I can't wait for you to read the first few chapters. This project was written about three years ago, and to be honest, I was hesitant to publish it. Now I'm ready. Release date coming soon.

Chapter One

Catching Up

Yoomi

Some days life gives you lemons. Others, you get roses. Well . . . I got lemons today.

On my way to meet my best friend, I clenched the steering wheel, reflecting on my disappointing interview. Tessa would cheer me up and wouldn’t mind if I was a tad late for our lunch date at the quaint café.

I searched for my friend among the sea of people while bypassing a line of customers. The affable ambiance lifted my spirits as voices and laughter filled the air.

“Yoomi!” At a booth in the back, a pale arm waved above a shoulder-length mop of dark hair.

I wove around packed tables, my sandals slapping against the polished tiles.

“Sorry I’m late, but it’s so good to see you.” I folded her in my arms and squeezed tightly. “You cut your hair.”

She shook her curls from side to side. “I needed a change.”

“Don’t we all?” I sank into the booth and gulped half the water from the glass in front of me.

Tessa’s chestnut-colored eyes twinkled. “Thirsty, much?”

“I couldn’t find parking nearby and ran two blocks to get here.”

“You’re so silly. I told you to take your time.”

My lips tugged at the corners, and I snapped open the menu. “Anything new?”

“I’m applying to law school. I missed the application deadline . . . but next year.” She raised her thumb and gave me a crooked smile.

My jaw dropped in surprise. Tessa had wanted to be an actor and then a psychologist. But a lawyer? That had never been on her list.

“I didn’t know you were interested in law.”

My future lay in shreds, and hers stretched in front of her with endless possibilities. At least one of us had a clear direction.

I was twenty-two, for goodness’ sake. I needed to make my way in the world and quick. People younger than me were already heading up multimillion-dollar companies.

She wiggled her fingers at the waiter. “One of my friends finished her first year in law school, and the more she talked about it, the more I became interested. Honestly, I don’t know what else to do with my life. Any luck with your job search?”

I kept up my everything-is-fine smile. I didn’t want to relive the recent disastrous interview.

“We’ll see what happens.” I lifted a shoulder. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll stay in Korea after my cousin’s wedding and teach English.”

I was kidding, but that might end up being my plan B.

“If law school doesn’t work out, I’ll join you.” She snorted. “But you’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” I laced my fingers through my hair and inhaled a deep breath. “I had no choice but to move back home, and it sucks. My mom interrogates me every time I go out. She wants an itinerary and the numbers of everyone I meet.” I rolled my eyes and snickered. “I wish I had a brother or a sister. She could focus on them instead.”

Tessa waved for the waiter again. “Sorry. I’m listening, but I’m also starving.”

A text light flashed from my phone inside my purse.

I sighed. “It’s my mother. She wants me to buy something else for her sisters. At least she didn’t ask me where I was and with whom.”

“When are you going to Korea?” Tessa crunched on ice while she eyed a sandwich at the table across from us.

“This Friday. After my final last-ditch interview. I’m flying with my parents.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Two weeks. I extended my vacation. It’s been several years since my last visit, and who knows when I’ll go back.”

A waiter halted our conversation. “Hello, ladies. I’m Eric. Sorry about the wait.”

Tessa’s lips spread, her eyes taking him in. His presence cured her impatience for food.

“Oh, that’s fine.” She stopped just short of fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“What can I get for you?” he asked.

She ordered a chicken salad, but I got a hamburger with kimchi and thick-cut fries.

“He’s cute,” I commented, taking in his fine ass as he walked away.

My friend leaned over and kept staring.

“Tessa,” I squealed.

She waggled her eyebrows and giggled, then grabbed her phone, her thumbs tapping across the screen. She scrolled and swiped.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Eric looks like…” She showed me a picture on her phone. “Joonho is the actor’s real name, not the character. Anyway, he’s in this drama called In Love with Two Brothers. He plays Sangwoo’s younger brother. They’re so hot. And Hana, the female lead, falls in love with both of them. I wish I had her problem.”

I stole a quick glance at Eric and compared him to the photo—the same eye shape as the actor, a glowing complexion, and a strong, square jaw.

“I didn’t know you were into Korean dramas.” I snorted.

She scrunched her face as if offended. “K-drama is huge. One of the girls in my study group got me hooked. I can’t believe you never clued me in.”

She cackled so loudly the customers at the surrounding tables turned their heads. I wished I could be as carefree as my friend.

