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I Did (But I Wouldn't Now), by Cara Lockwood
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Are you ready to rock?
Lily Crandell has always lived in the shadow of her older sister, Lauren, who has a successful career as a wedding planner and a perfect husband and baby boy. Known within her family for being an aimless, impulsive trouble-magnet, Lily finally decides she may as well live up to her reputation: she elopes with new beau and would-be rock star Ted Dayton. But just as quickly as his band skyrockets, Lily's marriage crashes and burns. When news of her ex's new love with sultry and silicone-enhanced actress Melanie Slate hits the tabloids, she flees the country.
Hello, London!
Across the pond, Lily shares a flat with an old flame -- a commitment-phobic doctor who convinces her that the best prescription for her broken heart is volunteering at the local hospital. Turns out, he's right, as one of the patients, famed soccer star Sean Gates, takes more than a passing interest in Lily's quirky style. But things get complicated when her ex's band starts flying up the British charts. Ted comes to town, the paparazzi camp on her doorstep, and her new fling and old flame both find rumors that Lily and her ex are planning a little reunion tour rather troublesome. Is there a happily ever after at the end of this rocky road?
- Sales Rank: #1718070 in Books
- Brand: Lockwood, Cara
- Published on: 2006-05-02
- Released on: 2006-05-02
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.25" h x 1.00" w x 5.31" l, .63 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 336 pages
From Booklist
Never marry a rock star. Lily discovers this the hard way when her husband's affair with a flighty actress is all over the newsstands. She escapes to London and the comforting arms of former flame and now just friend Carter. But trouble (and paparazzi) follow her. Dealing with the divorce is tough enough, but soon she is trying to save Carter from his crazy new girlfriend, too. Lockwood fans will recognize Lily as the impetuous younger sister from I Do (But I Don't) (2003), and big sis Lauren makes a hilarious cameo appearance. This novel has the same quick wit as Lockwood's earlier fare but isn't as sweet and sympathetic. Readers may not be able to relate to the trials of celebrity, but they will be able to relate to Lily's attempt to move on. It's the story of heartbreak and recovery at the heart of the novel that will draw readers in. Aleksandra Kostovski
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
About the Author
Cara Lockwood is also the author of I Do (But I Don't), which was made into a Lifetime movie, as well as Pink Slip Party and Dixieland Sushi, and Every Demon Has His Day, all available from Downtown Press. She was born in Dallas, Texas, and earned a Bachelor's degree in English from the University of Pennsylvania. She has worked as a journalist in Austin, and is now married and living in Chicago. Her husband is not a rock star, but he does play the guitar -- poorly.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
REASON #1 TO DIVORCE A ROCK STAR:
He's got thousands of groupies. And they're all skinnier than you are.
Here's a word of advice: Never marry a rock star.
Sure, date them. Fool around with them. But never fall in love with one. And God forbid, don't, whatever you do, marry one.
You'll end up like me, fleeing your homeland in a coach seat on a one-way trip to London, because only an ocean between you and your ex seems like enough space for comfort, and because you swear if you hear his hit single "Don't Call Me" one more time on the radio/TV/grocery store speakers/iPod commercial you will simply lose it.
Some of my friends have guessed that being married to a rock star would mean that I'd have a life with an endless supply of designer clothing, a minor acting career if I wanted it, and the possibility of living in a castle, throwing dinner parties with celebrity friends like Sting and Trudy. The reality is more like sitting by the phone and trying to get the band's manager to drag Ted (as in Ted Dayton of the Dayton Five) out of whatever is keeping him from answering his own mobile phone. His distractions have a number of names, like "sound check" or "meeting with the label execs," but all I ever hear is "group sex with nubile adolescent groupies." Rock star, after all, is the only profession where a man can come home to his wife with a number of pairs of strange women's underwear and say it's simply a hazard of the office.
I suppose I should have taken it as a sign when Elvis's pants split shortly after he pronounced us man and wife in the Little White Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas two years ago. Our Elvis minister did a leg-spread split after the ceremony in a show of jubilation that ended in him destroying his tight-fitting, white, sequined jumpsuit. I think, under any zodiac forecast, that's a bad omen for a marriage.
Other omens I should have heeded:
Now I realize I've brought this on myself. You don't elope with a narcissist and expect everything to work out. I guess I was blinded by love and by Ted's really well-groomed goatee.
You know him as the slick lead singer Ted Dayton of the Dayton Five -- MTV's darlings, winners of an MTV Video Music Award and two Grammys. I know him as the guy who promised to love me forever, but couldn't quite manage sixteen months.
"I'm sorry, I don't usually do this, but do I know you?" the woman in the seat next to me asks. She's got the latest copy of US Weekly magazine open on her lap. The one that I've been trying so hard to avoid. The one with Ted on the cover, straddling a surfboard and locking lips with Melanie Slate, actor/model and People's reigning number three every year in their list of the 50 Most Beautiful People. Under their surfboards the headline reads: "WE'RE IN LOVE!" in big blocky letters.
"I don't think you know me," I say. Even though I know, in that very magazine, on page twenty-seven, under the headline of "Ted Dayton and Melanie's Sizzling Romantic Getaway," there's a small square-inch head shot of me. The one that they always use, the photo snapped outside the Iron Cactus, where I've got a cigarette in my mouth and my mascara is smudged. I look like a lunatic, but only because Ted brings that out in me.
"I could've sworn I've met you somewhere," the woman continues. Absently, she flips a page of her magazine, and there, staring up at me, is Ted hocking Pepsi. He's holding a skateboard and a Pepsi can and has two scantily clad babes in bikinis on either side of him. Since when does Ted skateboard? He's practically allergic to exercise. He once sat and watched four hours of C-SPAN because the remote was across the living room and he was too lazy to get up and get it.
I notice, as usual, that there's no sign of his band mates. I'm sure they're livid. This will only fuel more speculation that Dayton is going solo.
I turn my attention back to my tarot cards. They were a gift from my old neighbor (herself a proud telephone psychic). I don't believe they have any real power, but given my very bad decision making so far, I figure that turning my life over to tarot cards will be an improvement.
Face-up on my tray table is the Ten of Swords, where a dead body has ten swords plunged into it. I'm assuming that represents me.
Before I left Austin, my New Age neighbor told me my third chakra is blocked. Apparently, this is where love and forgiveness lives. My love and forgiveness is stopped up like the tub drain after Ted shaves his chest hair.
I close my eyes and try to focus on my chakras. I'm not sure if I'm feeling them, or if it's just a case of the airplane food not agreeing with me.
I try to visualize my inner self, the one that's supposed to help me get to the "astral plane," but when I try to focus on my inner self meditating, I keep seeing my inner self waling on Ted's outer self. Apparently, my inner self is a bitter single girl with a lot of anger issues.
"Wait," says the woman next to me. "I do know you. You're married to Ted Dayton!"
The woman is holding up the page with the picture of me, waving it in front of my face like a matador with a red cape. As if it's not bad enough that I'm curled up in a window seat in coach just close enough to first class so that I can smell the filet mignon, now I have to suffer US Weekly, too.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie.
I'll be honest with you. I may, quite possibly, be a bad person. I've done a number of bad things. I may have, although I'll admit nothing in a court of law, publicized Ted's cell and home phone numbers on a billboard on the Sunset Strip, which meant he had to change both after getting a logjam of calls from more than five-thousand fans after the billboard went public on Entertainment Tonight. I also may have charged up to $40,000 on Ted's credit cards at the Four Seasons in Austin, where I stayed after leaving his house.
But honestly. You try having your most embarrassing breakup ever publicized to the two million subscribers of People and US Weekly and see how well you handle it.
So it's no surprise that the last time I saw Ted my knee may have accidentally come into contact with his groin. Actually, I don't think I regret that part all that much. Watching him curled up on the ground, turning purple, gives me a certain satisfaction, I'll admit. Even if he did have me arrested for it.
This brings me back to the part where I'm a bad person.
But it's not every day that you discover your husband shoving his tongue down an actress's throat, right in the open, in an Austin bar where everyone can see. It's not every day that he tells you to go home, that he'll explain later, that it's not what it looks like, even though he has his hand down the back of her pants and she has her hand down the front of his.
I just sort of lost it. The groin kicking that followed (Ted's attorney called it an "assault") was recorded for posterity by a Star photographer, who then turned around and sold his film to every major magazine and tabloid in the nation. Believe me, you don't know embarrassment until your second-grade teacher calls your parents and tells them she saw your picture in a magazine, and that it's obvious that even after all these years you still haven't learned to share.
