K.L. Walther continues to absolutely make our hearts race and our eyes move to the next word with feel-good romances that also happen to look absolutely gorgeous on our shelves. And she’s also back with another swoon-y read that is not afraid of inspiring us to follow our true passions and maybe even fake date your BFF to make your biggest dreams come true. Sounds like the kind of novel that we wish we could re-create ourselves.
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive look at K.L. Walther’s We’re a Bad Idea, Right?, which is set to be released on March 31, 2026. The novel follows Audrey as she tries to do anything possible to make her dreams of taking part in a glassblowing fellowship come true. However, with her parents disapproving of her plan, she decides to shake things up by trying to fund her own way there and even accepting her BFFs plan to fake date in order to get his girlfriend jealous. Will this new path for Audrey give her what she’s hoping for? Here’s some more info from our friends at Delacorte Romance:
The business of love gets messy when two best friends decide to fake a relationship in this uproarious and swoony novel by the New York Times bestselling author of The Summer of Broken Rules.
This stunning first edition of We’re a Bad Idea, Right? will feature special designed edges!
“As always, Walther’s characters leap off the page. Come for the perfectly executed fake dating romance and stay for the endearing cast of weirdos who feel like real friends.”—Becky Albertalli, bestselling author of Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda
Audrey Barbour has had enough of following the rules. Eighteen years of being the perfect daughter—exceptional grades, enviable college acceptances, tame dating history—and still, her parents don’t trust her enough to let her study her passion, glassblowing, on a prestigious fellowship.
So when her best friend Henry proposes an outrageous fake-dating scheme to win back his ex-girlfriend, it feels like the first step to shaking up her perfect life. And the second? That comes when Audrey’s parents go out of town, sparking a high-risk, high-reward solution to pay for her fellowship—renting out her family’s Connecticut mansion online. With the help of her new fake-boyfriend, it shouldn’t be hard to pull off… right?
But when her best intentions start to unravel, Audrey will have to reckon with who she is, what she wants, and what it really means to play life by her rules—all with her heart on the line.
Ready to meet Henry and Audrey? Check out an exclusive excerpt below! Just make sure to pre-order We’re a Bad Idea, Right? and check out some of K.L.’s previous books while you’re at it too!
An Excerpt From We’re a Bad Idea, Right?
By K.L. Walther
Chapter 4
Henry might’ve hated driving, but he insisted on picking me up later. With Brigitta back from the shop, I assured him that I was cool grabbing him instead, but he shook his head and said, “Audrey, you are my date.”
Oh, how I pretended to swoon.
At 6:58 p.m., his Toyota Highlander passed through my front gate and rolled up the driveway. I’m in the kitchen, I texted him, and two minutes later, he let himself in through the wide front door.
“Do you feel like sushi?” he called into the house, boots clomping on the hardwood floor. “Because I made a reservation— ”
I tried not to giggle when he walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. “You look really nice,” I commented, as if nothing were amiss. He wore one of my favorite Henry Chen outfits: Chelsea boots with tapered blue pants—sorry, trousers— and a cream sweater. It might’ve felt like summer during the day, but the temperature slipped at night. His hair was, per usual, artfully disheveled.
“Doolittle,” he finally said. “What am I looking at?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I played dumb, glancing around the kitchen. “Marble countertops? Subzero fridge? Porcelain farmhouse sink?”
Henry blinked thrice. “No, I mean . . .” He trailed off to gesture at me.
I kept up my charade. “My outfit?”
Tonight, I’d chosen an all-black ensemble: a turtleneck tank and jeans with my favorite mules whose gold buckles matched my earrings. (I might not have much interest in my hair, but clothes were a different story.)
“Holly.” Henry gave me a cut-the-bullshit look. “Your hair— what happened to your hair?”
“Cut it,” I quoted in a British accent. “Do you like it?”
He rolled his eyes. “Hallie Parker masquerading as Annie James. The Parent Trap, 1998.”
I smirked, then said: “I was a walk-in at the Hair Doctor & Associates this afternoon.”
“Let me guess . . .” He assessed my newly short hair as I playfully tousled it. “There was a specific inspiration photo?”
“Taylor Swift at the 2016 Met Gala.”
Not only had Ellie’s sister chopped off my ponytail and expertly styled my hair into a layered bob with bangs, but she’d also bleached my hair blond.
