At Cosmo Reads, we definitely pride ourselves on giving readers exactly what they want. A fun romance? We’ve got plenty of those! A heart-pounding thriller? There’s one already on the way! The romantasy novel of our dreams filled with fierce battles and magic? Oh yeah, that’s almost here too! So when Cosmo Reads got the chance to bring one of our favorite audiobooks to print, it was the ultimate no-brainer. Lily Chu has always been a writer we ran to the bookstore for, especially as her fun and sweet rom-coms became the perfect escapes in the summer. And now we’re bringing her next big story to print and it’s the ultimate beach (and lake) read!
Rich Girl Summer, which will be released on July 7, 2026, follows Valerie Peng, the founder of Ad Astra, the ultimate memorial and celebration of life planning service company. However, after an event goes horribly wrong, it seems like it might be the end of everything Valerie dreamed of. She gets the unexpected opportunity to turn things around when a client gives her the chance of a lifetime to make some easy cash by pretending to be his long-lost daughter. But the most unexpected curveball? Her client’s hot assistant. And with everything heating up this summer, including love and expectations, who knows what it can all lead to?
Of course, you can obviously expect Lily’s signature rom-com touch featuring longing, sweet moments, and the romance of our dreams!
Below is your official first look at Rich Girl Summer, including a cover reveal and exclusive excerpt!
Fake heiress. Real secrets. One sizzling summer she'll never forget.
Event planner Valerie Peng never planned on spending her summer sipping champagne at a lakefront estate, dodging suspicious socialites, or pretending to be anyone’s long-lost daughter. But when a very public, deeply mortifying mishap lands her in hot water—and her career in a hot mess—her uber-wealthy older client makes her an offer she can’t refuse: come to his glamorous summer home and pose as the long-lost daughter he believes his conniving family has hidden from him. In exchange? Time away from her actual life...and the chance to help uncover a long-buried secret.
But Cinderella needs some magic for this big of a makeover. Enter Nico Hever: her client’s maddeningly perfect right-hand man. He’s organized, meticulous, impossible to read, and infuriatingly handsome. But even though he claims this scheme is a capital-M Mistake, Nico’s the only person she can trust to have her back. As they navigate a world of eccentric matriarchs, class divides, and private family feuds, their chemistry is as undeniable as it is ill-timed.
Caught between pretending to belong and unexpectedly finding where she truly fits in, Valerie’s summer is about to get far more complicated than she ever planned.
And yes, you’re going to want to plan your dream lake vacation right after seeing this cover!
ONE
Valerie Peng needed it to be a good day.
A few things were trending in her favor. The June sun hung bright in the turquoise sky, and the lack of humidity meant her hair looked fantastic and would stay that way. The never-ending Toronto road construction outside of her apartment had slowed. Her breakfast banana, so often a hit-or-miss fruit, had been at the perfect ripeness, that sweet spot between mushy and so green it made her teeth chalky.
It was going to be a good day, she decided as she locked the door. It was.
She was halfway down the street when the phone rang with a call from a potential client. “I’m still not sure about this celebration-of-life thing,” Mike said.
Valerie ducked into an alley to focus on the discussion. “Let’s talk about your concerns.” She hoped he didn’t hear the horns blaring in the background.
“Well, the main one is Mom’s not here to appreciate it.”
This was a common reaction. Ad Astra was the only company in the city to focus on planning memorials and celebrations of life, and people were often unsure about what Valerie could do, or even what they wanted.
“I find it helpful to remember that while the celebration is to honor your mother, the true value is for her friends and family,” Valerie said. “It’s a way to gather and share stories and memories after you’ve had some time to process.”
“The funeral was so depressing,” he said morosely. “I can’t deal with that again. Mom loved light, you know? She took down the curtains in her room so she could see the dawn.”
Valerie considered this. “We could have her celebration in the morning. I know a gorgeous garden with a gazebo.”
“We could?” His voice became more hopeful.
“Absolutely,” she assured him. “There are no rules for a celebration of life. I did one at night in an observatory for an amateur astronomer.” “Mom always wanted flowers in the house but the cats ate them, so she was stuck with fake ones.” Mike laughed. “Yeah. A garden. I’d like to have something truer to how she was, not all solemn and serious.”
Valerie confirmed a few details before leaving the alley with a bounce in her step, pleased that she’d come up with something for Mike. She’d worked hard to get Ad Astra on the road to success, although her old wedding planner boss, Ruth, had wrinkled her impeccable nose when Valerie told her why she was leaving.
“Isn’t that morbid?” Ruth considered death a disreputable act and not to be discussed at full voice or in groups of more than three.
“It’s uplifting.” Valerie didn’t often disagree with her boss—she hated contradicting anyone, let alone the person who signed her paychecks—but this was important. “People who are grieving deserve the same consideration and attention as those experiencing joy.”
“Very altruistic of you, although I’d argue weddings are hardly a time of unmitigated bliss.” Ruth swung her low ponytail over her shoulder. Multiple brides, and some grooms, had seen that sleek blond tail, wrapped in a silk bow that matched Ruth’s outfits, and insisted on the same look for their special days. “You certainly won’t have competition from me.”
Yet Ruth had been good about mentioning Ad Astra when she heard someone had, as she delicately put it, passed. Over the last two years, it had become more acceptable to hire Valerie to plan a memorial or to book her in advance of one’s own death in an attempt to maintain control over life’s most uncontrollable situation. Business was growing slowly, but definitely steadily.
And it might explode if today went as well as she hoped. Three weeks ago, Roger Badgerton hired Ad Astra to plan his father’s celebration of life. This could change everything for Valerie. Not to be crass, but Malcolm Badgerton had been a pillar among a certain set of wealthy Torontonians, and the event would be packed with people whose last names were prominently emblazoned on hospital wings, university faculties, and art gallery learning centers. When she helped the Badgertons remember their father in the way he deserved, the city’s movers and shakers would see what Valerie Peng could do—and why they should hire her themselves.
That’s why the day had to be good, and would be. She squared her shoulders and strode into the venue, ready to wow the Badgertons. Respectfully, of course.
“Ricky,” she called as she pulled the door shut. “Your favorite event planner has arrived.”
“So she has, bright and early.” The manager came out from the back, a tiny espresso in hand. He turned on the music and Mariah filled the room. “You ready to work?”
“Let’s do it.” They had five hours until the event began, but she wanted to make sure everything was in apple-pie order.
An hour later, they were debating whether the welcome table should be moved to the left of the door when a loud squeal came from the entry. “Valerie, did you dress like the catering staff on purpose?”
Valerie turned to see her assistant, Alexis, late but holding her usual caramel ice coffee.
“The caterers wear aprons,” Valerie said, looking down at her black pants and white shirt and trying to make it into a joke. “I brought my gray suit for later.”
“Right, the one you wear all the time.” Alexis sipped her coffee. “Don’t you think it’s a bit dowdy?”
“No?” She’d always considered it professionally chic.
“Really? I thought you’d want to represent your brand a bit better.” Alexis rolled her eyes at whatever expression had appeared on Valerie’s face. “Don’t be like that. You know me—I’m brutally honest, but you do you.”
Valerie wasn’t sure if, like many of Alexis’s comments, this was genuine advice, a veiled insult, or a murky combination of the two, but it was better for their working relationship to assume the first. They’d known each other for more than a decade through their mutual friend group, and when Alexis had lost her job as an office manager, everyone assumed the assistant role Valerie had just posted would be hers.
Backed into a corner since she didn’t want to rock the boat or feel responsible for Alexis not being able to pay her rent, Valerie had agreed.
Alexis herself had been more than confident she could handle the work. “I did my wedding all by myself, and the planner was only there for emergencies or when I was too busy,” she’d said. “Memorials can’t be harder than that.”
Two months later, Valerie was kicking herself for saying yes. She watched Alexis lift a pile of tablecloths off a chair and drop them to the floor so she could sit and decided it was time for a talk. Not an official reprimand between a boss and employee, which would make Alexis more defensive than usual, but a chat between friends about expectations. That was reasonable. She’d do it tomorrow.
“Did you get your hair done?” Alexis asked. “It’s too red.”
It was, and when the stylist had asked, Valerie had lied and said she loved it before forking over a hundred bucks, plus tip. However, she had zero desire to go into this with Alexis and murmured something noncommittal.
“By the way, Margaret Roberts called yesterday,” continued Alexis. “Something about the time needing to change.”
The celebration for Margaret’s husband was next week, so this was important information. “What exactly?”
“I told you. Something about the time.” Alexis yawned and checked her phone.
Valerie set a reminder to call Margaret later. “Did you go by the office and get the boxes I stacked by the door?”
Alexis gazed up at the latticed smoked glass of the high ceiling. “I can get them now.”
“You were supposed to bring them with you so we can set up before Nico Hever arrives.” Nico was Roger Badgerton’s executive assistant and had been her primary contact. He was also curiously intriguing for a guy she’d had limited interactions with, and entirely by phone, thanks to a work trip that had taken Nico and Roger out of town. Despite focusing solely on Malcolm’s memorial, their initial conversations had been enough for her imagination, always in overdrive, to create a vision of him in her mind.
She had decided Nico Hever would be pale, with short dark hair, a long nose, and a prominent widow’s peak—an expectation she suspected was influenced by his name and a picture she once saw of Niccolo Machiavelli. This wasn’t fair to poor Nico, who had not once discussed the cunning ruthlessness needed to acquire and keep a city-state during their conversations about dates, venues, and guest lists. She’d also decided his shirt would be ironed and tucked in, because no one who took a sincere interest in napkin thread counts would neglect his own creases.
He would not only possess his own lint brush, but also use it regularly.
Some of these expectations had been laid to rest when Nico agreed to a video call to view the event space before booking. On the screen had been an attractive white guy with dark hair. Then he met her gaze and Valerie had been momentarily and unusually stunned into silence. It took a moment for her to place why he was familiar. Nico resembled a World War II squadron leader portrait she’d recently spotted in a museum display, with the same disciplined expression, strong bone structure, and spare features. His slate-gray eyes gave him a brooding expression, as if he was full of secrets he had no problem keeping.
She was looking forward to seeing him in person today, and not only because of those eyes. His serious attitude and clear competence were instant draws, making him not only physically appealing but also good to work with. It was a rare combination.
“Right, the tight-ass.” Alexis didn’t look up from her phone. “Tell him we have it under control. That’s what I would say if this was my business.”
But Ad Astra was not Alexis’s business. Nor would Valerie say anything of the sort to Nico, since she had the impression he was under a lot of stress. He’d subtly let Valerie know that Malcolm Badgerton had been almost fanatically concerned with his reputation and status and reminded her this was the family’s final farewell. Valerie understood and was ready for the challenge. She’d considered every angle. There were spreadsheets and checklists out the wazoo. She had paper trails and approvals and had accounted for every what-if she could think of.
The Malcolm Badgerton Celebration of Life was going to be perfect.
As she was thinking of a diplomatic way to ask Alexis to please not insult their bread and butter, the phone rang. It was her mother, and since her mother rarely called, she picked up immediately.
“Oh, Val, I have the most amazing news,” her mother said. “Erica is getting married!”
Figures it would be about her stepsister. Valerie’s free hand shook with the sudden force of the resentment she thought she’d put to rest years ago, and she clenched her fist to make it stop.
“That’s wonderful!” She made sure to smile as she spoke—Ruth’s trick to radiate authenticity during difficult calls. After all, love was good and weddings were great. Her older stepsister was nice enough, and almost as perfect as Valerie’s mother believed.
“It’s why I’m calling. She needs a wedding planner.”
Because why else would Mom call? Certainly not to wish Valerie luck on today’s career-defining event, which she’d probably forgotten about. The resentment swelled sluggishly, too weary to do more, and she tamped it down with her sneakered foot.
