Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Katie Jung to HJ!
Hi Katie and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, You’re the One That I Haunt!
Thanks so much for having me! I’m so excited to share You’re the One That I Haunt with readers!
Please summarize the book for the readers here:
You’re the One That I Haunt is a magical romcom about a woman who must team up with a distractingly handsome ghost to save her best friend (and secret crush) from his family’s curse.
Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:
“Will you teach me how to be brave?”
“I imagine it’s a lot like how I feel when you look at him.”
“Love is the stock, but passion, challenge, someone who pushes you to be your best—that is the seasoning.”
“We must write our own fairy tales.”
Please share a few Fun facts about this book…
- This book was inspired by the classic romcom My Best Friend’s Wedding with a magical twist!
- My main character, Libby, is Polish-American, which I am as well! My dad grew up living with his babcia just like Libby.
- I listened to a LOT of The Tortured Poets Department while writing this and Guilty as Sin is definitely the theme song for the book (other than You’re the One That I Want, of course).
- Libby’s grandmother, Babcia, is inspired by both of my grandmothers.
What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?
Trip is first attracted to Libby because he sees her with her walls down and learns that she’s intelligent, opinionated, and scrappy. She’s been playing a part for most of her life and is honest for the first time with him.
Libby is physically attracted to Trip before she opens up emotionally. After all, she has a serious crush on Carter, her best friend at the beginning! But she comes to appreciate the way Trip allows her to be vulnerable without judging her.
Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?
I had such a fun time writing any scene with Sabrina (Carter’s fiancée). She’s a spitfire and the character I’d most want to hang out with. Here’s an excerpt from the scene when she’s registry shopping with Libby:
She grabs the price gun used for adding items to the registry and points it toward a diamond-encrusted ballpoint pen. I glance at the price tag: $630. Shit.
Sabrina shrugs. “I like writing.” She moves to a nearby section and scans a three-thousand-dollar candleholder. “By candlelight.”
We wander through a few more sections. Sabrina rolls her eyes at the more absurd items. There’s porcelain china fashioned to look like to-go coffee cups. They’re beautiful and quirky. I must stare at them too long because she turns back to me.
“You like them?” She shoots the price gun at the cups.
“No, I couldn’t possibly—”
“No arguing with the bride.”
In the kitchenware section, she scans a sterling silver bread knife. “For my enemies.”
“Death by bread knife?” I chuckle. “Brutal.” Is Sabrina Carmichael a bit unhinged?
“I think that about does it.”
“Sabrina, that’s, like, five items.”
Readers should read this book….
If you’re looking for something that will give you nostalgia for the classic romcoms of the 90s/00s, is filled to the brim with yearning (hello, they can’t touch!), and has plenty of laughs and heart.
This is especially for the readers who have ever felt “less than” and have come to realize they’re enough just as they are. This one’s for you.
What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?
I’m currently working on my second book, which is another standalone contemporary romcom with magical realism. So excited to share more about this soon!
Thanks for blogging at HJ!
Giveaway: A copy of YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I HAUNT by Katie Jung. US Only.
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Excerpt from You’re the One That I Haunt:
Carter tilts his head, eyes moving across my face, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “But seriously, how’s your summer been?” His voice is lower, softer. He reaches for a piece of hair that’s escaped my topknot as though to brush it back but lowers his hand to his pocket instead. Right, he’s engaged. That kind of familiar touch is off-limits. The pain is driven deeper by the fact I’ve craved his touch all summer. It’s been four months since we were in the same room, but the ache in my heart is sharp as ever, honed through transatlantic video calls and late-night texts.
I swallow. “Carter—”
A woman in a silky, cream-colored jumpsuit places a hand on Carter’s shoulder and we break eye contact. Her hair is nearly the same color as her outfit—a slightly lighter blond than Carter’s, but their eyes are the same hazel, one of the only features they share as siblings.
“Need another drink, groomie?”
“I’m good, Kit. Thanks.” Carter beams down at her.
She notices my presence and straightens, smoothing her wide-legged pants and stretching a hand in my direction. “Hi, I’m—oh! It’s you, Lizzy!”
“Libby,” Carter and I say at the same time.
“That’s right.” She eyes me from head to toe. “Nice suit.”
“Thanks.” I smooth the lapels of the lavender jacket and quickly check that my lacy camisole hasn’t fallen to immodest levels.
