ladder out of my mind. I like making men laugh, I like having company, I like taking a break from my vibrator once in a while, but I don’t get attached, and I don’t go deep. I’m still fumbling with my key-seriously, is something wrong with the lock?-when my phone buzzes in my purse. Which is weird. No one calls me this late. Actually, no one ever calls me, except for Chantal and my parents. But Chantal is still at her party and my parents are touring Prague and won’t be awake yet. The buzzing stops just as I get the door open and stumble into my small bachelor apartment. I check the mirror by the entrance to find my lipstick mostly smudged off but my bangs looking pretty phenomenal. Suck it, June. I begin to unfasten the strappy gold sandals I’m wearing, a dark sheet of hair falling over my face, when my phone starts up again. I dig it out of my purse and, one shoe off, make my way toward the couch, frowning at the “unknown name” message on the screen. Probably a wrong number. “Hello?” I ask, bending to take off the second sandal. “Is this Percy?” I stand upright so fast I have to hold on to the arm of the couch to steady myself. Percy. It’s a name nobody calls me anymore. These days I’m Persephone to almost everyone. Sometimes I’m P. But I’m never Percy. I haven’t been Percy for years. “Hello . . . Percy?” The voice is deep and soft. It’s one I haven’t heard in more than a decade, but so familiar I’m suddenly thirteen years old and slathered in SPF 45, reading paperbacks on the dock. I’m sixteen and peeling off my clothes to jump into the lake, naked and sticky after a shift at the Tavern. I’m seventeen and lying on Sam’s bed in a damp bathing suit, watching his long fingers move across the anatomy textbook he’s studying by my feet. Blood rushes hot to my face with a whoosh, and the steady, thick pumping of my heart invades my eardrums. I take a shaky breath and sit, stomach muscles seizing. “Yes,” I manage, and he lets out a long, relieved-sounding breath. “It’s Charlie.” Charlie. Not Sam. Charlie. The wrong brother. “Charles Florek,” Charlie clarifies, and begins explaining how he tracked down my number-something about a friend of a friend and a connection at the magazine where I work-but I’m barely listening. “Charlie?” I interrupt. My voice is high-pitched and tight, one part spritz and two parts shock. Or maybe all parts total disappointment. Because this voice does not belong to Sam. But of course it doesn’t. “I know, I know. It’s been a long time. God, I don’t even know how long,” he says, and it sounds like an apology. But I do. I know exactly how long. I keep count. It’s been twelve years since I’ve seen Charlie. Twelve years since that catastrophic Thanksgiving weekend when everything between Sam and me fell apart. When I tore everything apart. I used to count the number of days until my family would head up to the cottage so I could see Sam again. Now he’s a painful memory I keep hidden deep beneath my ribs. I also know I’ve gone more years without Sam than I spent with him. I had a panic attack, my first in ages, then drank my way through a bottle and a half of rosé the Thanksgiving that marked seven years since I’d spoken to him. It felt monumental: I’d officially been without him for more years than we’d had together at the lake. I’d cried in ugly, heaving sobs on the bathroom tiles until I passed out. Chantal came over the next day with greasy takeout and held my hair back as I puked, tears streaming down my face, and I told her everything. “It’s been forever,” I tell Charlie. “I know. And I’m sorry to call you so late,” he says. He sounds so much like Sam it hurts, as if there’s a lump of dough lodged in my throat. I remember when we were fourteen and it was almost impossible to tell him apart from Charlie on the phone. I remember noticing other things about Sam that summer, too. “Listen, Pers. I’m calling with some news,” he says, using the name he used to call me but sounding much more serious than the Charlie I once knew. I hear him breathe in through his nose. “Mom passed away a few days ago, and I . . . well, I thought you’d want to know.” His words slam into me like a tsunami, and I struggle to fully understand them. Sue’s dead? Sue was young. All I can get out is a ragged-sounding “What?” Charlie sounds exhausted when he replies. “Cancer. She’d been fighting it for a couple of years. We’re devastated, of course, but she was sick of being sick, you know?” And not for the first time, it feels like someone stole the script to my life story and wrote it all wrong. It seems impossible that Sue was sick. Sue, with her big smile and her denim cutoffs and her white-blond ponytail. Sue, who made the best pierogies in the universe. Sue, who treated me like a daughter. Sue, who I dreamed one day might be a mother-in-law to me. Sue, who was sick for years without me knowing. I should have known. I should have been there. “I’m so, so sorry,” I begin. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. Your mom was . . . she was . . .” I sound panicked, I can hear it. Hold it together, I tell myself. You lost rights to Sue a long time ago. You are not allowed to fall apart right now. I think about how Sue raised two boys on her own while running the Tavern, and about the first time I met her, when she came over to the cottage to assure my much older parents that Sam was a good kid and that she would keep an eye on us. I remember when she taught me how to hold three plates at once and the time she told me not to take crap from any boy, including her own two sons. “She was . . . everything,” I say. “She was such a good mom.” “She was. And I know she meant a lot to you when we were kids. That’s sort of why I’m calling,” says Charlie, tentative. “Her funeral is on Sunday. I know it’s been a long time, but I think you should be there. Will you come?” A long time? It’s been twelve