Meet Blake & Chloe in Where the Road
Takes Me
in this new coming of age novel by
Jay McLean
AVAILABLE
NOW!
Blurb
Chloe has one plan for the future, and one plan only: the
road. She’s made a promise to herself: don’t let anyone in, and don’t let
anyone love her. She’s learned the hard way what happens if she breaks her
rules. So she’s focused on being invisible and waiting until she can set out on
the road—her dream of freedom, at least for a little while.
Blake Hunter is a basketball star who has it
all—everything about him looks perfect to those on the other side of his
protective walls. He can’t let anyone see the shattered pieces behind the
flawless facade or else all his hopes and dreams will disappear.
One dark night throws Chloe and Blake together, changing everything
for Blake. For Chloe, nothing changes: she has the road, and she’s focused on
it. But when the so-called perfect boy starts to notice the invisible girl,
they discover that sometimes with love, no one knows where the road may lead.
Excerpt
#2 - Chapter One
There was that familiar ache that I loved so much—a burn
in my chest that spread to the rest of my body. There was just one other
feeling I loved more. Well—two, if you included the high of sex.
Numbness.
A constant state of numbness was my euphoria.
You couldn’t tell. No one could.
My feet thudded against the pavement. Sweat dripped from
my hairline, down my neck, and onto my bare back. I shut my eyes, urging the
numbness to kick in. I wanted to feel it everywhere. Not just in my body but
everywhere. Maybe I should quit basketball and take up smoking weed as a hobby.
I laughed to myself—Dad would love that. Another reason to kick my ass.
I rounded the corner with my eyes still shut. I knew that
path in the park better than I knew my own home. Which is why I was running at
two in the morning on a Saturday night. Sunday morning?
Whatever.
I was five steps past the corner—the numbness had just
started to seep in—when I bumped into something. My eyes sprang open, and I
found myself staring at someone on the ground.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I huffed, trying to level my breathing.
I rested my hands on my knees, waiting for the thumping in my heart to calm
itself. My skin stung and my muscles throbbed from the impact of our bodies. I
was six foot three, and my frame matched the constant training and rigorous
workouts it endured. Her—I couldn’t tell
what she looked like—but I knew this much: if the collision had hurt me, it
must’ve almost killed her.
She slowly came to a sitting position, resting her ass on
her heels. Her head was bent, and her loose blonde hair formed a curtain around
her face. She lifted her hands, palms up, and examined them. Blood.
“Shit! I’m so sorry.” A wave of panic whooshed through me.
Squatting in front of her, I took her hands to study the
damage. She yanked them away and sniffed, straightening her legs out in front
of her. Her short-ass skirt left nothing to the imagination.
“Dammit,” she whispered, her head still down.
My gaze moved from the hem of her skirt to her knees.
Blood.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I said for the third time.
It was dark, the only light coming from the moon and a
lamppost fifteen yards away. I wanted to see her face, but I sure as hell
wasn’t going to ask her to look at me. “Are you okay?”
Before she could answer, a rustling from the bushes
interrupted us.
A guy stepped out, close to my age. He looked rough,
rougher than the kids I hung out with—and I use that term loosely. He wiped the
back of his hand across his mouth, then eyed it. Blood.
His eyes narrowed. Looking down at the girl in front of
me, he seethed, “You fucking whore!”
Slowly, she stood up.
I swear I could actually hear the clicking of the pieces
as it all fell into place in my mind.
Him—with his fat lip, torn shirt, and undone fly.
Her—now fully standing. The top of her tank was ripped,
exposing one bra-covered breast.
I watched as her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed to
slits, but then fire flamed in them as she yelled, “Fuck you!”
He took a step toward her with his hand raised.
Before I knew it, I was between them, gripping his
forearm, my other arm behind me, wrapped around her waist. I could feel her
shallow breaths against my back.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, trying to pull away
from my hold.
“Blake. Who the fuck are you?”
He laughed once, a snarl on his lips and a challenge in
his eyes.
“What are you, her bodyguard?”
I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. I towered over
him, eying him down. I knew I could take him. Easily. “I don’t know, dickface.
Does she need one?”
He tried again to withdraw his arm. I grasped it tighter.
Then a cynical laugh escaped him. “Good luck. She’s a fucking tease— dresses
like a whore but won’t even suck dick.” He looked around my shoulder at her.
“You cock-teasing slut!”
Something in me snapped.
Blood rushed to my ears, and the numbness I’d hoped for
was well and truly gone. My arm—the one previously wrapped around her—moved
fast. My fingers had formed a fist and would have made contact with his face—
Would have—if not for the tiny blonde girl standing in front of me. Between my
intended target and me. With her entire body weight, she pulled my arm
downwards, her eyes widening. “Don’t,” she said. “It’s not worth it.” Her voice
was quiet, but her expression screamed for me to let it go. I was so surprised
by her actions that I dropped Dickface’s raised arm.
Glaring at the guy behind her, I tried for an even tone as
I warned, “You got three seconds to get out of here before I beat your ass.”
Her warm hands were now pressed against my chest, their
pressure causing me to inhale sharply. My eyes fell to hers. They were
pleading.