I’d been aware of Korean culture’s rise in popularity. Maybe it came from the growing influence of their skincare products or the K-pop bands. How would I know? I was so far removed from the pop-culture loop I thought Euphoria was some cool drink and not a TV show.

Some of the students on my college campus asked me about my heritage. When I mentioned being half-Korean, they asked if I spoke the language. But their brows furrowed the moment they found out my last name was O’Malley. Mr. Johnson had done the same at my interview this morning. He’d likely expected red hair, green eyes, and translucent skin, but an Asian-looking woman with an Irish attitude meandered through his office door instead.

“I’m into K-pop bands, too.” Tessa wiggled her shoulders and hummed a tune I didn’t recognize. “Angel is my favorite. You have to come with me to his concert this fall.”

I chuffed a laugh. “I don’t know if I can afford a ticket. Even when I get a job, I’ll be saving up to move out of my parents’ house.”

She flicked her fingers in the air. “Suit yourself. You’re missing out big time.”

“Can you take a picture of us?” I asked Eric when he came by with our food.

I slid out of the booth to sit beside my friend and handed him my phone when he set the plates down. After he finished, I retook my seat and forwarded the best one to Tessa.

“There.” She tapped and swiped on the screen. “It’s on my Instagram. Did we even have a friend date if I don’t post about it?”

I pulled up the app and tapped on her photo. Liked and commented. I’d opened an account to follow my friends and pretend I had some sort of a social life.

Tessa scowled. “I’m waiting for yours.”

 “You know how I feel.” I scrunched my face. “I’ve seen the nasty remarks people make. You can share all you want. I’ll support you.”

She shook her head, grinning while I forced an exaggerated smile as a message from Minyoung flashed across my screen. Of my cousins in Korea, she was the closest in age and the one I kept in contact with the most. I was excited to see her.

Minyoung: Just a warning. My mother wants to set you up.

Oh, hell no! I crumpled the napkin and inhaled a frustrated breath, putting the phone away before my stomach acid bubbled upward.

I looked forward to visiting my relatives, but not the barrage of questions about my nonexistent love life. I got enough of that from my mother.

I’d bet my life savings the sisters were scheming. Once I arrived, they’d start setting me up on blind dates every single minute until our flight left Seoul. Mom would rather see me married off to someone successful than have a career of my own.

Tessa’s gaze lingered on Eric while she stole one of my fries. “Anything interesting?”

“It’s from Minyoung. The bride.”

I dove into my burger. Savory juices oozed down my chin, and I sighed in food ecstasy. The kimchi gave it an extra kick of tangy, spicy flavor that made all the difference.

“How old is she?” Tessa forked a cucumber and took a bite.

“Our age.”

“Doesn’t she want to live a little before she ties the knot? Wait.” She leaned forward as if to hear a juicy secret. “Is your cousin pregnant?”

I considered the idea, folding a french fry into my mouth. “I don’t think so. She would have told me.”

“Well, I’m excited for you.” Tessa sighed. “I wish I could go. I heard the food is amazing.”

“Just thinking about my trip makes my mouth water,” I said, despite the gigantic burger in my hand.

Her eyes lit up. “Maybe you’ll see Joonho or Sangwoo.”

 “Yeah, right. Maybe I’ll run into them at the airport.”

 “You never know.” She shrugged. “Anything can happen. They’re filming an episode right here in Los Angeles and are flying back home soon. But seriously, when you get a chance, you have to watch their show. K-drama boys are so romantic and charming. They’ve replaced book boyfriends.”

“I’ll bring back a souvenir for you.” I wiped grease off my fingers with the napkin.

“Awww. You’re so sweet.” She leaned back in her seat, tilting her head to the side. “How about Joonho’s phone number?”

I laughed, the interaction filling me with warmth, easing the sting of rejection from the interview. I needed the pick-me-up, and Tessa was the roses to my lemony day.

Chapter Two

Our Trip

Yoomi

No boyfriend.

No social life.

No career.

Mom would be so proud when the aunties asked questions about me.

I wished I’d gotten an offer for the HR assistant job I’d interviewed for. The timing would have been perfect, and I would have been able to go to Korea with my head held high.

Most of my friends either went to grad school, got employed through connections, or interned at companies that hired them after graduation. None of which had happened to me.

Life after college sucked when you had no job, especially when you lived at home with a traditional mother who’d rather marry you off, even if it was to someone you just met. As long as he was wealthy, she wouldn’t care.

But I did.

I wanted to fall in love with someone who loved me the same way. Relationships shouldn’t be forced. They should happen unexpectedly.

