**GIVEAWAY** Interview/Review If You Only Knew - Kristan Higgins

I'm so happy to be hosting one of my all time favorite authors as part of her blog tour, please welcome the fabulous Kristan Higgins. She's here answering a few questions about the economy, the state of the union, ;-) okay not really – she's here talking about her brand new, just out today, novel, If You Only Knew.
Enjoy our conversation a short excerpt then her wonderful publicist, Little Bird Publicity is sponsoring a giveaway of one print copy US ONLY of her new book, details below.
And be sure to check out Kristan's website for a list of where she's going on her book tour, I'll be meeting her in person at my local library in just a week and I'm still pinching myself.

ISBN-13: 9780373784974
Publisher: Harlequin
Release Date: 08/25/2015
Length: 416pp
Buy It: B&N/Amazon/Kobo/Indiebound/Audible

Overview

The drama, hilarity and tears of sisterhood are at the heart of the thoroughly captivating new novel by New York Times bestselling author Kristan Higgins—a funny, frank and bittersweet look at marriage, forgiveness and moving on

Letting go of her ex-husband is harder than wedding-dress designer Jenny Tate expected…especially since his new wife wants to be Jenny's new best friend. Sensing this isn't exactly helping her achieve closure, Jenny trades the Manhattan skyline for her hometown up the Hudson, where she'll start her own business and bask in her sister Rachel's picture-perfect family life…and maybe even find a little romance of her own with Leo, her downstairs neighbor, a guy who's utterly irresistible and annoyingly distant at the same time.

Giveaway is for one print copy
US ONLY of
If You Only Knew by Kristan Higgins
please use Rafflecopter form below to enter
Thanks Little Bird Publicity
Good Luck!

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

Jenny

Today is one of those days when I realize that staying friends with my ex- husband was a huge mistake.

I’m at the baby shower for Ana-Sofia, Owen’s wife and my replacement. Indeed, I’m sitting next to her, a place of honor in this circle of beaming well- wishers, and I’m probably beaming just as hard as everyone else. Harder, even, my Gosh, isn’t it wonderful, she’s so radiant smile that I give at work quite often, especially as my brides get bitchier or their mothers get more critical or their maids of honor get more jealous. But this smile, the baby shower smile…this is superhuman, really.

I know that coming today is incredibly pathetic, don’t worry. It’s just that I didn’t want to seem bitter by not showing up (though I’m pretty sure I am bitter, at least a little). After all, I’m the one who always wanted kids. Every time I brought it up, though, Owen said he wasn’t sure the time was right, and he loved our life the way it was.

Yeah. So. That turned out not to be quite true, but we did stay friends. Coming today, though…pathetic.

However, I woke up this morning utterly starving, and I knew the food would be amazing at the shower. Ana-Sofia inspires people. Plus, I’m moving out of the city, so for the past three weeks, I’ve been trying to eat or give away every morsel of food in my apartment. Let’s also mention that I couldn’t figure out an excuse that people

would buy. Better to be an oddity here than Poor Jenny at home, scrounging through a box of Wheat-Thins of indeterminate age.

Ana-Sofia opens my gift, which is wrapped in Christmas paper, despite it being April. Liza, my host, glowers; the red and green cocoa-swilling Santas are an affront to the party vibe, which Liza noted on the invitations. In an effort to create a beautiful and harmonious environment for Ana-Sofia, please adhere to the apricot and sage color scheme in your clothing and gift-wrapping choices. Only in Manhattan, folks. I’m wearing a purple dress as a middle finger to Liza, who used to be my friend but now posts daily on FB that she’s LOL-ing with her BFF, Ana-Sofia.

“Oh! This is so lovely! Thank you, Jenny! Everyone, look at this! It’s beautiful!” Ana-Sofia holds up my gift, and there are gasps and murmurs and exclamations and a few glares that I have the best present here. I cock an eyebrow at the haters. Suck  it up, bitches. My gift was actually dashed off last night, as I kind of forgot to buy a present, but they don’t have to know that.

It’s a white satin baby blanket with leaves and trees and birds stitched into it. Hey. It only took me two hours. Nothing was hand-stitched. It wasn’t that big a deal.

