Sneak Peek Friday

Hi, everyone! I’m really excited about releasing The Boyfriend Thief next month and can’t wait for you to read it. The first chapter in its entirety is coming up soon as a free preview, but in the meantime I’m giving you little snippets from later chapters in the book.

When Avery accepts Hannah’s offer to win over Zac Greeley in exchange for the money she needs for her trip, she thinks it’ll be easy. A little flirting, whatever, done. But Zac doesn’t make it so simple…

Excerpted from The Boyfriend Thief by Shana Norris:

I pulled away from the curb as Zac looked around my Honda, inspecting the gleaming interior and plastic seat covers.

“How long have you had this car?” Zac asked.

“Since I got my license last year,” I said. “It’s used, but it’s in pretty good condition.”

“It’s in perfect condition. It still has that new car smell.”

“Oh, I clean it a lot,” I said, shrugging. “It didn’t look this good when I bought it.”

Zac tapped the seat cover. “Let me guess, the plastic is your doing?” I glanced over and saw him grinning impishly at me.

“I don’t want anyone spilling stuff on my seats,” I said. “You can never be too careful. And on that note, eating and drinking inside the car is strictly prohibited. That’s rule number one for all passengers in my car.”

“You should live a little.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Taking the plastic off my seats and risking stains is living a little?”

“Stains tell a story,” Zac said, waving his arms as he spoke. “My car is full of random stains.”

This I didn’t doubt at all. I could imagine the mess that must have been Zac Greeley’s car.

“There’s this stain on my driver’s seat from the day I had the best cherry-lime-grape slushie ever.”

“Cherry-lime-grape?” I asked, shuddering. “Sounds disgusting.”

“Not if I make it. It’s an art and you have to have the right amount of cherry to lime to grape ratio. Anyway, I spilled some of it in my lap on my way back home and that stain is there to remind me every day of how awesome that particular slushie was.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You may like your belongings stained and dirty, but I value cleanliness and organization. I’ll keep my car slushie-free, thank you.”

There were only a few cars on the road as I turned a corner and pulled into the subdivision where Zac lived. The streetlights every few yards cast shadows across the dashboard as I drove, illuminating Zac’s face in the corner of my eye for a moment.

“Let me guess, you were the kid all the other parents told their kids to be more like, right?” Zac asked me. “You had the perfectly clean room, with all your toys put away as soon as you were done playing, and you happily did all your chores.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel and I stared straight ahead as I drove. The sting in the corners of my eyes warned me not to look at Zac or risk letting him see my weakness. “Actually no. I used to be messy and disorganized. My dad always threatened to throw out all of my toys if I didn’t clean my room up every now and then.”

I could feel Zac’s eyes on me, as if he didn’t believe that and was looking for a sign that I was lying.

“What happened?” he asked after a moment. He patted my shoulder. “Brain transplant, right?”

My laugh came out like a snort. “Yes, Zac, I’m the world’s first successful brain transplant patient.”

“You never know what secrets the government is hiding from us. So, really, what happened to the messy Avery of yesteryear?”

“Well…my mom left.”

Zac sucked in a deep breath. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

I was thankful for the darkness. At least that way I didn’t have to see the look of pity I knew he was giving me right then. Everyone gave me that look, which was why I never talked about my mom except when necessary.

“It’s fine,” I told him. “But when she left, I started cleaning and organizing. And then I figured out that made me feel better.”

Zac’s fingers tapped out a soft beat on his knee. “You felt in control,” he said. “You couldn’t control your mom’s leaving, so organizing everything else in your life gave you some back.”

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, silent for a moment as I drove on. Who knew Zac Greeley was an amateur psychologist in disguise?

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said at last.