Blog Tour: The Ex-Cavenger Hunt by Kendall Hale

Is it worth looking to the past to find your future?

The Ex-cavenger Hunt, an all-new romantic comedy filled with heart and humor from debut author Kendall Hale is now available!

According to this article, I might’ve already met my soulmate . . .

And I missed my chance to find the love of my life.

It's the cherry on top of an already doomed situation. If I don’t find my own date for my sister’s wedding, I’m stuck with the worst groomsman as a date.

The answer is simple: go on a quest to reunite with my exes and figure out where everything went wrong—or right.

The execution…not so much: Out of desperation, I accept help from the least likely source.

The secret weapon: Ethan Montgomery, notorious womanizer, brother of the groom, and my consolation prize if I can’t bring a real date to the wedding. Unsurprisingly, he’s also invested in not being my date for our siblings’ wedding and is willing to help me at all costs.

The complication: As we navigate through a maze of my past relationships, unexpected feelings begin to surface, blurring the lines between our roles as partners-in-crime and something more.

The decision: With time running out and the wedding fast approaching, I must choose between giving love a second chance with one of my exes or taking a leap of faith into the unknown with Ethan.

The outcome: Will this journey lead me to my true soulmate, or will I discover that the love I've been searching for has been beside me all along?

The Ex-cavenger Hunt is a light romantic comedy full of heart, humor, and the occasional awkward reunion.

Start reading today!

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Amazon: https://amzn.to/4cSWpO0

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Keep reading for a look inside The Ex-cavenger Hunt!

Are they telling me that I missed out on love because I . . . What happened? I probably failed to recognize my soulmate. Is that even a thing?

There’s a pinch of anxiety gnawing my insides. I feel it in the way my stomach clenches and the way my breath catches in my throat. With each sentence, the fear of missing out grows heavier, like a stone settling in the pit of my stomach. It’s as if whoever wrote this article knows me, knows about the string of Mr. Almost-Rights that make up my dating history.

“Could any of them have been The One?” I whisper to the room, half-expecting one of my quirky art pieces to answer back.

I’ve always been the girl who wears her heart not just on her sleeve but practically on her forehead, flashing neon for the world to see. Yet here I am, wondering if, in all my creative endeavors to find love, I’ve inadvertently ignored someone important. Someone whose impact on my life may have been more than fleeting but I didn’t recognize him.

“The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but let out a nervous sigh. It’s typical of me to focus too much on the small things and overlook the big picture. In this situation, I didn’t realize I was neglecting the main aspects of my own love story by getting caught up in trivial matters.

“Come on, think,” I urge myself. There has to be a pattern, a common thread among the men I’ve loved and lost. Is lost the right word?

Loved and dumped?

Okay, I dumped some, others dumped me and . . . not everything is black and white, is it?

But as the article suggests, it’s time to reflect on the past but not to dwell on it. No, this is about learning, about piecing together the puzzle of my heart.

“Let’s do some soul-searching,” I say with a renewed sense of purpose, though the tightness in my chest tells me it’s not going to be all fun and games.

But won’t it?

Potential partners,” I repeat under my breath, rolling the phrase around on my tongue. It sounds so clinical, so devoid of the magic and spark I associate with love. And yet, it’s precisely what I need to explore to get someone through the scrutinizing eyes of my sister. There’s no way I’m going to be close to Ethan.

I’ve only met him a couple of times from afar and he’s not very friendly. Cleo has told us about him. Pretentious, manipulative, self-centered . . . he barely treats his family well and when he’s around, he’s intolerable.

There’s no way I’m dealing with someone like that during Bridezilla’s nuptials. I jump up from the couch, my feet itching to move as anxiety nips at my heels. Pacing around the house, I try to shake off the restless energy, but my mind won’t quit buzzing. The old wooden floorboards creak and groan beneath me, like they’re protesting my sudden burst of activity.

I’m halfway across the living room when I freeze, my head spinning with a whirlwind of names and faces, each one dragging up a memory that plays like a scratched record. It’s a jumble of what-could-have-beens and almost-loves, a mental playlist that skips and stutters, never quite making it to the end of the song.”