“Oh?” Ruth had made Valerie swear on a pile of vintage bridal magazines never to do an event for family, but she knew herself. If her mother wanted help, she would plan a thousand weddings. She opened her mouth to offer, but her mother kept speaking.
“Can you recommend someone?”
Valerie’s gut lurched, although it was ridiculous to be hurt that she wasn’t asked to do something she didn’t want to do in the first place. “I have a big event starting in a few hours, but I can get her some names later this week.”
Her mother sighed. “Val, you know your sister likes to plan ahead. Surely you can spare ten minutes from Aurora and get it to us today.”
“Ad Astra.” Her mother always got it wrong, and Erica wasn’t her sister. Mom got that wrong too.
“How long has it been since you’ve been doing that?”
“Two years.” Was she not going to pick up Valerie’s comment about the event?
“Right, it was the same time Justin moved to Halifax. It’s good to see you finally sticking with something. Remember when you quit that cooking class after two weeks?”
“I quit because I needed to work nights for a special event series.”
“Mmm. Get Erica those names, will you? She’s depending on you.”
When she disconnected, Valerie inhaled so deeply it oxygenated her toes. Her mother’s interest in all things Erica and, to a lesser degree, Erica’s brother, Justin, and no things Valerie was nothing new. When her parents remarried, Valerie became an afterthought on both sides. She supposed it was understandable. Her mother’s new husband had two children of his own who lived with them full-time. Valerie’s father was busy with his second wife, and when their twins were born, Valerie had made herself useful as a babysitter and collected compliments on what a good girl she was as if they were Pokémon.
Unable to help herself, she hid in the corner to compile a list of names for Erica, then hurried to place the Badgerton family photos on the tables. Valerie lingered on one of the siblings in their twenties, a candid shot as they laughed on a dock. They looked like they belonged together and she fought off a quick pulse of envy at their easy comfort. She put the photo down as Ricky came over.
“We’ve got the tea bar, coffee bar, and whiskey bar here, there, and there.” Ricky pointed at various spots in the room and raised an eyebrow. “I still can’t believe you’re having a whiskey bar at a memorial.”
“Malcolm loved a good smoky single malt,” said Valerie. “As for the quartet…”
“Over in that corner.” Alexis jabbed a confident finger and Valerie stifled a sigh. It was supposed to be under the big window, but Alexis feeling validated would make things easier in the long run.
“Sure.”
“The guest register should be near the door,” said Alexis. “That’s what I’d do if I were you.”
The register for people to leave their memories had been hand-bound by an artisan who lived near the family cottage in the Mariposas. After signing, guests would collect booklets detailing Malcolm’s founding of the Bread Company, a beloved local bakery before it became a multimillion-dollar enterprise. Valerie had to put her foot down. “It’ll interfere with the flow if guests line up and block the entrance.”
“Oh, look at that.” Alexis looked over Valerie’s shoulder, register forgotten, then pulled her hair up before letting it drop with a shake of her head. “Yummy. I hope he’s included in the event fee.”
“Don’t talk about people like…” Valerie’s reprimand died as she turned around. Standing in the doorway was a man backlit like a god from the heavens, so perfectly proportioned he could have stepped down from a pedestal at the Louvre.
Okay. Valerie didn’t entirely blame Alexis for her inappropriate reaction, although she hoped the poor guy hadn’t heard.
“Hi there,” called Alexis, giving a little wave. “And you are?”
“Nico Hever,” said the man—Nico—as he walked into the room. Also, there it was. Nico’s voice was the outlier that made her wonder if she was wrong about him and his lint brush. It was low and he spoke slowly, as if fully confident whatever he said was worth listening to. It was the opposite of Valerie, who rushed through her sentences to outrun the inevitable interruption. Yet there was a roughness to the edges, like he could get sort of growly if he wanted, although she couldn’t see him getting worked up over anything except a misplaced table setting.