I heard “fuck this” and then heavy footsteps thumping
against the pavement, the sound growing gradually more distant. My eyes,
though, they never left hers.
After what felt like forever, she looked away.
I blinked for what seemed like the first time.
She suddenly noticed that her hands were still on my
chest.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” she said, pulling them away and hiding
them behind her back.
I swallowed. It was thick and embarrassingly loud, louder
than the beating of my heart in my eardrums. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
Bending slightly, I finally relaxed enough to catch my breath.
“Yeah, are you?”
Straightening, I studied her warily. She was a mess.
Scraped knees. Disheveled hair. Shoe missing. I looked away when I caught sight
of her purple bra, openly exposed from her torn top.
She cleared her throat.
I returned my gaze to her once she’d crossed her arms over
her chest, hiding herself. She bit the corner of her lip, but everything else
was still. There was no movement, not until she slowly raised her hand and
wiped her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
My eyebrows bunched. It’d been a while since I’d heard
such genuine sincerity. “It’s no problem. Really.”
She tried to smile and then adjusted her top while taking
off her remaining shoe. Then she just stood there, barefoot and shivering.
One arm at her side, holding her one and only heel, the
other covering her breast. “Well, thanks for saving me.” She laughed softly,
jerking her head toward the path behind us. “I better get going.”
I nodded, chewing on my thumb. Then some sense kicked in,
and I stepped in front of her, blocking her from walking away.
“You shouldn’t be walking anywhere alone, especially—” I
cut myself off. “Dressed like that” was definitely the wrong thing to say.
Instead, I opted for “especially this late at night.”
Her smile was tight. “I’ll be fine,” she assured me,
looking around at the darkness surrounding us.
She shivered again.
I pulled out my shirt, which I’d tucked into my shorts’
waistband, and handed it to her. “It’s probably wet—from my sweat— and it might
smell a little funky, but you’ll be warmer.”
Her face relaxed, and her lips curled up. “Thank you,
Blake.”
“You’re welcome, umm . . . ?”
She paused, searching my face. “Abby.”
“Abby.” I nodded in confirmation. “At least let me walk
you wherever you need to go.”
She seemed to hesitate before nodding slowly. “I need to
find my purse and my phone.” She studied me for a moment. “I don’t suppose
you’re hiding a phone anywhere on you I can use for light?”
I looked down at my
running shorts and sneakers. “No. But it’s in my car . . .” I pointed in the
direction of the parking lot. “We can grab it and come back.”
She cursed under her breath. “It’s okay. I don’t think
we’ll be able to find our way back here. Not when it’s this dark. I’ll come
back in the morning or something.”
I smiled. Knowing that park as well as I did had its
perks. “I know where we are. It’s fine.”
Grimacing, she asked, “Are you sure? You’re not . . . on
your way somewhere?”
My laughter echoed through the still air. “Yes, Abby, I’m
sure. Where would I be going dressed like this?”
She smiled then. Amusement danced in her eyes. “I don’t
know.” She shrugged. “To kill someone?”
“What?” I asked, surprised at her sharp wit. I turned and
began moving toward the lot.
When she caught up to me, she continued. “Think about it.
How many times do you hear on the news about dead bodies
being found in parks? You know who always finds them? Joggers.”
I turned to her, tilting my head slightly, trying to work
out whether she was serious or not. She tried to hide her smile before adding,
“It seems a little suspicious to me—you joggers always being first on the scene
and all. My theory is that you’re all a bunch of murderers, and you get away
with it, using the jogger clause.
Makes me wonder if you have some underground club where
you compare notes and brag about pulling off these murders.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “That’s one amazing
theory.”
“Well,” she said, nudging my side with her elbow, “at
least when you murder me, you’ll know that I was onto you, buddy.”
“Yet, here you are—walking with me in pitch-black
darkness, at two in the morning, to a more-than-likely abandoned parking lot,
under the impression I’m going to get you back to your necessities. You’re not
even slightly afraid of what might happen to you?” All joking aside, she had to
be a little worried. Surely.
The air around us turned thick. “No, Blake. I know I’m
safe with you.”
She said my name as if it had a different meaning.
We walked the rest of the way to my car
in silence.
About
the Author:
Jay McLean is the author of the More Series, including
More Than This, More Than Her, More Than Him and More Than Forever. She also
has two standalones coming soon titled Where The Road Takes Me, and Combative.
Jay is an avid reader, writer, and most of all,
procrastinator. When she's not doing any of those things, she can be found
running after her two little boys, or devouring some tacky reality TV show.
She writes what she loves to read, which are books that can
make her laugh, make her smile, make her hurt, and make her feel.
Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Facebook Fan Page | Twitter | Pinterest | Google Plus | Google Plus Jaybirds Group | Goodreads
For
publishing rights (Foreign & Domestic) Film, or television, please contact
my agent, Erica Spellman-Silverman, at Trident Media Group.
Giveaway
$50 Gift Card
Share
Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MDk5NjRmMDM5ZDM4YTBjYWM0YzAyYzM0NGI2ODRhOjU4OQ==/?
No comments:
Post a Comment