Best Woman: A Novel - Softcover

Dommu, Rose

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593975707 ISBN 13: 9780593975701

Verlag: Random House Publishing Group, 2026

Inhaltsangabe

A THEM AND BOOK RIOT BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR • The “best woman” in her brother’s wedding tells a little white lie in her quest to get the girl—her lifelong crush and the maid of honor—in this wildly entertaining debut novel about bad decisions and life’s messiest transitions.

“Irresistibly fresh, bright, funny, and bursting with singular voice, this is the kind of romance I’ve been waiting for.”—Casey McQuiston, New York Times bestselling author of The Pairing

Julia Rosenberg loves her brother. Really loves him. Enough to: be the “best woman” at his wedding; leave behind her hard-won New York life, brilliant best friends, and drag brunches for Boca Raton, Florida; entertain the uptight bride-to-be and her vicious cronies; try (and fail) to dodge the hometown hookup buddy she can’t resist; and navigate the tricky dynamics with her divorced parents.

She’s not that nervous. Her family stood by her when she came out as a woman a few years ago. And it’s just one week in Florida—a week of old memories and sisterly duties that will force Julia to confront the tensions that have been bubbling beneath the surface of her closest relationships. No big deal.

When it turns out that Kim Cameron, the gorgeous, self-assured girl that she crushed on hard in high school, is the maid of honor, Julia panics. She tells a teensy little lie to win Kim’s favor—a lie that snowballs out of control and threatens to undermine the blossoming attraction between them and complicate an already challenging relationship with her family. Using her wit, charm, and a suitcase full of couture “borrowed” from a pop star, Julia just might survive the horde of clone-like bridesmaids, go-kart racing bachelor parties, and alcohol-fueled speeches. But she won’t make it out unscathed. As best woman, she’s making the worst decisions of her life.

An utterly contemporary send-up of My Best Friend’s Wedding and a riotous coming-of-age novel, Best Woman is rife with crackling wit and devastating poignancy and announces Rose Dommu as an exciting voice in fiction.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Rose Dommu is the author of the Substack newsletter Mall Goth and host of the podcast Like a Virgin. Rose previously managed LGBTQ+ social media editorial strategy at Netflix. A former senior staff writer at Out magazine, Dommu also hosted the magazine’s podcast, The Outcast. As a journalist, she has written for Paper, Vice, Them, Gay Times, Elite Daily, and other publications. She is the co-founder of the queer art collective The Culture Whore, which staged large-scale art events across the United States and Europe. Dommu lives in Brooklyn with her alarmingly large collection of shoes.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

There are no malls in New York City. As a recovering mall goth, I find this sad. Malls are my favorite kind of liminal space, a portal to a bygone era that smells like Auntie Anne’s cinnamon pretzels and credit card debt.

On occasion, a woman finds herself in need of a garment so special in its mundanity, so particular in its ubiquitousness, that it can only be obtained in a large, air-conditioned building where one can also buy ill-fitting cargo pants made of microplastics, expensive body lotion that smells like rotten bananas, thigh-high boots that were trendy four years ago, a sleek new laptop, lipstick in one hundred nearly identical shades of mauve, vinyl records that will end up in a landfill when their owner has moved on to a new hobby, and designer perfume. I am a woman who has found herself with this particular need, meaning that after three subway transfers and one sojourn on the Long Island Rail Road, I am at a mall.

The skylights, soft pop music, and power walking senior citizens remind me of home. I spent enough of my adolescence in malls to know that they are all fundamentally one shared space stretching across the fabric of reality. This mall is my childhood mall, the mall of my ancestors, my children’s mall, etc.

I pass a department store full of middle-aged women returning jeans they’ve already worn twice, a fast fashion chain selling fetish wear to teenagers, and, of course, a Starbucks.

“New phone case?” The pimply teenage salesman stares at my chest, not that he’ll find much there.

“Try our new falafel recipe!” I spit out the overcooked ball of fried chickpeas as soon as the kind-eyed woman who forced them on me is in the distance.

“You’d look gorgeous with some extensions.” The pretty girl running the kiosk probably means that I’d look better with extensions, as the rain and humidity have both flattened my hair and electrified it with frizz, but alas. I check my boring brown bangs in my phone camera, but they’re beyond repair.