“Where’s it from?” And here we go. Price tags, labels, the ability to suss status from a few simple questions. Who are you wearing? Who are you?
“It’s vintage, actually. Thrifted.”
“Really? It looks like it was made for you.”
I take a sip of my drink. “I have an excellent tailor. The right fit is everything.” Six-inch heels don’t hurt either. Not metaphorically, at least.
“How’s your family? Your grandmother still a hairdresser?”
“Seamstress.” I cough.
“Babcia does amazing work.” Carter’s eyes shine and I want to hug him. “Libby always had the coolest clothes growing up. Old-school stuff no one else could pull off.”
Or needed to.
Carter smirks. “Poor woman was always fixing my St. Midge’s uniform for me. She’d sit there and mend and have me pick a few tarot cards. Does she still do that?”
I nod. Babcia would kick her heels with glee to know she was a topic of conversation at this party.
“I was terrified of her. She’d read the cards and narrow her eyes at me.” He lowers his brows to demonstrate. “Then she’d say something like, ‘I’ll see you again in two weeks’ or ‘five days,’ or whatever. And you know what? She was always right.”
“Fascinating.” Kit stifles a yawn. It’s crazy how this once pesky ten-year-old kid can make me feel so small.
“Could never figure out why you wanted to spend so much time up in . . . the Bronx?” She scrunches up her nose.
Carter, god bless him, wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t be a priss, Kitty, it looks bad on you. Libs is one of my oldest friends.”
Friends. I want to burrow six stories down into the ground.
“Jeez, lighten up.” Her mouth draws into a thin line, and she takes a sip of her champagne.
Something gleams in her eyes and she leans in toward me. “Well, I know my brother won’t brag about himself, so I will.” Kit tilts her glass toward mine. “Cheers to him marrying the heiress to the biggest diamond business in London.”
“Oh?” I hold Carter’s gaze. “I knew she was British, but the rest didn’t come up.”
“And she’s just the sweetest, isn’t she?” Kitty continues.
“Actually, Libby and Sabrina haven’t—” Carter jumps in.
“We haven’t met.” I flash a smile at both of them that I hope seems genuine.
“You haven’t? Carter, call her over here!”
“That’s alright,” I half-whisper into my gin.
Kitty examines her nails. “I’ll be sad to lose him, but hard to pass up a job opportunity like that.”
“Lose him?” My voice is hoarse despite all my imbibing.
“Carter, honestly, do you tell your friends anything? He’s taking a job with Sabrina’s father. They’ll have the wedding in New York this April but then it’s over to jolly old England.”
The room begins to spin, and I grip Carter’s arm to steady myself. Blinking, I process the words Kit is saying. Carter is leaving. And he didn’t tell me. Hurt smarts in my chest, but I fight to keep my composure. He’s been abroad and overwhelmed with his family’s company; it makes sense he didn’t have a chance to tell me. I’m sure he was planning to. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Maybe it’s—
Carter gives a sheepish look that tells me it’s all true. My stomach sinks toward my knees. As if it weren’t bad enough that he’s marrying someone else, he’s going to be taken from me. An entire ocean between us. What if I never see him again? No more late-night outings for pizza slices we fold in half. No more early-morning runs in Central Park and stopping at our favorite bodega. No more fantasies of what might be.
No more kidding myself.
“Will you excuse me?” I rest my hand on Carter’s forearm and make my exit.
“Libby,” he calls out.
“Someone’s sensitive,” Kit huffs.
I’m already far enough away that their voices are drowned out by the crowd. Much to my advantage, everyone wants to stop Carter and talk to him, and no one wants to talk to me, so I’m able to make my way to the other end of the terrace free of pursuit.
My whole body is hot. I need to get out of here. Locating the door that leads back inside the town house, I shove it open.
Five minutes in an empty room. That’s all I’ll need to get ahold of myself and return to the party. I wind my way down the open staircase to the lower levels, getting dizzy from the endless turns of the banister. God, this place is freaking huge. How many floors have I gone down so far? I’ve been here a thousand times, but my sense of direction is failing in my state of panic. I should be at the bottom already.
I stop on the next landing and head down the hallway, aiming for a door at the end. Please be a spare bedroom. Honestly, a coat closet would be fine. Just a place to gather my thoughts and possibly strip down to my camisole to get relief from the inferno taking over my insides.
