Skeptic in a Skirt, book 2 in the Love Ever After series, is now on pre-order. Here’s a pre-edit sneak peek of Chapter 1!
Raw and unedited, just for you =)
***
Best. Dream. Ever.
I was dressed in a gorgeous gown. And by gown, I meant gown. Never in my life had I worn a floor length dress, let alone one made of a fabric so fine the material alone probably cost more than my used Corolla, and that didn’t even take into account the embroidered detail that was clearly handstitched.
And I would know—about the cost, the hand stitching, the fabric, everything—because my BFF Hillary was a professional shopper with excellent taste and a need to share all things fashion with her bestie.
What gown was complete without accessories? Or so the dream version of myself had decided, because I was decked out.
Gloves covered my forearms, past my elbow to the middle of my almost nonexistent bicep. (Someone needed to get to the gym more often.) The cool weight of a necklace rested against my neck. A flash of brilliance at my wrist had me wondering if I was sporting a matched set, and if I was—wow. If I wasn’t dreaming, I’d be worried about getting mugged, even standing in a rose-scented garden with the sound of people and music trickling in from the distance.
Paranoid much? Nope. The stones on my wrist looked expensive. As in house-down-payment pricey. Big sapphires surrounded by diamonds, and there they were, hanging out on my wrist, looking fabulous.
I knew my jewelry, and this bracelet was gorgeous, vintage, and not crystal. I even had a rough estimate of its worth in my head. Like I said, house-down-payment level wow, and that was just the bracelet.
A deep and abiding love of jewelry was a dark secret I kept squirreled away from Hillary. She’d have me “investing” in period pieces in two seconds flat. I was practical; she wasn’t. I was a planner; she wasn’t. I loved rice cakes; she loved Funyuns. I had a retirement account; she had four struggling businesses.
We were opposites, not in the ways that really mattered when it came to friends, but certainly when it came to men, money, and work.
But if Hills ever discovered my love of jewelry… I shuddered. She’d have my fiscally cautious side in detention, and I’d buy all the sparkly things. I wasn’t usually susceptible to her spontaneous, Funyun-eating influence, but throw a little bling in front of me and the combination of my bestie and my biggest weakness would be too much.
Speaking of sparklies, the piece of jewelry encircling my wrist begged for further inspection and admiration and maybe a little stroking and petting.
I blamed my love of sparkly things and the exquisite beauty of the particular piece I was examining for my inattentiveness. Also, hello? Dream. Who paid attention in dreams?
That was why the voice caught me so off guard.
Two simple words: “Pardon me.”
I turned. All right, I tried to turn, but floor length gowns and I have never been on a first name basis, and it didn’t go well.
Strong arms and a spicy, woodsy scent enveloped me.
Did dreams smell good?
Whatever. I was dreaming, and it smelled amazing.
He smelled amazing.
“Excuse me.”
That voice. My insides might have melted.
“Are you unwell?” the man attached to the very nice arms asked. He probably made it to the gym five days a week.
Wait…
Dreams didn’t have lovely smells, nice arms, or British accents.
***
Skeptic in a Skirt is now available for pre-order! And the first book in the series, Heartache in Heels, is available on most major ebook retailers and in paperback.