Perhaps I was the romantic type, but I wanted my soulmate to sweep me off my feet like in the movies. How Tessa described it happening in K-dramas. And thanks to my friend, I made time to see an episode of In Love with Two Brothers. Joonho might be her favorite, but Sangwoo was mine.

“Yoomi?” Mom pushed open my bedroom door.

Mochi, my parents’ fluffy dog, jerked her head up, wagged her tail, and then nestled under my desk by my feet. I ignored Mom and continued to type. I wanted to finish my email.

Of the thousands of résumés I’d sent out—an exaggeration, of course, though I’d sent enough to lose count—and the ten interviews I’d scored, I pinned my highest hopes on this last one.

Since I hadn’t gotten an offer, I was determined to deliver more résumés than before.

“Yoomi . . .”

I held up my index finger without looking up.

“Shouldn’t you be packing?”

I clenched my jaw. “I’m finishing something. Just a minute, please.”

“What are you doing?”

I groaned.

Mom knew I’d been frantically searching for a position related to my degree. So why did she want my attention now?

I emphasized each word as I answered, my fingers pounding on the keyboard exaggeratedly. “I’m trying to . . . interview . . . from this company. I’m almost done. . . .”

“Oh . . . the last one turned you down.” She sounded more disappointed than I felt.

And that was the reason I didn’t talk to her about my job hunt.

A little encouragement would have been helpful, but no, she rubbed my failure deeper. I brushed off the hurt, but the anger lingered.

Silence filled the room, and the weight of her stare forced me to look at her. The late afternoon sun beaming in the window cast a glow around her petite frame. It reminded me of Mr. Johnson’s office, the site of my failed interview.

The man had stood in front of a window that took up the entire back wall, with a gorgeous view of downtown Los Angeles—the cloudless, sunny sky and the tall buildings. He’d worn a dark, tailored suit, and his gray hair shimmered in the sunlight.

I envied his office. One day, I would have a view just as grand.

“There are plenty of jobs out there,” I said. “One is waiting for me.”

The Irish in me wanted to tell Mr. Johnson he could go to hell, that I was too good for his company. But my traditional Korean mother, who expected me to be prim and proper, would be horrified if she ever found out.

When Mom entered and sat on my bed, I sighed and slumped my shoulders. I’d wanted her to leave, not come in. Apparently, my reply didn’t satisfy her, or she had more things to nag me about.

She glanced at the unzipped suitcase, picked up a white sweater, and began to fold it. I slid off my chair, resisted the urge to stomp across the hardwood floor, and yanked the top from her hands.

I inhaled a dramatic breath, hoping she would take the hint. “I haven’t finished packing. Please, don’t touch my stuff.” I dropped it back onto the pile of clothes on the pillow. “We have plenty of time. We’re flying tomorrow.”

I didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but I needed to get some work done. And she’d already come to my room that morning, asking if I had finished packing.

Mom furrowed her brow and cleared her throat. “My sisters want to set you up on dates. I hope you will comply.”

And there it was . . . the answer to why she demanded my attention. She must have just gotten off the phone with my aunt. Minyoung had already warned me, so I wasn’t surprised.

Mom had two sisters, Kyungja and Youngja. Youngja was the youngest and Minyoung’s mother. I let out a sharp sigh and grabbed another shirt Mom had picked up to fold.

I could not win with her, so I sat back down on my chair and faced the monitor, hoping she would get the hint to leave.

“Did you hear me?” She tapped her foot on the floor as if that would get me to answer faster.

I spun at the waist, my tone more defiant this time. “Do I have a choice?”

She picked up another shirt. “Minyoung and John met on a blind date. Now, she’s getting married. Look how well that worked out.”

There Mom went again, comparing me to my cousin. If she wanted me to be like Minyoung, she should have had another child and prayed she or he would be less stubborn than me.

“Enough!” I groaned louder than I meant to. Even Mochi flinched, still resting by my feet.

Why couldn’t she understand that I hadn’t been raised in Korea like my cousin? I looked Asian on the outside, but inside, I was an ale-swigging Irishwoman ready to brawl with anyone who rubbed me the wrong way.

Be patient. Be respectful.

It wouldn’t be too long before I was out of the house.

“I’m happy for Minyoung,” I said, my tone softer. “I’m glad this setting-up thing worked for her, but it doesn’t work for everyone.”

“Why are you so pessimistic?” Mom dropped the unfolded shirt onto her lap, giving me the evil eye.

I shuddered with rage but kept my tone cool. “It’s my life. Why can’t I decide who I fall in love with and when I get married—if I ever get married? Marriage is a choice, too.”