After walking what feels like miles, I finally reach my destination. Born to Bride is tucked away in an older corner of the mall that clearly hasn’t been renovated to keep up with the newer additions. While there are, according to the Born to Bride website, thirty-five locations across the country, this was the only one in New York State. Headless brides clutch plastic flowers in the windows, which seems like a bad marketing strategy—how are they supposed to sell veils that way? Do brides still wear veils, or is that outdated?

I text Aiden. Is Rachel wearing a veil?

nah he replies right away. f*** that purity culture bullshit. she might be doing a flower crown though. very early lana.

I can’t deal with my twenty-seven-year-old heterosexual brother knowing who Lana Del Rey is, so I drop my phone back in my bag and head inside the store, passing through the archway molded to look like a chuppah—Born to Bride being a chain primarily marketed toward Jewish women—and into a scene straight out of Say Yes to the Dress, but with uglier dresses. In one corner of the store, a girl with frizzy hair—I raise a mental fist in solidarity—is hissing at a woman who can only be her mother, who is in tears. At the other end, a sales associate bearing a shocking amount of cleavage for a Thursday morning seems to be talking down a woman who can’t zip up the back of her dress.

“I’m so fat,” she wails. “My wedding is in six weeks.” So is mine, incidentally. I thought everyone got married in the spring, but autumn weddings are seemingly de rigueur for East Coast Jews.

“We can try the next size up!” The sales associate’s face is braced for impact. The gaggle of friends circling the bride-to-be starts shaking in fear.

“I will not wear a size fourteen on the most important day of my life.” The bride is not quite blushing, more tomato red with rage. She whips out her phone, presses a button, and raises it to her ear. “Hello, I need to make an appointment with Dr. Roth for CoolSculpting next week.” A momentary pause, her face cracking with rage. “I don’t care if he’s boogie boarding in Corsica, I am getting married next month.”

As fun as it would be to watch her meltdown progress, I am on a mission. I shoot a sympathetic glance toward the sales associate and refocus my attention to the register, where a woman around my mother’s age is perched, assessing the space like a large bird. The kind of bird that reminds you birds are descended from dinosaurs. There are dark, puffy circles under her eyes barely hidden with concealer that’s far too light and far too yellow for her. She has clearly been on her feet far too long today, or this week, or this life. But she plasters on a smile as I approach. According to her name tag, she is Lorraine.

“How can I help you today?”

“I’m attending a wedding next month.” I’m a bit sweaty from my trek through the mall, and it’s warm under the bright lights. Every pearl and scrap of lace glimmers in this overstuffed store. “It’s in Florida, but I called customer service and they said I could come to any location and pick up a dress with the model number.”

Lorraine nods, eyeing my sweaty upper lip. I give her the number and she checks their system. “Yes, we should have it in stock. What size do you need?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” I say. “I need that dress in a fourteen, but I actually need it in a different color.”

She sneers. “The order has no additional color options attached.” Her face smooths into something resembling customer service. “Listen, honey, I know you might not think”—her eyes flick to the screen—“burnt sienna daydream is your color, but . . . I’m sure you’ll look lovely.” She’s not really selling the compliment.

“And after all,” she says, clacking away at the keyboard, “it’s not about you, darling. You’re a bridesmaid.”

Big smile. “A groomsperson, actually.”

She nods, eyebrows raised. “I’ll see what I’ve got.”

A few minutes later, Lorraine leads me into a sumptuously appointed dressing room.

“Thank you.” I toss my bag on the ground and look around, realizing something is missing. It takes me a minute because I’ve only had one cup of coffee today and there’s currently an Adderall shortage in New York City. “Where’s the mirror?”

She crosses her arms. “All the mirrors are out here,” she says, pointing toward the pink hallways branching out into dressing rooms. “People usually come here with friends and family and want to share the experience.”

“How fun for them,” I manage through clenched teeth. There is nothing I hate more than trying on clothes in front of a communal mirror and fielding commentary from salespeople, other shoppers, and the odd security guard trying to get my number. The last one is mostly wishful thinking; nothing is more gender-affirming than being desired by people you don’t want to have sex with.

“I’ll be back in just a moment.” Lorraine marches off to a hidden back room, stiletto heels sinking into the blush carpet with every step.

“You’re being such a BITCH.” The frizzy-haired bride stands in the doorway of the dressing room across from mine, the skirt of her dress as wide as the doorframe. Her mother cowers before her. “I can’t deal with this. I can’t deal with you!...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Random House Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2026
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593975707
• ISBN 13: 9780593975701
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 289
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar