“It’s close.” I point toward the small apartment building to my left, and Christopher turns sharply for its entrance. Not for the first time, we fumble with locks and door handles to an apartment, then tumble across its threshold, slamming the door shut, tugging at each other’s clothes.
On a particularly enthusiastic tug on my part, Christopher and I crash noisily into the wall.
We both burst into laughter as he kisses me, his hands cupping my breasts, mine raking down over his naked backside, pulling him close.
“These walls are paper thin,” I whisper. “I have to try to be quiet.”
“Yikes, Katerina. You? Quiet? Your poor neighbors are in for an earful.”
I laugh against his kiss as he picks me up and walks me toward the small bed we’re definitely about to break. “I’d say I feel bad for them,” I whisper, “but then again, the alternative is them listening to me cry-sing to emo music because I miss you so badly. So, really, of all the things they could hear, us making wild, loud love is hardly the worst.”
“The worst?” Christopher says, love in his eyes as he lays me down on the bed. “Katerina, we’re in each other’s arms, with all our lives before us—nothing could be better.”
? ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ?
Second books are notoriously hard to write, but I told myself, since this wasn’t my second book ever （just the second book in this series）， that wouldn’t be the case.
Oopsie. I was very wrong.
Thankfully, I had the best people in my corner while I wrestled my way through drafting, revising, and finally falling in love with this story. My friends whose empathy, support, and humor made me feel so much less alone—they’re my people who see and love me as I am, who let me see and love them as they are, too, and that means so very much. Becs and Sarah, who get what a sometimes draining, self-doubt rollercoaster this writing life can be, whose GIFs, texts, and early-morning Marco Polos kept me going—thank you for reading this story with hearts in your eyes and encouraging me as I wrote it. Thank you, Sarah, Ellie, and Amanda for authenticity reading and for your invaluable feedback on the representation in this story. Kristine, my superstar editor, always patient with my endless questions and so very supportive of the heart of my work—thank you for helping me shape this story into its best self, especially that second act that now truly shines because of your wise insight. Samantha, world’s best agent, who believes so deeply in what I do and is always excited about how I do it—I cannot thank you enough for being on this path with me, for all your guidance and support.
And last but not least, my two （not so little anymore—please stop growing up so fast, okay?） firecrackers, you are my greatest joys and my magnum opus. With every book I write, I want to make you proud. If you read this one day, I hope you’ll recognize in this story the love I aspire to as your mother and what I believe you deserve from your friends, family, and （if you want this one day） partner—love that doesn’t dim your fire but fans its flames.
I will never stop pinching myself that I get to write these stories as my job, that I get to dig into the daunting, beautiful, tender corners of existence and write about people who love each other not in spite of but because of those daunting, beautiful, tender places. I am profoundly grateful for my readers, who make it possible for me to write and publish romances reflecting my belief that everyone deserves a love story, and for my publisher, Berkley, and all the incredible talents there who work tirelessly in editing, design, publicity, and marketing. I can’t thank you enough.
Finally, to anyone out there who has felt like a stranger in their own family or who’s loved and lost the family they had; to anyone who, as I have, has struggled with trusting someone else with the truth of their brain and body, for fear it might not be something someone could see fully and love just as much: I’m sorry for how badly it can hurt sometimes, and I hope you are gentle with yourself, that you are proud of yourself for every tiny step you take as you open your heart again, as you find the courage to tell your truth, as you pick yourself up after the hurt or disappointment or grief. It might not always feel like it, but love—in its many unique, powerful iterations, for yourself, between others—is always worth it, and you are always worthy of it. I believe that with my whole heart, and I hope this story has helped you, even if only a little, believe that, too.
Better Hate
than Never
CHLOE LIESE
? DISCUSSION QUESTIONS ?
1. If you’re familiar with Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, what are some parallels and departures that you noticed between the original text and this modern reimagining, in plot, themes, character names, and relationships? If you aren’t familiar with The Taming of the Shrew, do you now find yourself curious to read it or watch a film adaptation?