years. Twelve years since I’ve made the drive north to the place that was more like home to me than anywhere else has been. Twelve years since I dove, headfirst, into the lake. Twelve years since my life crashed spectacularly off course. Twelve years since I’ve seen Sam. But there’s only one answer. “Of course I will.” 2 Summer, Seventeen Years Ago I don’t think my parents knew when they bought the cottage that two adolescent boys lived in the house next door. Mom and Dad wanted to give me an escape from the city, a break from other kids my age, and the Florek boys, who went unsupervised for long stretches of the afternoons and evenings, were probably as big a surprise to them as they were to me. A few of the kids in my class had summer homes, but they were all in Muskoka, just a short drive north from the city, where the word cottage didn’t seem quite right for the waterfront mansions that lined the area’s rocky shores. Dad flat-out refused to look in Muskoka. He said if we bought a cottage there, we might as well stay in Toronto for the summer-it was too close to the city and too full of Torontonians. So he and Mom focused their search on rural communities further northeast, which Dad declared too developed or too overpriced, and then further still until finally they settled on Barry’s Bay, a sleepy, working-class village that transformed into a bustling tourist town in the summer, sidewalks bursting with cottagers and European sightseers on their way to camp or hike in Algonquin Provincial Park. “You’ll love it there, kiddo,” he promised. “It’s the real cottage country.” I would eventually look forward to the four-hour drive from our Tudor in midtown Toronto to the lake, but that first trip spanned an eternity. Entire civilizations rose and fell by the time we passed the “Welcome to Barry’s Bay” sign, Dad and I in the moving truck and Mom following behind in the Lexus. Unlike Mom’s car, the truck had neither a decent sound system nor air-conditioning, and I was stuck listening to the monotonous hum of CBC Radio, the backs of my thighs glued to the vinyl bench and my bangs plastered to my clammy forehead. Almost all the girls in my grade seven class got bangs after Delilah Mason did, though they didn’t suit the rest of us as well. Delilah was the most popular girl in our grade, and I considered myself lucky to be one of her closest friends. Or at least I used to, but that was before the sleepover incident. Her bangs formed a neat red valance over her forehead while mine defied both gravity and styling products, jutting out in odd poufs and angles, making me look every bit the awkward thirteen-year-old I was, rather than the mysterious dark-eyed brunette I wanted to be. My hair was neither straight nor curly and seemed to change its personality based on an unpredictable number of factors, from the day of the week to the weather to the way I slept the night before. Whereas I would do anything I could to make people like me, my hair refused to fall in line.  Winding down the bushland on the western shore of Kamaniskeg Lake, Bare Rock Lane was a narrow dirt road that lived up to its name. The drive Dad turned down was so overgrown that branches scraped the sides of the small truck. “Smell that, kiddo?” Dad asked, rolling down his window as we bumped along in the truck. Together we inhaled deeply, and the scent of long-fallen pine needles filled my nostrils, earthy and medicinal. We pulled up to the back door of a modest wood A-frame cabin that was dwarfed by the white and red pines that grew around it. Dad shut off the engine and turned to me, a smile below his graying mustache and eyes crinkling under dark-rimmed glasses, and said, “Welcome to the lake, Persephone.” The cottage had this incredible smoky-wood smell. Somehow it never faded, even after years of Mom burning her expensive Diptyque candles. Each time I returned, I’d stand at the entrance, breathing it in, just like I did that first day. The main floor was a small open space, covered floor to ceiling in pale planks of knotted wood. Massive windows opened onto an almost obnoxiously stunning view of the lake. “Wow,” I murmured, spotting a staircase leading from the deck and down a steep hill. “Not bad, huh?” Dad patted me on the shoulder. “I’m going to check out the water,” I said, already darting out the side door, which closed behind me with an enthusiastic thwack. I fled down dozens of steps until I reached the dock. It was a humid afternoon, every inch of sky carpeted by thick gray clouds that were mirrored in the still, silver water below. I could barely make out the cottages that dotted the far shore. I wondered if I could swim across it. I sat on the edge of the dock, legs dangling in the water, shocked at how quiet it was, until Mom yelled down for me to help unpack. We were tired and cranky from moving boxes and fighting off mosquitoes by the time we unloaded the truck. I left Mom and Dad to get the kitchen organized and headed upstairs. There were two bedrooms; my parents forfeited the lakeside one to me, saying that since I spent more time in my room, I’d make better use of the view. I unpacked my clothes, made the bed, and folded a Hudson’s Bay blanket at the end. Dad didn’t think we needed such heavy wool blankets in summer, but Mom insisted on having one for each bed. Read more <div id="

  • The book it’s the cover, young love, sunny days at the lake, making memories, discovering…I loved it so much that couldn’t stopped reading it! The way their love story was builded and how it ends, all make sense, the years apart, I confess that I found so hard to forgive at happened… the feeling that she wasn’t good enough is justified. But in the end and how it ended, it make it up, I can imagine this happing, the forgiveness and the moving on, well, I loved how it was written and I’ll keep an eye on Carley Fortune for sure!