Truth be told, I was horrified at first; terrified I’d made a serious mistake, my heart slid into my stomach. But after a couple of hours, the cut was growing on me. It felt cool and fresh— and my mother would absolutely despise it. While she loved the word highlights, she’d never said “dye.”
“What’s this?” Henry moved on to the other elephant in the room: the stolen bottle of wine sitting on the island.
“Oh, I took that from the cellar,” I said. “My parents shot down Blue Ridge again before they left, and I was super pissed.” I shrugged. “I guess I wanted to rebel.”
“By drinking an entire bottle of red wine?”
“Hey, it’s still corked, isn’t it?” I said, then nodded toward the mudroom. “You want me to drive?”
“Nope.” Henry gave me an almost painful smile. “I’m a gentleman.”
“Yes, from head to toe,” I agreed. “But not every gentleman can parallel park.”
All the public lots in town filled up by dinnertime on Fridays.
His smile wavered. “I’ll drive,” he said somberly. “You park.” “Hey, look at us compromising!” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my jean jacket off the barstool. “Let’s roll, Hank.”
Grumbling, Henry followed me.
***
It didn’t take Henry long to ask about Ellie. Technically, he phrased it as How are the Hoppers doing? but I knew what he meant as we drove toward town. What did I tell him? Did I paraphrase or directly quote Tate? “Ellie is happier than ever with Chase,” she’d said during today’s salon appointment. “But no one else in our family is . . .”
I played it cool. “Ellie wasn’t there.”
Henry snorted. “Nice to hear Chase hasn’t changed,” he said.
“He never spent any time with Pinks’s family. When she and I started dating, everyone was shocked that I accepted their invitation to stay for dinner and board games.” His hands shifted on the steering wheel. “It’s mind-boggling that someone who loves her family so much can be with someone who doesn’t give a shit about getting to know them.”
I didn’t respond. Tate, with all her seventh-grade wisdom, had said something similar. “Chase is love-bombing Ellie,” she’d told me while snipping my hair, seemingly at random, “but Henry loves Ellie. Chase just texts her that he’s in the driveway.” More hair fell to the floor. “And sometimes he’s not even in the driveway yet. She waits on the front stoop.”
“Chase is home from Davidson,” I told Henry as he stopped at a yellow light he totally could’ve made, “but only for a couple of weeks. He’s staying in an Airbnb in Boston before he starts his Bank of America internship. Apparently, Ellie and her parents are arguing over how often she’ll visit him. She wants to skip her grandmother’s ninetieth birthday bash.”
“Okay, no way,” Henry said. “She’d never miss Adelaide’s party.”
“Tate told me Chase invited her to Maine that weekend.” Henry wrinkled his nose. “That’s just so . . . not Pinks.” “Well,” I ventured gently, “it doesn’t really sound like she’s ‘Pinks’ anymore, Henry.”
Henry thought for a beat, not noticing when the traffic light turned green. “No, it doesn’t,” he admitted after the car behind us honked. I fumbled for the safety handle when the Highlander lurched forward. “At least, not right now.”
My heart twisted. He so wanted Ellie to be his again.
Something told me we really needed to commit to this fauxmance.
After circling all the public lots, we did indeed need to parallel park. “Unbelievable,” Henry said when an opportunity opened up right outside the bookstore. It was if the parking gods were daring him to parallel park.
“Watch and learn,” I joked once Henry flipped on the hazard lights and we deployed from the Highlander, quickly switching seats. I skillfully maneuvered the car between a Mercedes G-Wagon and what was undeniably Griff’s hideous orange Camaro. It was Friday night. Was he grabbing pizza before heading to a party?
Maybe we’ll see him, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking. Bedtime Stories was both our town’s beloved indie bookstore and a New England icon. My mom worked there a few days a week, mostly coordinating author events and creating gorgeous window displays. I loved the store’s midnight-blue facade and old-fashioned sign, hand-painted in gold block letters. Inside was a maze of mahogany shelves with various nooks and crannies, not to mention a hidden café. The bookshop was the perfect place to get lost on a rainy afternoon. I’d never call myself a reader, but the store was so cozy that I felt inspired to become one.
“Henry, hi!” Mia called when he and I pushed through the door. At the sound of the jingling bell, a cat appeared and weaved between my legs.
