Funny Guy

PRAISE FOR EMMA BARRY “Emma Barry has been one of my favorite authors in the world for many years now, and Chick Magnet only deepens my already-fervent love of her writing. Her books are always crafted with exquisite care and thoughtfulness, abounding with graceful prose, extremely likable characters, rueful humor, and a thorough grounding in how good people think, work, and love. Plus, her writing is simply fun, not to mention sexy. With the release of this book, I expect new hordes of fans to join the Emma Barry Stan Club, but rest assured: I will always be the club’s president and most enthusiastic member.” —Olivia Dade, national bestselling author of Spoiler Alert and All the Feels “One of the chief pleasures of being a romance reader is getting to watch Emma Barry’s complex, honorable characters forging themselves into stronger, happier versions of themselves. Chick Magnet is Emma Barry at the peak of her powers: hilarious and humane, it will restore your faith in the power of love.” —Jenny Holiday, USA Today bestselling author “I could tell you all the reasons Chick Magnet is spectacular—the nuance of the emotional arcs; the witty dialogue; the delightful characters; the endearing small town—but really, all you need to know is that Emma Barry is about to become your new favorite contemporary romance author.” —Therese Beharrie, author of A Ghost in Shining Armor “Intoxicating and deeply romantic, Chick Magnet delivers a riveting opposites attract, slow-burn-with-the-hot-guy-next-door small town romance. I fell in love with Will Lund from the first grumpy meeting.” —Zoe York, New York Times bestselling author ALSO BY EMMA BARRY Stand-Alone Novels Chick Magnet Political Persuasions Series The One You Want The One You Need The One You Hate The One You Crave This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2023 by Emma Barry All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781662505034 (paperback) ISBN-13: 9781662505027 (digital) Cover design by Eileen Carey Cover photography by Regina Wamba of ReginaWamba.com Cover image: © StockLeb / Shutterstock; © Ingrid Bockting / Offset CONTENTS CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR CHAPTER 1 “Do you think it’s true?” If the woman in line behind Sam Leyland was trying to whisper, she wasn’t good at it. Of all the bougie coffee shops in Williamsburg, Sam had had to pick this one, where apparently people didn’t know how to mind their own business. “I mean, he can’t still think frozen cheesecake is fancy,” she went on. “That’s just—not possible.” “Could be,” the equally whisper-challenged man responded to her. “Should we say something? Or—” The couple dissolved into laughter, and it took every ounce of the self-control Sam famously did not have to point out they were already saying something. The juncture to not say something, the place where they could have all stared at their phones or the floor with the air of exhausted irritation that generations of New Yorkers had cultivated on teeming subway platforms and buses, had passed. Sam should’ve waved as it flew by. But these people—loud and annoying as they were—hadn’t started things. That fault rested with Sam’s ex-fiancée. Over the loudspeakers, she was cooing her new single, “Lost Boy,” about how Sam was such a child. Which . . . fair. The next time he dated a pop star, it was going to be someone less talented. Someone whose latest single was less likely to top the Billboard charts with its “instantly iconic” video. And he was going to be sure to keep his secret pain buried good and deep, somewhere no one would ever find it again. Like maybe onstage in his act, where everyone just thought he was being ironic and didn’t ever suspect he was telling the goddamn truth. The bit about drawing the cool S on his sneakers while his piece-of-shit parents had fought in the next room that had gone viral and established him as the “voice of a generation”—had any generation needed a “voice” less?—every word of it had been true. The bits about paying for Slim Jims at the 7-Eleven with pennies, about flunking out of college, about blowing his Comedy Hour audition and then getting the gig anyway: all true. And none of it had felt funny while he’d lived it. Do you think it’s true? The words of the woman behind him echoed in his head. Of course it was fucking true. The couple continued to giggle as the line clicked forward one more person. Sam closed his eyes and wished it all away. The loud gossips. The too-catchy song. The pouring rain that had driven him to stop here for coffee rather than at his regular place. It all sucked, but he hadn’t done anything in his life to enable him to complain about his luck. He’d had way more good breaks than he deserved; he knew that for sure. Part of what kept him hungry was the knowledge that he should never have escaped Leanver, Ohio, in the first place. It wasn’t gratitude—hell no—but a belief that if he stopped moving, he might sink. He was going to sink someday, but every day he didn’t was a win. At last, Sam arrived at the counter. “What can I get