“I love a good will-they-or-won’t-they romance, and this one turned out to be unexpectedly deep, tackling really important issues that impact so many.”— New York Times bestselling author Emily Giffin on the TODAY show   Is it possible to love someone you've never met? A young woman finds out in this sweeping love story that begins with a chance wrong number dial. . . . When Hannah picks up a call from an unknown number, she thinks nothing of it—it’s just an easygoing American named Davey who misdialed her while calling into a job interview. And when Hannah wishes him luck after clearing up the confusion, she never actually expects to hear from him again. Then she gets a text saying he got the job and he’ll be moving to London, and she can’t help but smile. Soon their texts become phone calls that turn into video calls, and their friendship becomes a relationship they can’t wait to start in earnest once Davey lands in London in a month’s time. But when Hannah goes to meet him at the airport, Davey isn’t there—and the reason why changes both of their lives in an instant. With their future together suddenly so uncertain, they don’t know what to do but try to move on from each other.  Though their chance at love seems lost forever, neither is never far from the other’s thoughts. Will fate intervene once more to bring the two together, or will Davey always be the man that Hannah never met? “A total delight . . . achingly romantic, full of suspense, and a beautiful cast of characters.” —Laura Jane Williams, author of Our Stop “Heartfelt, deeply moving, and so wonderfully romantic . . . This is the book everyone needs to curl up with.” —Jenny Ashcroft, author of Meet Me in Bombay “Told with tenderness, humor, and warmth, Hannah and Davey’s story will leave your heart aching for more.” —Holly Miller, author of The Sight of You “Funny, relatable, and heartfelt . . . I fell in love with Hannah and Davey on the first page, the second, the third, and every page until the end!” —Lauren North, author of The Perfect Son “This book has it all—laughter, tears, inspiration, warmth, and sparkle. I shall be thinking about Davey and Hannah for a long time.” —Tracy Rees, author of Amy Snow “I fell in love with The Man I Never Met . Never shying away from big issues, this beautiful love story was an absolute joy to read!” —Eleanor Ray, author of The Missing Treasures of Amy Ashton Elle Cook worked as a journalist and in PR before becoming a full-time novelist. She is the author of three historical novels under her real name, Lorna Cook. The Man I Never Met is her U.S. debut. Chapter 1 Hannah, December Do you remember where you were and what you were doing the moment your life changed forever? I do. I was standing outside the gym, hair in a bit of a tangle, in need of a shower after a grueling spin class, rifling in my bag for my gloves while my mobile buzzed away. But of course I didn’t know it at the time. That’s always how it is, though, isn’t it? You never realize the true significance of a moment until later. I grab my phone, still unable to find the gloves that have disappeared into the depths of my bag. The December weather is biting cold, and although it’s only early evening the sky is already a shade of ink, strewn with gray clouds that look as if they’ve been painted on and dragged gently from one side of the canvas to the other. The dialing code says +1 and so I pause momentarily as my phone continues to vibrate in my hand. Where on earth is +1? Call centers start with a random assortment of codes and this doesn’t look like any of those. “Hello?” I ask. “Hello,” a man, with an American accent, replies. And then in a deeper, friendlier tone, “Jonathan White?” I laugh. “Do I sound like a Jonathan White?” “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I mean, is he there?” “No. Sorry, you’ve got the wrong number.” A pause, a rustle of papers. “OK. Sorry. Bye.” “Bye,” I say, but he’s already gone. And then barely ten seconds pass before my phone rings again. I draw out the word “Hello” as I answer—­the same +1 number shining on my screen. “Oh, not again,” he says in exasperation. “How have I dialed it wrong a second time? I can’t be that stupid.” Which makes me laugh again, although not unkindly. “I think you have.” Silence and then, “Hold on.” I wait, smiling with amusement. The cold weather is seemingly not as cold now as it was before. “Is this plus-­four-­four . . .” and he reels out a list of digits that are most certainly mine. “It is. What number were you looking for?” “This one.” I try not to laugh. “Shit,” he replies. “I wrote it down wrong. I’m supposed to call this number at four p.m. UK time, for a job interview.” “Not this number, I’m afraid. Maybe try switching one of the digits?” “Yeah,” he says uncertainly. “But which one? There’s about a billion possible combinations.” “I have no idea. Where are you ringing from?” “Texas.” “And you have a job interview with someone on a UK