“Hello there,” I cooed, and scooped up the gray and white Scottish fold to cuddle her close. Five cats freely wandered the store, but Poppet always rolled out the welcome wagon.
“Hey, Delphinus!” Henry called back, using Mia’s Constellation Catering code name. “Still working two jobs?”
We walked over to the staff recommendations section, where Mia was updating her shelf. It appeared she was a huge fan of hockey romances.
No thanks, I thought as her eyes widened at my bleached hair. Sports and spice aren’t my thing.
Mia told us about her plan to scale back her shifts at Bedtime Stories once Constellation Catering’s schedule picked up next month. “I love the bookstore,” she whispered, “but the cater-waiter money is way better. Like, the tip I got after Jack and Casey’s welcome party—”
“Jake and Cassie,” I corrected her in my best all-business Ellie Hopper voice.
“Oh, right.” Mia nodded, while Henry looked bemused. He offered me his hand, and I hesitated before carefully depositing Poppet on the floor so I could take it.
His fingers were warm.
“We’ll see you later, Mia,” Henry said as the blood pumping in my ears became practically audible. “I promised to buy my love interest a latte and as many books as she wants tonight.”
“With unlimited browsing time,” I added.
“Wait, love interest?” Mia asked. “Are you—”
“He’s a certified book boyfriend,” I chirped, but regretted it almost immediately. Why had Henry called me his love interest, and why had I followed up with boyfriend? Tonight was only a trial run! I swallowed hard. “What’s this week’s specialty latte?”
Ten minutes later, Henry took an artsy photo of me sipping an orange blossom oat milk latte while I read the back of a mystery novel that sounded like Downton Abbey meets Clue meets Groundhog Day.
He posted the photo on his Instagram story.
I reposted it on mine and wrote: Why’re you so obsessed with me?
Then I swore under my breath and quickly deleted it; there was no way I wanted my mom to see my new hairstyle yet. She would shriek all the way across the ocean.
“Okay, you’re not giving me much content,” Henry said after I’d gone from thoughtfully browsing to aimlessly browsing. I had one book; I was all good.
“No, you’re just missing it,” I shot back, because he put down his phone whenever a book caught his eye. Which was pretty much every five seconds.
“That’s not . . .” Henry started, but got sidetracked by a flashy cover.
Henry bought the book for me, and we agreed to reverse roles. He browsed the store while I captured moments of him running a slow hand through his hair (if a book sounded good) or rolling his eyes (if a book came off as contrived) or wrinkling his nose (no, nope, no thanks). He picked out four books: a dark academia novel, an absolute brick of a bestselling history book, something with dragons, and a collection of essays by his favorite comedian.
“Thank you,” he told me when Mia rang up his winners at the register. They were all hardcovers. “You’re the best book girlfriend ever.”
“I’m not sure that’s a thing,” I said, “but you’re welcome.”
Mia smiled at us. “Jared owes me a coffee,” she said. “I told him there was something between you two, but he thinks you have a thing for Griff, Audrey.”
Shit, I thought, willing myself not to flush. It’s that obvious?
Henry knew, of course, and even though Ellie had never said anything, I suspected that she suspected, but—
“It’s new, Delphinus,” Henry said, lightly kissing my cheek after I tapped my debit card against the register's PIN pad. “We’re just seeing where things go . . .”
Don’t tell anyone! I almost added, even though the point was for Mia to tell everyone. We wanted her to stir up some gossip.
By the time we walked out the door, my phone had pinged with a text from Venmo: Henry Chen has paid you . . .
I sighed. “I don’t mind.”
It was the truth . . . mostly. I’d ordered more glass supplies this week and those shipments were never cheap.
“Nope, don’t even,” Henry said. “That history book alone was forty dollars.” He shook his head. “You can fund dinner.”
“All right.” I nodded, but regretted bumping our terms-and-conditions talk until later. Because this felt like we were actually dating. We could’ve googled rules for fake dating before leaving my house, or taken notes during To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before . . .
Henry unlocked the Highlander to stash his treasures; the Little Tuna was only a few blocks away, so we’d walk. I was fantasizing about a dragon roll when I heard voices.
Before I could turn and look, Henry closed the car door and leaned against it with a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. “What?” I asked.
