Diana in Love: A Dirty Diana Novel

Diana in Love: A Dirty Diana Novel

The second book in the sensational Dirty Diana series—based on the #1 fiction podcast Traveling to Paris, Diana Wood reconnects with the man from her past who’s haunted her memories and ignited her imagination. Will this trip help her to reclaim the wild, sensual woman she used to be? Diana has thrown her life in the garbage disposal and flipped the switch. Everything is a mess. After years of watching her safe, steady marriage grow strained, she and her husband, Oliver, decided to separate. Now he’s embarked on a new career and what seems to be a satisfying dating life, while she’s eating cereal for dinner in an empty kitchen. When she’s invited on a trip to Paris, she jumps at the opportunity—only later realizing that Jasper, the seductive, elusive man from her past, might be there, too. He once lit her up in every way; will her dimmed lights shine again if she and Jasper reconnect in the City of Love? In Paris, Diana indulges every desire—culinary, artistic, and sensual. But no vacation lasts forever. When she returns to Dallas, she must confront the still-raw feelings she has for her husband and decide once and for all: Is it possible to be the spontaneous, creative, fully alive woman she recently rediscovered? “Diana Wood’s quest to reignite her sensual past while navigating the confines of her current marriage is funny and sexy​. Dirty Diana is a wildly entertaining novel—​perfect for anyone who loved The Idea of You .” —Renée Carlino bestselling author of Before We Were Strangers and This Used to be Us   Lifelong best friends Jen Besser and Shana Feste met as eleven-year-olds in California and have been collaborating ever since. Dirty Diana, first launched as a podcast starring Demi Moore, debuted at #1 on Apple, was nominated for Podcast of the Year, and won the Ambie for Best Fiction, Screenwriting. Shana is the award-winning screenwriter and director of several feature films, including Country Strong and Run Sweetheart Run . Jen is a fiction editor and publisher. They now live thousands of miles apart and talk every day. Chapter One L’Wren pulls up to the valet outside the Hunt Gallery and we take in the chic crowd. “Who is this guy again?” Well-­dressed partygoers have spilled out onto the sidewalk. They don’t look the way I had imagined they would—­they’re older, and if not dripping with wealth, definitely sturdy with it. “Thanks for being here.” “Of course. What are best friends for? But really, who is this guy?” “An old friend from New Mexico,” I say. “He wasn’t quite this popular when we knew each other.” I fix my lipstick one last time in the mirror, my pulse quickening at the idea of seeing Jasper again. I think about all the ways I’ll play it cool—­Inhale: This was a good idea. Exhale: This was a terrible idea. . . . Jasper, the first love of my life, whom I had not seen in almost fifteen years, got in touch last week. He was in town. We met for a coffee. And it’s had me rattled all week. I wasn’t prepared to see him, for one thing. I thought I was meeting a business contact, a sort of blind setup arranged by my friend Alicia. When I looked up and saw Jasper, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He was taller than I remembered, with longer legs and broader shoulders. When he sat across from me, the table and everything on it seemed to shrink. My mind raced, trying to figure out how and why he was there, right in front of me—­but all my brain could conjure in that moment was a memory, from over a decade ago: the two of us lying in bed, Jasper asking if I liked the way the afternoon light fell across our naked bodies. “Diana.” Jasper’s smile was warm and unhurried. “Thanks for taking the meeting.” He rested his elbows on the table, his face in his hands. “Alicia and I thought it would be a fun surprise. And it seemed like a really clever idea until about a minute ago when I was standing outside and saw you through the window.” At the thought of him watching me, the tips of my ears burned. I wished I had brushed my hair this morning instead of pulling it into a messy topknot. I wished I was wearing something sexier than an old blue T-­shirt of Oliver’s. “Well.” I smiled. I could only laugh. There he was: deep brown eyes, dark hair, rosy lips. “It is a surprise.” I’d pictured Jasper so many times over the years, but always resisted the urge to look him up. Now that he was in front of me, I realized how uninspired my imagination had been—­I’d left out all his familiar dimensions and I’d forgotten how exciting it is, the feeling, exactly, of being near a body that holds all its energy right at the surface. Mr. Art Throb. Those playful eyes. The smooth skin and rugged good looks. He tipped back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head, charisma fully intact. “I tried to call you, you know. When I got back from that first London trip. But your number was disconnected.” That was so long ago that, sitting across from him, I honestly couldn’t remember i