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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Excerpt and Giveaway: Love, Lex (The Undergrad Years #1) by Avery Aster

Published: April 14th, 2014

Cover Design by Cover It! Designs
Interior Page Design by IRONHORSE Formatting

Description: 17+

This summer, I’d planned to celebrate my eighteenth birthday in Europe with my fellow Manhattanites—Taddy Brill, Blake Morgan, and Vive Farnworth—until I caught my boyfriend screwing my mother. According to the police report, this vomit-inducing incident happened around the same time I’d supposedly blown-up my mother’s penthouse. Like I’m walking around Soho with a stick of dynamite in my Louis Vuitton purse—not! Now, my besties and I are in jail.

Officer Ford Gotti, the Harley-wheelin’ biker cop who arrested us, keeps sticking his perfectly-sculpted nose into my case. His inked body is jacked like a superhero, and he says I can trust him. He wants me to fess up. I won’t. Not again. Why should I? My friends and I had a previous stint in juvie that nearly destroyed us. I gotta protect them and keep my mouth shut. Right?

- Lex Easton, women’s studies major, motorcycle enthusiast, and virgin.

EXCERPT 



Excerpt from Chapter Five: Sweet Motor Cop Jesus 

*the set-up: Alone in the jail cell after Lex’s besties are bailed out, Officer Ford Gotti asks her a few questions. 

Shoulders broad, Officer Gotti stood tall near the cell. The doors opened. My friends walked out and waved goodbye. 

He stared at me as if ready to come back for round two. His face said, “LIAR!” 

I hadn’t lied to Officer Gotti. Earlier, I’d admitted my guilt. I just hadn’t corrected Taddy and Vive as they professed my so-called innocence moments ago. Nor had I been honest to the judge when we’d pleaded not guilty. 

Okay, Okay, Okay. Who was I kidding? Certainly not myself. I was a lying piece of Hedda’s poo. How could I tell the truth? What if this went to trial? What if Birdie didn’t take the blame? 

We’d learned from past experience not to tell the authorities a thing. They weren’t our friends. 

I was mad at myself for admitting I’d started the fire when they first asked. I hadn’t imagined it would end in an entire penthouse floor being destroyed. 

The doors closed. 

He didn’t leave with them. He kept on watching me. 

A guard walked back and forth checking the cells. 

I used that time to ask myself two important questions. One, was I nervous to talk to him by myself? Hells yeah! And two, could I keep my mouth shut, not telling the truth without my besties here to talk for me? Maybe. Maybe not

Suddenly, from the top of my head to my tippy toes, a tingle started. It wasn’t from the synthetic orange fabric I wore. Oh no. This was a sensation of hyperawareness. I’d felt self conscious before but this was ridiculous. 

His expressive face, catalog model-worthy for sure, talked to me. His mind was racing in judgments about who I was and what I’d done. His accusatory stares infuriated me. 

For some unknown reason, I wanted his approval more than anything. I ached for him to believe me and that today was an accident, a misunderstanding. 

Fudge, I didn’t even know him. I shouldn’t give a flip what he thought about me. I didn’t care how the TV portrayed me or what Birdie and her fans thought of me either. This explosion wasn’t only putting my plus-sized bum on the line but my besties boney butts as well. I had to stick to the story. 

After the guard had gone and it was just me alone in my cell, Officer Gotti stepped closer. 

Both of us remained silent. 

The room spun as my WWF, Scorpion King, Hulk on a Harley, inked up demi-god mirage in the desert returned. 

My vision blurred. Confused? Heck yeah. Tummy tossing? I felt oddly aroused. I know! 

At a time like this, how could I be…horny? I just blew up Mom, and my two besties had left me. My hormones rocketed into overdrive. I forced a smile to show he didn’t make me nervous. Heat came off my skin. Slowly I wiped the perspiration off the back of my neck by knotting my hair into a bun. That was a ladylike trick I’d learned at Avon Porter. 

“You okay? Now that your friends are gone.” 

“Woo, it’s warm in here is all.” I was scared as hell but I wouldn’t show it.


About the author:
I'm a thirty-something New Yorker who lives on the Upper East Side. I write THE MANHATTANITES, a contemporary romantic soap opera of full length, stand alone novels, and it's juicy prequel, companion series THE UNDERGRAD YEARS.

My novels that are out now include UNDRESSED, UNSCRUPULOUS, LOVE LEX, and YOURS TRULY TADDY. In 2014 I'll be releasing XO BLAKE, UNSAID, and UNIQUE.

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