I sew for a living. A wedding dress designer. The irony is not lost on me, don’t worry. “Couldn’t you have just bought a stuffed animal like a normal person?”

murmurs the person on my left. Andreas (born Andrew), my assistant, and the only man here. Gay, of course—do straight men work in designer bridal wear? Also, he hates and fears children, which makes him the perfect date for me under the circumstances. I needed an ally.

Have I mentioned that the shower is held in the apartment I once shared with

Owen? Where, so far as I could tell, he and I were extremely happy? Yes. Liza is hosting, but the power went out in her apartment, thanks to the ham-fisted construction crew installing her new glass countertops (granite being so very last decade), and so we’re here instead. Liza is sweaty and loud, rightfully worried about being judged on her prowess as hostess. This is the Upper East Side, after all. We’re all about judgment here.

The gifts (including mine) border on the ridiculous. The shower invitation

(engraved from Crane’s) asked, at the behest of the parents, for donations to the clean-well-water charity Ana-Sofia founded—Gushing.Org, the name of which brings to mind a particularly bad menstrual period, but which raises funds for wells in Africa. Yeah. Therefore, everyone donated fat checks and tried to outdo themselves with gifts. There’s a Calder mobile. A 1918 edition of Mother Goose stories. A mohair Steiff teddy bear that costs about as much as the rent on my soon-to-be former apartment in the Village.

My gaze drifts across the now-tastefully furnished apartment. When I lived here, it was cozier and Bo-Ho—fat, comfortable furniture, dozens of pictures of my three nieces, the occasional wall hanging from Target, that bastion of color and joy for the middle class. Now, the décor is incredibly tasteful, with African masks on the wall to remind us what Ana-Sofia does, and original paintings from around the globe. The walls are painted those boring, neutral colors with sexy names—October Fog, Birmingham Cream, Icicle.

There’s their wedding photo. They eloped, so thank God I didn’t have to go to that (or, God forbid, make her gown, which I would’ve done if asked, because I’m

still pretty pitiful where Owen is concerned and can’t figure out how to divorce him out of my heart). Though the photo was taken by the justice of the peace in Maine, it’s perfect. Both bride and groom are laughing, slightly turned away from the camera, Ana’s hair blowing in the sea breeze. The New York Times featured the photo in the Sunday Vows section.

They really are the perfect couple. Once, it was Owen and me, and while I

didn’t expect perfection, I thought we were pretty great. We never fought. My mom felt that since Owen is half Japanese, he was a better bet than “those simpletons” I dated (all of whom I hoped to marry at one point or another, starting with Nico Stephanopolous in eighth grade). “The Japanese don’t believe in divorce,” Mom said the first time I introduced her. “Right, Owen?”

He agreed, and I can still see his omnipresent, sweet smile, the Dr. Perfect Smile, as I called it. It’s his resting expression. Very reassuring to his patients, I’m sure. Owen is a plastic surgeon, the kind who fixes cleft palates and birthmarks and changes the lives of his patients. Ana-Sofia, who is from Peru and speaks five languages, met Owen eleven weeks after our divorce when he was doing his annual stint with Doctors Without Borders in the Sudan and she was digging wells.

And I make wedding dresses, as I believe I’ve already said. Listen. It’s not as

shallow as it sounds. I make women look like they dreamed they would on one of the happiest days of their lives. I make them cry at their own reflections, I give them the dress they’ve spent years thinking about, the dress they’ll be wearing when they pledge their hearts, the dress they’ll pass onto their own daughters someday, the dress that signifies all their hopes and dreams for a happy, sparkling future.

But compared with what Owen and his second wife do, yeah, it’s incredibly shallow.

In theory, I should hate them both. No, he didn’t cheat with her. He’s far too decent for that.

He loves her, though. Ostensibly, I could hate him for loving her and not me. Make no mistake. I was heartbroken. But I can’t hate Owen, or Ana-Sofia. They’re too damn nice, which is incredibly inconsiderate of them.

And being Owen’s friend is better than being without Owen entirely.

The quilt has made the rounds of admiration and is passed back to Ana. She strokes it tenderly, then looks at me with tears in her eyes. “I don’t have the words to tell you how much this means.”