  • This book was soooo incredible. My heart feels like literal mush. This is a wonderful story about best friends who fall in love as kids. Who hurt each other as they grow up. Who avoided their issues in the past. But who grow up and come back together in an effort to heal. It’s an inspiring romance and I feel so fulfilled with the entire thing. This is an absolute must-read!
  • Loved this summer romance! The relationship between Sam & Percy was refreshing. Sam was such a good guy and a great friend to Percy. The twist and turns all made it a fun easy read. I couldn’t put it down and that says a lot!
  • I cannot believe this is Carley Fortune’s 1st book- she has me wrapped around several fingers from the start. So much love and hurt and beauty and ugliness-I highly recommend!
  • This book was unbelievable! I loved it from beginning to end! I loved the characters and the plot and I felt all the feels! I have read so many amazing books this year and this is by far my favourite!
  • Oh my goodness – I have no idea how to rate this book!For much of the first part, it felt like it nestled into my heart, tugging on the heartstrings that reminded me of my own coming of age years, my first love, and all the chaotic emotion that came with it. The intensity of the experience. The messiness of learning to navigate your heart and unfamiliar feelings. The dramatic friendships and just the way everything felt like so much back then.I loved Percy and Sam a lot for so much of this book. I loved the sweet friendship they formed and how easy and natural they were together. I loved the slow awakening of their feelings for each other and even the sweet first steps they made.But then, it kind of went off the rails for me. It got messy. And then it got ~really~ messy. For a while I didn’t really know if I liked either one of these characters. And after that I wasn’t so sure their relationship was healthy or good for either one of them. It stopped feeling good. And for me, honestly, it never really started feeling good again after that.Yes, there is a happy ending, and there were moments along the way that really did fill my heart. In the past and the present there were these bits of sweetness and/or tenderness that really resonated. But when I turned the last page of the book, I didn’t feel the happy ending. The joy of Percy and Sam’s reconciliation wasn’t big enough to overcome the issue that tore them apart for me. I don’t know. I needed something more to get over the hump of how icky I felt for the almost the entire second half of the book. The story is settled, but my heart is not and I honestly don’t know what to do with that.All that said, this was a really well-written book. The writing and the storytelling are so engaging that I fell into it effortlessly and by the time it started slicing my heart to bits, there was no way I was going to turn back. I also felt like it was authentic, it was very real (and the messiness of that might be one of the things my heart can’t get over). It’s a good book and I think it’s going to hit home for a lot of readers. In the end, it just didn’t treat my heart the way my heart wants to be treated. ~ 3.5 Stars
  • Every Summer After by Carley FortuneI love the cover of this book because that’s how it starts, a boy and a girl, thirteen years old, meet and become best friends, spending holidays and summers together, thinking of each other when they aren’t with each other. They even wear friendship bracelets that Percy made, Sam never takes his off. I felt like their two houses, next door to each other, were real places that I could actually visit. That I could walk out of either door and walk down to the docks and jump into the lake.Sam and Percy meet when Percy’s parents buy the lake cabin next door to the house where Sam lives year round, with his mom and his brother, Charlie. Percy wants to be a writer someday and Sam reads what she writes and encourages her to keep on writing. Sam wants to be a doctor someday, driven by the cardio problems that caused his father’s early death. Then there is Charlie, two years older than Sam, always wise cracking, always with a girlfriend or two or three.But something happened when Sam and Percy were eighteen and they never spoke again. Now, twelve years later, Sam and Charlie’s mom has died and Charlie has asked her to come to the funeral. Percy loved their mother, she was like a second mother to her, so she goes back to Barry Bay, despite the fact that she is going to see Sam again. She needs to apologize to him for what she did that caused her to walk away from him. The guilt has been with her all these years and she knows she needs to confess to him what she’s done.The story starts with the present and then takes us back over the six years that Sam and Percy had together as best friends and more. We go back and forth from the present to those six years where we watch their relationship evolve, until it falls apart, leaving Percy shattered and unable to have a meaningful relationship with anyone else. Sam, Charlie, and Percy seem so real and my heart ached for them. The alternating timelines worked very well here and I didn’t even mind that there was this big secret of Percy’s that isn’t revealed to us until almost the end of the story. This is about friendship, romance, and family and about not ever being able to let go. It’s a very satisfying story and it felt so very real.Thank you to Berkley and NetGalley for this ARC.
  • I loved this book, it had everyting I love to read about. I loved how they became friends from a young age and it turned into something more.
  • This book was amazing! I am so happy I stumbled upon it. It gave me all the summer feeling and the story was sooo bitter sweet! I was a bit afraid about the „betrayal“ that was referred to all the time but although it was heart breaking I could relate why she did what she did! It was such a beautifully written story!!!The only thing I was not happy about was the epilogue. It felt a bit rushed and not very romantic.
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