With just two days to go until NATURAL LOVE’s release, I thought I’d post a treat for you all today. Below is a never before published excerpt from the story.
She twisted toward me some more in the seat and propped her elbow on the console. Now, with her face only inches away from mine, she looked at me. “Do you think that’s weird?”
“Depends on what you heard. I mean, if you heard—”
“You know,” she said. “Stop doing what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I said, trying to sound innocent. “I’m just wondering exactly what you heard.”
She shrugged and tried to hide a knowing smile, but it didn’t work. Not even close. “She sounded like she liked it. She really did.”
“At least I have that going for me.”
“It went on for a while.” She let out a long breath.
“It did? A long time? How long were you out there?”
“Remember that girl you brought home for Thanksgiving your freshman year at Penn?”
“Wharton,” I corrected her. “I didn’t just go to Penn. I went to Wharton.”
“Penn. Wharton. Same thing.” She swallowed. “Either way, you spent a lot of time in Pennsylvania hating life and trying to live up to our family’s impossible standards.”
“And failing,” I said, and I couldn’t focus anymore. The damn scent of Avery’s perfume distracted me again. What was it? Chanel? Victoria’s Secret? Lancôme? Whatever it was, it was heaven. Heaven in a bottle. Heaven on my stepsister. Heaven I needed to smell every day.
Every. Damn. Day.
I was so screwed.
“The girl from last night reminded me of that girl from Thanksgiving. Same type, right to the hair.”
“You remember the girl from Thanksgiving that well?”
“Yeah, I do. I remember all the girls you bring home.”
“That’s funny.” I pointed to my chest. “I don’t remember her that well.”
“Like I said, you have a type, Spencer. You don’t make it very hard.”
She didn’t say what I knew about these women, though—that they all resembled her. All of them. No deviation whatsoever. Not in the eye color, the body type, or anything. But they wouldn’t satisfy me anymore. I didn’t want a fake or a replacement. I wanted—and needed—the real thing.
Avery. Just Avery.
What the hell was happening to me?
“So.” Avery still stared at me. “Are you going to see her again?”
“I don’t know.” I closed my eyes again, this time partly to shut out the sight of her. The last part of my headache needed to leave, too, and soon. “No.”
“Good,” she said after a moment.
My eyes flew open. “Good?”