Oh, shut up, I want to say. I forgot to buy you a gift and dashed this off last night with some leftover Duchess satin. It’s no big deal.

“Hey, no worries,” I say. I’m often glib and stupid around Ana-Sofia. Andreas

hands me another cream puff. I may have to give him a raise.

“I’m so excited about your new shop,” Ana says. “Owen and I were talking about how talented you are just last night.”

Andreas gives me a significant look and rolls his eyes. He has no problem hating Ana-Sofia and Owen, which I appreciate. I smile and take another sip of my mimosa, which is made with blood oranges and really good champagne.

If I’m ever pregnant, though the chances of that are plummeting by the hour, I imagine I’ll have the unenviable “I sat on an air hose” look that my sister had when she was percolating the triplets. There was no glow. There was acne. Stretch marks

that made her look as if she’d been mauled by a Bengal tiger. She gnashed on Tums and burped constantly, but in true Rachel fashion, my sister never complained.

Ana-Sofia glows. Her perfect olive skin is without a blemish or, indeed, a visible pore. Her boobs look fantastic, and though she is eight and a half months pregnant, her baby bump is modest and perfectly round. She has no cankles. Life is so unfair.

“We just found out that our daughter’s classmate is her half-brother,” says

the taller woman in Lesbian Couple #1. One of them just became a partner in Owen’s practice, but I don’t remember her name. “Imagine if we hadn’t known that! She could’ve ended up dating her half-brother! Marrying him! The fertility clinic gave  out fourteen samples of that donor’s sperm. We’re filing a lawsuit.”

“It’s better than adopting,” says another woman. “My sister? She and her husband had to give back their son the fourth time he set fire to the living room.”

“That’s not so bad. My cousin adopted, and then the birth mother came out of

rehab and the judge gave her custody of the baby. After two years, mind you.”

On the other side of the circle, there seems to be a heated debate over whose labor and delivery was most grueling. “I almost died,” one woman says proudly. “I looked at my husband and told him I loved him, and the next thing I knew, the crash cart was there…”

“I was in labor for three days,” another states. “I was like a wild animal, clawing at the sheets.”

“Emergency cesarean eight weeks early, no anesthesia,” someone else says proudly. “My daughter weighed two pounds. NICU, fifty-seven days.”

And we have a winner! The other mothers shoot her resentful looks. Talk turns to food allergies, vaccines, family beds and the sad dearth of gifted and talented programs for preschoolers.

“This is fun,” I murmur to Ana-Sofia.

“Oh, yes,” she says. Irony is not one of her skills. “I’m so glad you are here, Jenny. Thank you for giving up your afternoon! You must be very busy with the move.”

“You’re moving?” one of her extremely beautiful and well-educated friends asks. “Where?”

“Cambry-on-Hudson,” I answer. “I grew up there. My sister and her family are—“

“Oh, my God, you’re leaving Manhattan? Will you have to get a car? Are there any restaurants there? I couldn’t live without Zenyasa Yoga.”

“You still go to Zenyasa?” someone says. “I’ve moved on. It’s Bikram Hot for

me. I saw Neil Patrick Harris there last week.”

“I don’t do yoga anymore,” a blond woman says, studying a raspberry. “I joined a trampoline studio over on Amsterdam. Sarah Jessica Parker told me about it.”

“What about brunch?” someone asks me, her brow wrinkling in concern. “What will you do for brunch if you leave the city?”

“I think brunch is illegal outside Manhattan,” I answer gravely. No one laughs. They may think I’m telling the truth.

Now granted, I love Manhattan. To paraphrase the song, if you make it here,

the rest of the world is a cake walk. And I have made it here. I’ve worked for the best—even Vera Wang, as a matter of fact. My work is sold at Kleinfeld’s and has supported me for fifteen years. I was named one of the Designers of the Year when I was at Parson’s. I’ve been to not one but two parties at Tim Gunn’s place. He greeted me by name (and yes, he’s as nice as he seems).

But while I love the city, its roar, its buildings and smells, its subways and

skyline, in my heart of hearts, I want a yard. I want to see my nieces more often. I want the happily ever after that my sister nailed, that’s unfolding for my ex-husband and his too-nice wife.