I twist the brass knob of a door at the end of the hall and push inside. The library.
A knot tightens in my chest. This used to be one of my favorite rooms in the Coldwell house, but it’s tainted from the last time I was here—the summer I turned sixteen. Still, my shoulders relax at the sight of the emerald-green bookshelves lining the walls, the mahogany desk framed by the picture window, the cozy couch facing the fireplace, the red-and-green rug with its corners faded from years of use.
I shut the door behind me, lock it, and stride toward the desk. Bracing my hands on the wooden behemoth, I take a few deep, steadying breaths. In my periphery, springy curls stick out from my topknot. I unhook my hair tie and let the rest of it fly free, massaging my scalp with both hands and pulling the shaggy-dog mass up off my sweaty neck. My body is still a simmering pot, so I take off the lavender blazer and lay it on the desk. We’re getting there.
“Okay, Libby. You’ve got this.” I set my hands on my hips and start pacing on the worn rug. “It’s not like Carter hasn’t been in love with other people before. There have been plenty. So, she’s a diamond heiress with a posh accent? Those are minor details.” I slam the heel of my hand into my forehead.
“Think, woman. There has to be a solution to this.”
I pick up an old-fashioned letter opener on the desk and start fidgeting with it while I pace. The handle is a smoky glass and reminds me of one of my grandmother’s crystals. “Let’s work backwards. He can’t move away. Which means he can’t get married. To her. Which means I have to find a way to bring this wedding to an abrupt halt.”
I think of the mass of people currently on the roof terrace, the giant Upper East Side wheels that have already set this celebration of love into motion. I’m just one woman. How do I expect to stop all that? Do I even want to?
I groan. “There’s got to be a way. Sure, they might think they love each other, but she doesn’t know Carter, doesn’t know how he catches feelings every five minutes. They haven’t even been dating that long. He’s been in London for what—four months? And he comes back engaged? This would be a blessing in the long run.”
You could just tell him how you feel. I swat the thought away like an annoying fly—one that’s been buzzing around my brain for fifteen years. Too risky. It could mean the end of our friendship, the one thing I can’t afford to lose.
Think, think. But my mind is blank. I have zero ideas and zero solutions to this major life-altering problem. I lean my butt against the desk. What I really want to do is punch something, kick something. Unfortunately, every item in this room is quite possibly more than my monthly rent. I settle for chucking the letter opener against the back of the couch, but it’s half-hearted. The metal makes a depressing thud as it hits the rug.
“God, do you mind?” a low voice grumbles to my left.
My heartbeat slams to an abrupt halt in my chest. I nearly jump out of my skin and spin around. Someone’s in here. There’s no way. The room was empty five minutes ago when I entered, and I locked the door behind me. But I’m wrong. Because there, in the glow of the lamplight, a pair of brown men’s dress shoes is propped on the arm of the couch.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Book Info:
To save her best friend and lifelong crush from his family’s deadly curse, Libby must team up with (and try not to catch feelings for) a handsome ghost only she can see
Libby Lakoski has two major problems. First, she’s secretly in love with her best friend, Carter Coldwell, and second, he’s marrying someone else. Carter’s the only person who has ever made Libby feel chosen, and sure, his fiancee is a British diamond heiress, but Carter and Libby have years of shared history and longing looks between them. Not to mention, Libby is the only person Carter trusted enough to tell about the dark magic that plagues his family.
But then a third and related problem presents itself—or, himself. Trip Coldwell is Carter’s handsome, smart, flirtatious cousin who also happens to be… a ghost. Trip’s “unfinished business” is to break the Coldwell curse, but the solution hinges on Libby encouraging Carter to allow his wedding to proceed. Unfortunately, Libby is the only person who can see Trip, and her objective is the exact opposite. Can Libby put aside her pining for Carter and work with his hot and not-quite-living cousin to save both men?
As they follow a trail of clues across New York City, Libby finds herself questioning just how much Carter reciprocated her friendship, feeling perplexed by a growing attraction to Trip, and fantasizing about actually touching him. With the countdown to the wedding in full swing, Libby must choose between saving the Coldwells and holding tight to her own happily ever after.
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Meet the Author:
Katie Jung writes romance about the messy parts of being human and what it means to define our own happily-ever-afters. She lives in upstate New York with her husband and three children. You’re the One That I Haunt is her debut novel.
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