After my Falling Down Moment, Ted got a restraining order, and my sister, Lauren, pointed out that the only things separating me from being a deranged stalker were really bad hair and a criminal record. I told my sister I wouldn't try to ever kill Ted. First of all, I don't know where to find silver-tipped bullets.
My recent plan of marrying and then divorcing a rock star in the course of a year and a half is what my mom would call a Lilyism, the general term in my family used at my expense for bad decision making. I am not like my sister, who plans out everything in advance (no wonder she is a wedding planner). I don't see the point in making lists or in using Palm Pilots. What's the point of living if you have to plan out everything in advance? Where's the fun in that?
Still, I wonder if my sixteen-month marriage will rank high enough in my ex's life to make his VH-1's episode of Behind the Music. I have a very sudden and strong empathy for all those grainy photos of the premodel first wives in those stories. I have now joined the leagues of the Cynthia Powell Lennons of the world. And I'm only twenty-six.
I feel that old familiar friend Self-Pity making an appearance, and she's got with her a bag of Oreos and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. I tell her she's not welcome because I've already gained five pounds since the divorce, and being a cow is in no way going to help me in my quest to make Ted one day grovel for forgiveness. I want to be slim and svelte when he comes begging to have me back, so my knee will be nice and bony when I give him another kick.
"I guess you had to expect him to cheat," the woman next to me is saying, shaking her head. She is ignoring the fact that I am staring intently at my Ten of Swords card. I put on my sunglasses and try to look like a celebrity who can't be bothered, which is very hard to do in the cramped rows of coach. I realize the sunglasses and distant expression would be far more effective in first class.
"I mean, how are men supposed to resist that kind of tempt...
Most helpful customer reviews
11 of 11 people found the following review helpful.
Great, fun read
By Bearette24
I thought this book was perfect. It's the story of Lily, the irresponsible, spontaneous, and funny sister of Lauren (the wedding planner from Lockwood's previous book, "I Do (But I Don't)." Lily was married to Ted, a self-absorbed rock star, until he left her for an actress of dubious skill, Melanie Slate. Upset by her impending divorce (and assault charges for beating up Ted), Lily takes off for London and the comfort of her friend and ex-boyfriend, Carter.
Lily has a quick wit that made the book very fun to read. Carter is funny as well, and has a hair fetish. His hair is always perfectly styled. Lily's dog, an overweight Chihuahua named Arnold, often steals the show, and Lauren shows up in London as well.
The characters are so funny and relatable, and the bits about celebrity are entertaining as well. A fun read for anyone who enjoys chick lit or Cara Lockwood's books.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Funny follow up to "I Do But I Don't:
By Tracy Vest
Despite pending litigation for showing her estranged husband what she thought of him. Lily travels to London (with her sister's passport no less) to get away from her nasty divorce from philandering rock star Ted to stay with her former boyfriend Carter, an orthopedic surgeon based in London who cannot commit to a hair gel much less a girlfriend. Jealous ex-girlfriends, an incoherent roommate reminiscent of the guy in "Notting Hill," nosey tabloid reporters, and a volunteer job at Carter's Hospital help Lily move on from the bitterness of the breakup with Ted and open her eyes to new romantic possibilities.
It's a sequel to Lockwood's funny romantic comedy "I Do, But I Don't," and readers will be happy to catch up with Lauren and Rick' lives. I love Lockwood's writing style - she writes in such a conversational style, that you feel like a friend is telling you a story (and a very witty friend at that). While parts of the story are predictable, Lockwood's wry observations (why do all London tabloids have exclamation points in their titles?) and witty retorts keep the readers on their toes.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Funny, captivating, a must-read
By Kuklaki
I am not a reader, and I read this book non-stop the minute I put my hands on it-I just couldn't put it down! There were parts of this book that I found myself laughing to as well as able to relate to (as far as confusing feelings go in relationships). The main character, Lily, is going through a divorce from her rock-star, egotistical, cheating husband and goes to London to reunite with a friend (ex boyfriend) of hers to just relax and get away for a while before her trial. While there she goes on this adventure of figuring out herself, what she wants, and her feelings. Although she thinks she might want to move on from her ex, she can't. The ending is surprising though, and of course a love story at heart. Her thoughts are changing throughout the story into what unravels to be her finding herself in the end and "growing up" to realize what she wants in life. I thought it was a great, very well-written book, not to mention it was funny! If you want a book that you just want to keep on reading, this would be for you!
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