I hope I’m running to something, not away. The truth is, work has felt a little flat lately.

Cambry-on-Hudson is a lovely little city about an hour north of Manhattan. It has several excellent restaurants (some even serve brunch, shockingly). The downtown has a movie theater, flowering trees, a park and a Williams-Sonoma. It’s hardly a third-world country, no matter what these women think. And the latest shop is Bliss. Custom-made wedding gowns. My baby, in lieu of the human kind.

My phone beeps softly with a text. It’s from Andreas, who has put in his ear

buds in order to drown out the stories of blocked milk ducts and bleeding nipples. Check out the nose on the great-aunt. I hope the baby inherits that. I smile at him gratefully.

“Did you hear about the obstetrician who fathered fifty-nine babies?” someone asks.

“That was an episode on Law & Order.”

“Ripped from the headlines,” someone else murmurs. “Someone in my building was one of his patients.”

“Oh. Oh, dear,” Ana-Sofia says.

I turn to her. She looks a bit startled. “It’s probably not true,” I tell her. “No…I think…it appears my water has broken.”

There is a silence, followed by a collective roar.

I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that, despite there being a dozen women who’ve given birth all jockeying for position, my hand is the one Ana-Sofia clutches. “Oh, Jenny, it’s happening,” she says, and her beautiful brown eyes are wide and terrified, and then I’m easing her onto the floor and crouched between her still- slim thighs (she’s maintained her bikini wax, FYI). Off with the thong (really, it’s like she’s showing off), and holy Mother of God, I can see the head.

I fumble in my purse for the travel-size Purell (if you ride the subways on a daily basis, you carry Purell). Slap some on my hands. “Get some towels and quiet down!” I bark at the other shower guests. I’m kind of good in emergencies. Liza hands me a stack of towels (very soft and about to be ruined by whatever comes out of a woman during childbirth).

“Let me help,” Liza whines. Indeed, this would make a great Facebook post.

Just delivered my BFF’s baby, LOL! –with Ana-Sofia Marquez-Takahashi.

“I need to push,” Ana pants, and she does, once, twice, a third time, and a face appears (a baby! there’s a baby coming into my hands!). One more push, and I’m holding it, slimy and covered in white gunk and a little blood and incredibly beautiful.

Dark hair, huge eyes. A miracle.

I ease her out all the way and put her on Ana’s chest. “It’s a girl,” I say, covering the baby with a towel.

Then FDNY clomps in, and I entertain a quick and deeply satisfying fantasy—

The head firefighter is filled with admiration for my cleverness, checks me out and asks me to dinner in the cutest Brooklyn accent the world has ever heard. His biceps flex hypnotically, and at the end of the date, yes, he does pick me up to demonstrate just how easy it would be for him to save my life, and a few years later, we have three strong sons and twin daughters on the way. And a Dalmatian.

But no, their attention is quite taken with Ana-Sofia (as it should be, I guess, though it would be nice if just one of them checked me out). Someone cuts the cord, and Ana is weeping beautifully over her daughter, and Liza holds her phone to Ana’s ear so my ex-husband can sob his love and admiration for his wife, who just set the land-speed record for labor and delivery.

From down the hall, I can hear Andreas dry-heaving in the tastefully decorated powder room over the murmurs of admiration from the shower guests and the brawny firefighters as they tell Ana how amazing she is, how beautiful her daughter is.

Seems like I’m leaving the city in the very nick of time.

Please welcome the amazing, fabulous Kristan Higgins back to the blog to chat with me about her newest novel, If You Only Knew.

Hellooo, Deb and the Reading Frenzy Regulars! Thank you so much for having me today!

Give my readers the cliff-notes version of the novel.

Sisters Jenny and Rachel Tate are both facing a crossroad. Jenny, a wedding dress designer, is opening her own shop in her hometown of Cambry-on-Hudson, New York, leaving the glittering skyline of Manhattan—and her ex-husband—behind. It’s not good for Jenny to be always hovering around the edges of Owen’s new and improved life, and the fact that his current wife is so stinking nice doesn’t help matters. Add to that their perfect baby, and yeah, Jenny needs to move on. She decides that Leo, her downstairs neighbor and the inept super of her building, might be the guy to help her with that, despite his claims of being off-limits.

