Excerpt
1
When the speech starts, something about her voice is
not right. But when I look up from the brochure, I forget about her voice
altogether.
Her eyes.
I know that look in them. Haunted and lost.
I sit up straight in my seat and tune in to her speech.
I frown as I start to pay attention to what she says. She has some kind of
notes in front of her, but she’s not reading them. I don’t think she’s saying
what she’s written on them at all. She speaks of hardship, loss, and the
ability to put everything behind through hard work. I have a hunch she’s
referring to something more than what’s happening here today. Her porcelain
skin gets paler with every word. Her eyes become glassy before long, and then
she tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear. I’m sure as hell she wiped
away a tear.
No.
Someone like her shouldn’t be crying. Hurting.
I suddenly have the urge to hold her, do whatever it
takes to stop what is hurting her. Make that look in her eyes disappear, and
make her smile instead.
It’s an urge I don’t recognize.
I also have another urge. I recognize this one. The
urge to bite that full lower lip of hers, and run my tongue down her neck, all
the way to that sweet hollow. And then rip her shirt. Button by button. Better,
even. Rip them apart all at once and cup her breasts. Twirl my tongue around
her nipples.
Fuck.
I’ve got to get a grip. I’m so aroused I’d like
nothing better than to disappear with her into an empty classroom. But I don’t
think she’s the type. Her skirt is a few inches too long for her to be that
type.
Even if she were . . . I’d like to do things a
little differently than usual.
First, I’d put a smile on her face.
Then I’d get her to beg me to take her.
When everyone applauds and she leaves the stage, I
stand up and walk to the front, planning to start the first thing right away.
After she shakes the parents’ hands, and hugs one of the girls who won, she
stops in front of a guy who puts his arm around her waist and kisses her.
On her lips.
The view hits me like a whiplash. Of course she has
a boyfriend. It’s not like she would wait for me, the biggest fuck-up among
fuck-ups, to make her smile. She already has someone who can make her smile.
Except she’s not smiling. After they break from the
kiss, her expression hasn’t changed. Whatever causes her torment, the idiot
she’s with has no idea how to make it better. Someone like her should always
smile. She deserves someone who can make her smile. And this idiot is far from
what she needs.
Excerpt 2
I see someone
who looks vaguely familiar at the bar. She has long black hair and large round
eyes. It bugs me that I don’t remember where I saw her before. I have a good
memory when it comes to people. Especially women. And especially when they look
like her.
It's only when she tucks a strand of
hair behind her ear that it hits me where I saw her before, making that same
gesture—last year at the award ceremony of that math contest I sponsored.
She was the mentor. I grasp my empty glass firmly in my hand, remembering the
details of that day. It took me long enough to forget them. I look around for
that rat of a boyfriend who was with her then, but he isn't anywhere. The only
person she seems to be with is the inebriated blonde sitting next to her at the
bar.
I scrutinize her, trying to understand
what she’s doing in a place like this. She doesn’t belong here. I’m not exactly
sure where she belongs, but it’s not here. At any rate, she didn’t strike me as
a particularly outgoing type of girl when she was on that stage. I think I know
why she’s here. I've seen this look before in women. The hunched shoulders. The
unsure gaze. Yes, she wears the unmistakable signs of someone who's been
dumped, and who’s trying, but failing, to forget about it. These signs in women
usually make me want to run in the opposite direction.
This time, it has an entirely
different effect on me. It makes me want to do what I didn’t have the courage
to do last year. Walk up to her. I wanted to make her smile then. The haunted
look she had in her eyes back then isn’t as visible now, but it lingers there
somewhere. Just like it lingers in me. When it takes over again, I want to make
sure she has someone who can put a smile on her beautiful face.
And I still want to taste her lips and
those delicious-looking breasts, just like I wanted back then.
(Lost in Us #0.5)
Publication date: March 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Publication date: March 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
**Lost is a prequel novella to Lost in Us and can be read before or after. **
Whatever might help him forget his past and numb the pain, James has tried it all: booze, car races, fights, and then some. Especially women. College offers plenty of opportunities for everything. . . Especially when you have a trust fund to spend.
Serena spirals deeper and deeper into a hurricane of pain. But no matter how far she falls, there’s no redemption from the overwhelming guilt.
Two souls consumed by their pasts fight to learn how to survive. But all hope seems to be lost.
Until they meet each other.
Whatever might help him forget his past and numb the pain, James has tried it all: booze, car races, fights, and then some. Especially women. College offers plenty of opportunities for everything. . . Especially when you have a trust fund to spend.
Serena spirals deeper and deeper into a hurricane of pain. But no matter how far she falls, there’s no redemption from the overwhelming guilt.
Two souls consumed by their pasts fight to learn how to survive. But all hope seems to be lost.
Until they meet each other.
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**Note: at the time of posting, the novella is only free on goodreads and smashwords. But it will be free on the other retailers every second now, so please check the above links.
----
AUTHOR BIO
My name is Layla Hagen and I am a New Adult Contemporary Romance author.
I fell in love with books when I was nine years old, and my love affair with stories continues even now, many years later.
I fell in love with books when I was nine years old, and my love affair with stories continues even now, many years later.
I write romantic stories and can’t wait to share them with the world.
And I drink coffee. Lots of it, in case the photo didn’t make it obvious enough
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