She squinted to see him better and immediately decided the video call had not done him justice. Nor had it given her an immunity to those eyes, which held her gaze as if he was seeing only her. She bet he smelled good, but it wasn’t until he was close enough to shake her hand that she caught the faintest whiff of citrus.
“I’m pleased to meet you in person,” he said. Was he holding on a moment longer than necessary? It was probably wishful thinking.
She put herself back in professional mode, which did not involve drooling over her client’s intermediary. “I’m glad you’re here. Everything is under control, garbage cans and all.” She couldn’t help but tease him about his recent call to check the number of waste receptacles (his words).
“Good,” he said. “Guests will need a place to dispose of their debris after indulging at the high-protein, gluten-free, preservative-free, organic tapas table.”
“It’s also locally sourced.”
“I recall. Within fifty kilometers?” “Twenty-five.”
This made him laugh for the first time ever, and she was astonished that all it took was a weak joke about hors d’oeuvres. She quickly introduced Ricky, then turned to Alexis. “This is my assistant.”
Alexis pushed forward to stand between them. “I’m more of a deputy. You can ask me for whatever assistance you require.”
Valerie was grateful that Nico didn’t react to the low purr in Alexis’s voice. He merely nodded and took the event folder Valerie handed to him.
The next hour went quickly as Valerie walked Nico through the space, Alexis hovering behind. He paused to examine the display of Malcolm’s museum-quality Malacca walking sticks.
“They’ll make an awesome photo op for guests,” enthused Alexis. “Even better than the flower wall at the nail studio.”
That was about all Valerie could take. “Alexis, would you mind grabbing some sandwiches for lunch?”
“Take some from the catering platters like I did.”
Why did Nico have to witness this? She shut her eyes. “Please.”
“Fine, I need a break anyway. Give me the credit card.”
With Alexis out of the way, Valerie was able to focus. Normally she might stress at being in such close proximity to a man who made her skin tingle, but she’d worked hard on this event and refused to be derailed by the dopamine flood that occurred when they made eye contact.
Or so she thought, until he smiled at her. It was incredible what it did to his face, transforming its cold perfection into a surprisingly intimate warmth, and satisfying because she had a sense that Nico wasn’t someone who smiled often. It felt special, just for her. She took a step back and lifted the folder filled with print copies of the event plan to her chest as if that would hide the sudden pounding of her heart.
Work. It was time for work. “Shall we move to the coat check?”
Nico listened attentively and Valerie let the folder drop to her side as she relaxed into the rhythm of her tasks. It was pleasant to be with Nico. It gave her intense satisfaction to go over everything, in part to show him she knew what she was doing, but mostly because it was gratifying to have someone appreciate the small details that made an event appear seamless. Nico cared about the importance of specifics, such as the number of roses in the arrangements (six in the small, twenty in the large), and the greenery used for filler (fern, not baby’s breath). Alexis arrived with lunch just as they finished, and haphazardly set out the food on an empty table. Valerie examined the trays, which did not hold the sandwiches she requested.
“I felt like sushi,” Alexis said breezily, taking the California and kappa rolls for herself. Valerie and Ricky split the spicy salmon and tuna, while Nico politely refused. He went off to examine the selection of whiskeys Valerie had stocked on the advice of a master distiller Ruth recommended.
Alexis checked her phone. “I’m leaving at six to meet the girls,” she said. “Are you coming by later?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be done here.” No one in their shared friend group had told her there were plans, and Valerie’s last message dangled at the bottom of the group chat like a hook filled with uneaten bait. It would have been nice to be invited instead of being an afterthought. Or maybe they’d simply assumed she’d be there. She cheered and took another salmon roll. That made more sense, and she could think about whether to go later.
Right now, she had an event to run and a name to make for herself.
Excerpted with permission of Cosmo Reads, an imprint of Sourcebooks, from RICH GIRL SUMMER by Lily Chu. Lily Chu ℗ 2026 Sourcebooks, LLC. All rights reserved.
Rich Girl Summer, by Lily Chu will be released on July 7, 2026, from Cosmo Reads. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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