For fans of The Love of My Afterlife and The Seven Year Slip, Reese’s Book Club LitUp Fellow Natalie Messier’s heartfelt contemporary romance debut follows a woman who gets a second chance at a formative time in her adult life—this time to win the “one that got away.”

Spice rating: 2/5 open door.

Joey Vasquez’s life is the definition of good on paper. At thirty-two, she’s a lawyer on the cusp of making partner, she owns her house in Los Angeles, and she almost keeps pace with her doctor sister in her parents’ eyes.

When she reluctantly arrives at the very couple-y dinner party hosted by Elijah Aarons, the best friend she’s secretly pined after for fourteen years, she’s dismayed to find that the last person on earth she’d ever want to see again is also there: Alex Aquino. Your basic rich Silicon Beach bro asshole. The night couldn’t possibly get worse—and then she dies.

When Joey is given a second chance at life, she finds herself eighteen again, the year she first met both Elijah and Alex. Armed with memories from her first life, Joey is certain she’s come back to finally convince the one man she ever loved to love her back—so why does she find herself strangely drawn to the man she thought she hated?


Don't just take our word for it...

“If you like your love stories messy (and I really do), then you must read Natalie Messier’s debut, Every Version of You. The characters are complicated, their decisions questionable, and their chemistry palpable. Natalie Messier is one of romance’s rising stars.”
– Carley Fortune, #1 New York Times bestselling author of One Golden Summer

“Messier’s outstanding debut novel is a captivating romance with depth and complexity that folds in elements of sf and contemporary fiction. This superbly crafted mixture results in a novel that is both fresh and timeless, centered around this question: What would you do if you had a second chance?.. Fans of Sophie Cousens will appreciate this multi-layered romance. Full of opportunities for reflection, this will be an excellent selection for book clubs.”
– Booklist, starred review 🌟

“An incredibly magical debut that plays with the age-old question: if asshole, why hot? EVERY VERSION OF YOU is an ode to all the chances we didn’t take—and the ones we’d chose every time. Insatiably bingeable!”
– Ashley Poston, New York Times bestselling author of The Seven Year Slip


Taste the very first page

I only have to stay for two hours, then I can leave.

Two hours.

No big deal.

It’s ironic that I find this thought reassuring, considering I drove nearly an hour to get here. There’s something about the cost-benefit analysis of driving an hour for a two-hour social interaction that doesn’t quite add up. Like paying five dollars for shipping on a ten-dollar item.

At least I’m late enough that I missed peak rush hour.

My phone vibrates with a call. When I see the name on the screen, I glance around the small Studio City wine shop in which I’ve taken refuge, tempted to hit Ignore. I know I’m running late, but in my defense, choosing a bottle of wine is hard.

“I’m five minutes away,” I say in lieu of a greeting to Ellie, tonight’s host. It’s not a lie. I am five minutes away. Five minutes, plus however long it takes me to choose a bottle.

“You’re coming,” he says, but it sounds like a question.

“I said I would.”

“Right. I know you did, but Cat pointed out how you always cancel, and she’s worried the table will be unbalanced if you don’t show.”

I fight back a laugh. I can’t imagine Ellie’s wife, Cat, cares if I come to her dinner party, but I do believe she cares about the table being balanced. Cat hates me, but who can blame her?

What wife wouldn’t hate a woman who’s in love with her husband?

“I can’t stay too late.” I recite the excuse I’ve spent all day silently rehearsing. “I didn’t have time to stop home and feed Ruthie, so I might have to leave early so she doesn’t starve.”

It’s only a half-lie, I tell myself. Ruthie does need to eat — and if my geriatric cat buys me an easy out from a situation I’m eager to exit, well, all the better.

There’s a beat of silence, and I wonder if Ellie will call me on my bullshit.

“I’m really excited to see you, Joey,” he says softly instead. His sincerity hurts.

I had been about to cancel on Tuesday when he texted to make sure I could make it.

“Me too.” This one is a lie. Or maybe it isn’t. Can dread and excitement coexist?