He moved fast, reaching out to take my hand. I let him tug me toward him, now able to clearly hear Griff and his friends talking about their fantasy baseball league. A shiver rolled up my spine when Henry put a hand on my waist and shifted us so that I was now the one up against the car. I felt my spine straighten. “Do not kiss me,” I whispered before he got any ideas. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”
“No?” Henry tilted his head. “Not even halfway through the first date?”
I rolled my eyes, all too aware that our hip bones were nearly touching. I regretted telling him about me and Brody Jones in the boys’ locker room at JProm last year. Brody had been a senior, so nothing came of it, but it’d been a fun night.
I admittedly hadn’t had many fun nights since then. Guys weren’t exactly lining up to ask me out. “Audrey, it’s because you’re this badass glassblower,” my cousin Grace told me when I’d confided in her over Thanksgiving. “You intimidate them.” She comically brought her hands together in prayer. “May they someday be enlightened . . .”
What is wrong with you? I wondered now. Why was I resisting this? Why couldn’t I just kiss Henry? It had been a long time since I’d kissed someone, and now the perfect opportunity was presenting itself. And it wasn’t even a real kiss! It’d be a stage kiss, with zero emotion behind it.
Part of me wondered if that was the problem. I didn’t want to find out what Henry was like when he went on autopilot, going through the motions with any of his feelings.
“Hey, Chen!” Griff shouted, making my heart lurch. “Is that you?”
My first inclination was to jump away from Henry, but he had one hand on the car window, half shielding me from the sidewalk. I couldn’t move without it being incredibly awkward.
“Hey, Keeler,” Henry said casually as Griff left his friends on the corner. “What’s new?”
Griff sounded uncharacteristically and delightedly villainous. “Your friend,” he quipped. “Are you gonna introduce us?”
Introduce us? I thought, confused. Griff, you know me!
Except he didn’t, I realized. Because right now, all he was seeing was some bleached blonde whose face was obscured by Henry’s arm. My guess was he hadn’t yet seen Henry’s Instagram story, where @audreyb had debuted her new look.
“Griff.” I wriggled away from Henry. “Griff, hey.”
Griffin Keeler’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, basically falling to the sidewalk. “Audrey?” he managed after a few beats.
I smiled. “Per my birth certificate.”
“You . . .” He took a step backward and blinked, almost as if hallucinating.
“What’s he doing?” I whispered to Henry.
“Having a moment,” he whispered back.
“You changed your hair,” Griff stated.
“This afternoon.” I nodded, then attempted to bat my eyelashes. “What do you think?”
He shook his head, still in disbelief. “Thumbs—I mean, double thumbs-up.”
“That makes two of us,” I said, then nudged Henry. “This guy hasn’t weighed in yet.”
“I’m still composing my compliment,” Henry deadpanned. Griff chuckled. “No, seriously, you look incredible.”
“Thanks.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, feeling myself blush. “We should probably go. Our reservation is in . . .”
“Five minutes,” Henry supplied smoothly.
“Cool, cool, cool.” Griff nodded, then furrowed his brow. “Are you two . . . ?”
“Yeah, we’re grabbing dinner,” I told him. “The Little Tuna.” “Right, okay . . .” he said slowly, as if trying to piece together tonight’s context clues. His eyes snapped back to mine, deep blue even in the low lamplight. “Will I see you later? At Jason’s?”
I glanced at Henry. Was Griff inviting me out?
“You should come,” he added. “It’ll be fun.”
“Potentially.” I tried to play things cool even though butterflies had swarmed in my stomach. “I’ll definitely see you tomorrow, though.”
Griff gave me a look. “I didn’t think you were working the retirement brunch.”
“I’m not.” My heart rate heightened. Even though the idea had only popped into my head three seconds ago, I told myself to go for it. “But I am having some people over tomorrow night.”
“You’re having a party?” both Henry and Griff exclaimed, but in very different cadences. Griff was psyched; Henry sounded shocked.
“A small gathering,” I corrected them, and took Henry’s hand. I wondered if he could feel my pulse pumping in my palm. “I’ll text you details later.”
Griff grinned. “Embracing your freedom, huh?”
“Exactly.” I grinned back as I noticed him clock Henry’s and my hand-holding. “Embracing my freedom.”
Text copyright © 2026 by K. L. Walther
We’re a Bad Idea Right?, by K.L. Walter will be released on March 31, 2026 from Delacorte Books. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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