Rachel is thrilled to have her sister back, and Jenny comes in the nick of time. Hardworking stay-at-home mommy to three-year-old triplets, Rachel thought she was immune to the problems so many marriages face, since she worked so hard at creating the perfect home, perfect family. But her husband seems to be sexting with a coworker, and Rachel’s paralyzed. Does she leave Adam and the life she worked so hard and long to get? Is her marriage worth a second chance, or is she just kidding herself?

Kristan I’m so excited that just a few days after this post goes live I’ll be meeting you for the first time and I can scratch one more thing off my bucket list :-)
I know that traveling is not the joy it used to be so what’s the best thing about doing a book tour for you?

I love traveling! Maybe it’s because we didn’t move when I was a kid, maybe because I live in my hometown, but I really love seeing a new place and imagining what it’s like to live there. The best part of the book tour, though, is the readers! It’s so thrilling and exciting and humbling at the same time…these folks are here to see me, the overlooked middle child, to buy my book, to talk about what they love to read. It’s like walking into a room of friends you haven’t met yet. The bookstore owners usually have to drag me out, it’s so much fun.

Do you tour with every book, if not how do you choose?

Not with every book; it’s relatively new to me. I did a book tour with a bunch of authors early in my career, and I did one for IN YOUR DREAMS last year. I’m always game, but the decision comes from my publisher.

One of the many things that make your novels stand out for me is the side stories that you incorporate into your main menu and this is no different. 
Do your side stories ever get novels of their-own?

That’s happened a couple of times. Parker Welles, the heroine of SOMEBODY TO LOVE, was a side character in THE NEXT BEST THING. I hadn’t really planned on writing her story, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. She seemed to have it all—a great kid, a fabulous career, plenty of money—but she was single, and not even looking. I figured there was a reason why.

It also happened with Colleen and Connor O’Rourke, the twins who own O’Rourke’s Tavern in the Blue Heron series. Originally, I was only going to write three books set in Manningsport—one for Faith, one for Honor, one for Jack. But I just adored Colleen and wanted to know more about her. And once I wrote her story, I had to write Connor’s, too. His book comes out in December—ANYTHING FOR YOU.

Kristan I love the humility and vulnerability traits you instill in your characters. This novel stars a seemingly unsuited for each other couple each with enough baggage for an around the world cruise.
Which character in this novel misbehaved the most for you?

Ha! Yes, they have baggage, don’t they? Jenny was challenging to write…The mix of vulnerability, intelligence and optimism is hard to pull off. I didn’t want her to seem weak, still hung up on her ex, but she was still hung up on her ex, wasn’t she? She has a huge heart, so it goes with the territory. It was fun to see how her take on her marriage changed the further away from Owen she got.

But it was Leo who was the trickiest. What woman wouldn’t be madly in love with him? He’s so honest with Jenny, and he’s clearly loves being around her, but he keeps her at arm’s length while flirting outrageously at the same time. He has a dog named Loki after the god of mischief, for a reason (and also after Tom Hiddleston, my huge celebrity crush).

Kristan a lot of your readers have favorite novels, I have a few faves plus I just added this one to that list.
Do you have a favorite or would that be like asking you to chose your favorite child?

Thank you! This one is my latest favorite!  Each book takes a turn being the favorite…usually, the one that’s about to come out. There’s a thrill to see it finished; I’ve had a little distance from the labor and delivery part, so it’s like a nurse is presenting me with a clean, sweet-smelling little angel, and I get to say, “Hey! That’s mine!”

If I think about any one of my books long enough, I’ll call it my favorite. But yeah, a few stand out—THE BEST MAN, because it introduced my favorite family, the Hollands, and gave me such a beautiful setting; IN YOUR DREAMS, because I just loved Jack so much, and Emmaline was such a kick-ass heroine; CATCH OF THE DAY and THE NEXT BEST THING, because those were gift books that just tumbled out of me.

But, just like kids, they’re all my favorite, you know?