Mom had always had her way with my life, from my piano lessons and after-school programs to enhance my education to what college I attended. No way would she finagle my love life. Not that I had one at the moment, but one day I might.

She parted her lips, and her eyes grew wide. I almost apologized but gritted my teeth and held firm. If I didn’t let her know how I felt, then I might as well let her have her way forever.

“Fine.” She clutched the shirt on her lap. “Be single for the rest of your life.”

Who was the pessimist now? No faith in her daughter to find her own husband. Thanks, Mom.

“Maybe I will.” I didn’t raise my voice, but I might as well have when I turned my chair and gave her my back.

“You shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t what?” Dad said, walking in. “What did I miss?”

He sat next to Mom and flashed a goofy face as if he could break the tension in the room.

Mochi ran toward him and wagged her tail. Dad being in the room emboldened me.

“Mom is trying to marry me off, but I want to establish my career first. Being financially independent is important to me.”

I was ready to be my own person.

Not a student.

Not the perfect daughter.

Not the unremarkable best friend who listened to her bestie’s funny stories. A successful woman with her own career and identity. I didn’t need a man in my life just yet.

Dad beamed, pride oozing from his broad grin. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Mom scowled. “But a relationship takes time and work. She needs to find her match, or the good ones will all be taken.”

He lowered his bottom lip, looking offended. “But it took you time to say yes to me. So, was I not good enough then?”

My parents met when my father traveled to Seoul for a meeting with his electronics company. The CEO of Shin Electronics, who happened to be my uncle, Youngja’s husband, asked my mother to be my dad’s translator during a dinner.

Dad said he took one look at Mom and fell in love. As traditional and old-fashioned as she was, it had taken some work to get her to agree to give an American a chance to win her heart.

They had a long-distance relationship for a year, and when they got married, Mom moved to America.

She smiled and rested her hand on his arm. “You know what I mean.”

When Dad met my gaze, I jerked my chin to the door. He winked as if to say . . . I’ve got this.

He wrapped his arm around Mom and gently tugged her off the bed, his tone becoming playful. “Why don’t you show me, honey cake?”

Her cheeks flushed, her eyelashes lowered, and her frown lines softened. I had to admit, she looked adorable. I refocused on the computer screen and tried to ignore what he insinuated, but it was difficult when they stood only a few feet from me.

Gross. I didn’t want to picture my parents having sex, but . . .

Get that image out of your mind!

“You two lovebirds go to your room,” I said, then mouthed a thank you to my father.

Mom stopped at the threshold. “Don’t forget. When you’re in Korea, you can’t speak your mind as you please. And, Yoomi, watch what you say to Minyoung.”

I puffed out my cheeks to stay calm but couldn’t suppress the anger. “Why do you always—?”

“Don’t worry.” Dad planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “She was raised by a beautiful, wonderful woman.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am worried. Our daughter will have a boring life if she doesn’t find someone soon.”

Mom just had to get the last word and rub salt into my wounded ego. Boring wasn’t a bad thing, right?

But I wanted something new.

Something I could be passionate about and invested in.

Something that brought me pleasure and gave me a minute to get out of my head.

Something like Tessa’s newfound love of K-drama.

I didn’t want to set my expectations too high, but maybe . . . just maybe . . . I could find a K-drama boy and live the K-drama dream in Korea.

Me: Can you come over?

Tessa: Why?

Me: Pretend you’re my sister.

Tessa: That kind of day, huh?

Me: Yup!

Tessa: Then…hell no! But if you can get Joonho to fall in love with me, then we’ll talk.

Chapter Three

When We Collide

Sangwoo

The sea of cameras flashing inside the Incheon International Airport terminal blinded me as the horde of paparazzi and fans screamed to get my attention.

I dipped my head, the bill of my black cap low. Putting one foot in front of the other, I followed behind my agent. Joonho and Hana jostled my shoulders, walking on either side of me as we pushed through the crowd, shielded by the security team. No doubt, a hundred pictures of nothing but the side of my head would be splashed all over social media in a matter of minutes.

Our crew had flown to Los Angeles to film a couple of episodes of In Love with Two Brothers. Joonho, Hana, and I had become famous in Korea when our show aired, but our fame exploded internationally last year.

“Sangwoo, I love you!”

I flashed my best smile and waved at the line of girls holding banners with our names. Mine was written the same as my insignia, a red heart replacing the second o.

“Team Joonho forever!”

“Hana, you’re so beautiful!”

“Sangwoo! Look this way!”

