It works. It’s bona fide. But what if you turn that one on its head a little and go from lovers to enemies and (hopefully) back again? That’s what our fave author duo, Christina Lauren is doing with Dating You Hating You!
Christina Lauren’s First Standalone Romance
Despite the odds against them from an embarrassing meet-awkward at a mutual friend’s Halloween party, Carter and Evie immediately hit it off. Even the realization that they’re both high-powered agents at competing firms in Hollywood isn’t enough to squash the fire.
But when their two agencies merge—causing the pair to vie for the same position—all bets are off. What could have been a beautiful, blossoming romance turns into an all-out war of sabotage. Carter and Evie are both thirtysomething professionals—so why can’t they act like it?
Can Carter stop trying to please everyone and see how their mutual boss is really playing the game? Can Evie put aside her competitive nature long enough to figure out what she really wants in life? Can their actor clients just be something close to human? Whether these two Hollywood love/hatebirds get the storybook Hollywood ending or just a dramedy of epic proportions, you will get to enjoy Christina Lauren’s heartfelt, raucous, and hilarious romance style at its finest.
Dating You Hating You is a smart contemporary romance like we’ve all come to expect from Christina Lauren. It’s a fantastic look into the lives of young professionals working in the talent industry in Hollywood, so it’s like getting your romance with your US Weekly fix at the same time.
Christina Lauren made their debut with workplace Hate You So Much I Have to Bone You in Beautiful Bastard, so watch them turn it on its head with Evie and Carter’s very sweet meet cute, fun and promising relationship start to … fighting for the same position.
In honor of and in preparation for Dating You Hating You‘s release tomorrow, we thought we would embarrass ourselves (or some former flings) with some terrible dating/hating stories for the ages.
Beth
In high school, I worked at a small local produce market. It was a great place for teens to work because it closed at 7pm and wasn’t open on Sundays, so we had plenty of time to get homework done on school nights and were free attend church on the weekends, unlike our heathen friends who worked at the movie theater until the break of dawn.
It might have been for that reason that the market attracted a lot of teenage Mormons (and me, the non-denominational evangelical kid). One of these Mormons was a cute skater guy I will call Rob. Rob and I got along great, laughed like crazy in the cooler throwing grapes at each other, waited for each other in the parking lot when one of us had to work a little later than the other: me, counting the deposit for the weekend; him, culling the vegetables.
One night, after the store closed, as about half a dozen teenagers closed down the entire store for the night, someone brought up the tenants of Mormonism. Rob and I were used to playfully maligning our respective religions. So, we looked at each other, rolled our eyes and started riffing on everyone else’s serious discussion (I thought) playfully. But it turns out that yelling across the produce stalls that, “Joseph Smith was just some delusional narcissistic communist whose church wouldn’t let him marry a bunch of teenage girls” does NOT go over well with your LDS work-boyfriend.
Rob was understandably very hurt, and very pissed at me. That anger led to our first fight, and our only kiss. In the cooler, natch.
Heidi
Being the consummate political nerd that I am, this lust-fueled-by-hate story takes place at a California statewide political science convention. It was the early 2000’s so you need to picture pencil skirts, pointy toe stilettos, way too thin eyebrows and a bunch of early 20-somethings who thought we knew everything to really set the scene. Thanks for that, Sex and the City. I spent a long weekend discussing – and inevitably arguing about – policy and economic development. Naturally I always took the progressive perspective, because I’m consistent like that.
On the first day of the convention there was a guy sitting across the room from me. He was tall and super cute in that disheveled way college guys are when they wear their woefully untailored suits. Plus he was sarcastic and smart. He was the total package. Except we disagreed on every single political issue. All of them. He was the absolute worst. For 3 days we argued and fought. Yet somehow each day the seats we chose in the morning got slightly closer to one another. By the last day he was two seats down from me and I could hardly stand to be in the same room as him. Then I had a few Smirnoff Ice drinks in the hotel lobby on the last night (I did mention it was the early 2000’s) and ended up making out with him for hours.
Mr. Conservative and I never spoke again, but remembering that one stupid weekend makes reading love stories like Evie and Carter’s especially fun for me.
Jamie
The summer after my junior year in college, I worked in a marketing department for a large insurance company. There, I met a fellow intern who was cute and became 10x more attractive when I learn he lived in France for a few years during middle school and high school. For me, who had just returned from a semester abroad in France without a French boyfriend, this was kismet. Sure, we got along and even flirted a bit, but he never asked me out. I even invited him to come out with my friends, but he always had prior plans. Of course, after a summer of mixed signals, I found out that he had a girlfriend. One that he never himself, told me about.
Cut to several months later, he invited me to see Amelie — you know that quirky French romantic comedy — which was showing at an indie theater in town. We had one of the best dates including dinner and drinks which led me back to his place to “watch a movie.” With the movie playing in the background, we were busy with some heavy petting. Months of flirtation, possible sexual tension, was culminating in a hot make-out sesh. I was ultimately saved by an incredibly inopportune full bladder. Once in the bathroom, I discovered a bra hanging on the back of the door and a box of tampons under the sink. What followed was a homegrown Philadelphia colorful vocabulary that no one ever wants to hear.
Needless to say, my not-even-really-french romance was very short-lived.
Now … YOU!
Tell us your bad dating/hating stories in the comments. One of you will win a copy of Dating You Hating You! Make us laugh … because we are kind of depressed after reading our own stories.