Kristan you write fabulous contemporary tales.
Is there a fantasy/paranormal story that’s been waiting to come out?

I want to write a dark suspense someday about a writer who’s found murdered in her home. What that says about me, I have no idea. I can tell a pretty scary story to my kids, but I don’t have any desire to write one at this time. Maybe someday, though!

Okay let’s get a little personal for a moment.
I told you above that meeting you is on my bucket list.

Who’s on your fan girl/must meet bucket list?

I’ve been so lucky! I’ve met most of the authors on my bucket list—Eloisa James, Robyn Carr, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Elinor Lipman. I’d like to meet Stephen King, I think, to thank him for the gift of insomnia and nightmares and being afraid to check on my kids in the middle of the night for fear they may have become vampires while I wasn’t looking. I actually did see him once: I was in college, and we went to a Red Sox game at Fenway (cheaper than going to the movies back then). I of course wore my Yankees hat, and some guy said, “Yankees suck!” and I said, “We’re in first place! Get a life!” and my boyfriend said, “You know that’s Stephen King, right?”

Fifty Shades of Grey thumbs up or thumbs down?

Well, on the one hand, I always admire an author who gets millions of people to read a book. E.L. James tapped a nerve and deserves kudos for creating a sensation. But as a mother of a son, I sure as hell wouldn’t want my son to feel the need to hurt women in order to get his jollies. As the mother of a daughter, I sure as hell would hope she’d file a police report and buy some pepper spray the first time a guy like Christian Grey started stalking her. And as a woman who would knee a guy in the nuts if he raised a hand to me, I’d have to go with thumbs down. I understand the fantasy element; I just don’t personally love it. And I’m sure my opinion doesn’t bother Ms. James one bit.

What’s next for you?

I have the last Blue Heron book coming out this winter—ANYTHING FOR YOU, Connor’s book; and I’m working on another women’s fiction called ON SECOND THOUGHT.

Kristan thanks so much for chatting with me today.

Any time, Debbie! It’s been a pleasure! You ask the best questions. : )

My Review of If You Only Knew

There’s so many things to love about a novel from the amazing storytelling magician that is Kristan Higgins so let me count some ways for this 10 out of 5 star unparalleled novel about the incredible bond of sisters, letting go and starting over.

I love the side stories she incorporated with her main tale with fabulous, enduring characters. Then there’s her extraordinary humor that had me laughing so hard I held my sides remembering scenes long after they ended. Her charming, enigmatic and totally loveable characters on one side and then there’s the villain(s) who made me rant and rave and want to climb into the page! Her playful, witty and at times serious, dealing with family, relationship and all other matters of emotion, narrative makes the story come gloriously in Technicolor, alive for me. And her piece de resistance was her unsinkable heroine, Jenny’s optimism, her ever-deserving HEA plus the delightful terrors, those adorably unforgettable triplets.

Hoping she’s running to her future and not away from her past brings wedding dress designer extraordinaire Jenny Tate back home to Cambry-on-Hudson NY to open her new wedding boutique, Bliss. Being in frenetic Manhattan and staying friends with her perfect plastic surgeon ex-husband who saves disfigured children and his more perfect new wife (her replacement) a charity founder that builds wells in third world countries, who is having the baby she was denied was getting on her last nerve. Plus she has to admit that not only will this move give her a fresh start but she’ll be close to her sister and BFF Rachel who really is living the perfect life, blissfully happy being a stay-at-home mom to triplet daughters and is married to the love of her life. The only fly in her new ointment is the gorgeous, too sexy for his shirt, piano teaching, super of her new building, Leo Killian the enigma, whose sending such mixed signals she’s about to get whiplash.

Rachel Carver was busy taking her perfect life for granted when she without thinking answered her husband’s cell phone getting the shock of her life when someone sent him an X-rated text image and suddenly her hearth and home is threatened and the perfect life that’s until now defined her, might just derail her instead.

Connect with Kristan - Website- Facebook-Twitter-Goodreads

MEET KRISTAN:Kristan Higgins is the New York Times and internationally bestselling author of more than a dozen novels. Her books have been honored with dozens of awards and accolades, including starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, Kirkus, Library Journal, the New York Journal of Books and Romantic Times.

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