It blew my mind that the fans devoted to seeing us off to LA were welcoming us home.

Although it was late afternoon on a weekday, they would’ve been at any location at midnight or the crack of dawn. I appreciated the fandom, and their support meant the world to me, but haters would do anything to trash my reputation.

Thanks to paid sponsors, everything from the faded jeans and black T-shirt I wore to the simple carry-on luggage would be analyzed and picked apart to the smallest detail. And the designer bag and cap, with its three blue rhinestones in the center, would sell out in the blink of an eye.

Joonho told me a fan had posted a photo of me wearing a pink shirt the other day. Some praised the color, and others wanted to burn it. I’d come to accept all the love and hate from my fandom and rarely went on social media, leaving the handling of my accounts to my PR team.

As I walked through the airport, I tuned out the voices until they sounded distant. I should be used to the chaos since getting on a plane for the last couple of years always turned into a circus, but I still found it a bit too much.

The media.

The fan sites.

The fans.

The curious passersby.

Hundreds of eyes were pinned on us, and not all of them watching with encouragement. They waited for any small slip-up because that’d make better news than whatever brand of sneakers I wore.

A few weeks ago, at this very airport on our way to Los Angeles, I’d wrapped an arm around Hana’s shoulders to stop her from falling when she slipped on something wet. Before we landed in the States, a photo all over social media announced that we were dating.

Hana and I laughed about it and moved on, but the same thing happened the next day with a picture of Joonho hugging Hana on location.

The rumors never ended.

Anything we said could be taken out of context and twisted once it made it onto the web. Some haters, hungry for more followers and likes, fabricated problems where none existed.

I bit back an irritated sigh as a hand latched onto the strap of my bag—just Joonho—who’d recently turned twenty-two, four years younger than me. He raised his eyebrows and forced a smile.

He struggled with these situations like I did. It stressed him out when people pushed and crowded him. He’d been knocked over by a squealing fan not too long ago, so the crush of people made him even more anxious now.

It was bad enough to go about your business with cameras shoved in your face, but it was worse to dodge overeager fans while not coming across as rude or ungrateful.

“You all right?” I barely heard my voice over the melee of shouts and the clicks of high-powered camera shutters.

Joonho nodded, his knuckles white from his tight grip on his duffle bag strap.

I shouldn’t have adjusted my cap lower as we rounded the corner. I looked up a second too late to notice the catastrophe unfolding in front of our swiftly moving entourage. An elderly man tried to move out of the way but toppled his suitcase. It rolled into our path.

Joonho’s agent, who was directing the security in charge, didn’t see the runaway luggage and tripped over it. As he fell, he grabbed for the closest person and brought him to his knees.

Like dominoes, Joonho, Hana, and my agent all toppled over each other. A cameraman got tangled up in the mess and collided with another photographer, who then dragged down a group of young girls trapped by the crowd and unable to get out of the way.

I hoped no one got hurt. We had more episodes to shoot, regardless of any sprains and pains. We had been filming nonstop to finish the next season on a tight deadline. The last thing we needed was for one of us to end up with a broken bone.

“Aish.” I pulled Joonho away from the fray, and something hard bumped my back.

More than one foul word slipped out of my mouth, and I braced for impact as my cap flew off. I’d never see the hat again.

Instead of a cold tile floor, I caught the sweet scent of jasmine and honey and a soft, petite frame on my arm. My momentum kept us moving toward the floor, and we both let out an oomph as we dropped and sprawled sideways in a tangle of limbs.

Something warm bloomed in my chest when the girl beneath me clenched her jaw and huffed out an annoyed breath. By the shape of her eyes, high cheekbones, and narrow chin, she was clearly Asian, but something else floated in her genes, giving her a unique appearance.

My heart thudded, fell silent, and then lurched back to life. I forgot who and where I was as voices calling my name continued to ring above my head.

I scrambled to my feet and did a quick check to make sure all my parts were intact. My wrist had a slight twinge, and my elbow hurt where it’d hit the tiles, but nothing that would make me slow down or anger the producers.

The wide-eyed girl sat up, gripping an oversized bag in one hand and rubbing her knee with the other. Her lips moved without a sound.

I should at least ask her if she was okay.

I cleared my throat. “Gwaenchanahyo?”

Out of habit, the question came out in Korean, despite my initial impression that she might be a foreigner. If she was, that would explain why being this close to me didn’t make her lose her mind.

@Sangwooworldwide The prince of K-drama has landed. Does anyone know where we can buy the hat he’s wearing? And who is that girl who ran into him?