Exclusive Snippet: Beautiful Liar
Have you read my Billionaire Romance, Beautiful Liar? Grab the exclusive e-book for FREE by joining the Reader Roundtable at nataliewrye.com/subscribe and READ the never-before-seen snippet below.
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He was everything she suspected. And way, way more.
The man was built like a god.
He stood tall and muscular in black gym clothes with a phone at his ear. Mouth set in resolve, black baseball cap on, his cotton-covered hat covered his eyes, leaving his strong, scruff-covered jaw exposed. His lips were full and inviting. They didn’t spread into a smile as he spoke and somehow that was even sexier.
Head bowed, voice low, he leaned into the phone as he scolded the person on the other end, and through it all, Saturday’s instincts drew her near, helping her to hear.
She’d never been nosy before.
But there was something about the stranger she felt drawn to, something almost dark. Getting this close to a man she didn’t know was dangerous, but she was too curious now… and she just couldn’t help herself.
“You listen to me, carefully. I told you what I wanted, and that’s not what you did. So, from now on, you will do exactly what the fuck I tell you to… and I am not going to tell you twice.”
His face was like stone. He was pissed. She imagined how much more pissed he would be if he saw her, leaning into listen, when she placed her weight on the fruit cart, sending citrus bouncing everywhere, the whole contraption lurching forward as runaway fruit scattered in a millions different directions. Saturday swore out loud, scrambling after it.
It was chaos.
Kicking kiwis sideways, punting grapefruit with her combat boots, she chased the half-rotten globs right off the lot while everyone watched.
Like she was a madwoman. She felt like one.
Hair strewn all over, the naïve New Yorker felt the heat hit her cheeks as she struggled to gather the groceries in her arms… until she felt a figure swoop in to help her. Mr. Bossy in Black, himself, had placed his phone in his pocket and began to help her collect all of the fugitive produce.
SHIT.SHIT.SHIT.SHIT.
Their arms brushed past each other as they worked on returning the fruit to their proper bins. Her hair stood on end every time. Others walked around them during the whole debacle (this fucking city, I tell ya), but he made quick work of the process, placing things back in her basket and on the stand. She grabbed the last lime from the edge of her foot and placed it on the display mantle when she felt him moving behind her, without a word, his presence nearly as quiet as a shadow’s.
She stood from her kneeling position. Brushing her hands on her shorts to free them of grime, she pulled her back straight, using her shaky hands to swoop wild strands of hair back behind her ears.
She knew she had to say something to him. She had wanted to since the moment she saw him.
And now, after what he’d done, she couldn’t just leave or ignore him. As sad as it was, he was the only person to have helped her, the only person to have lended a hand since she’d moved to that Godforsaken state.
She felt her pulse galloping like a racehorse… and gave into it, sucking up her fear.
Despite her disheveled appearance and nerves, the discombobulated blonde decided that she would put on her best face to thank the helpful man: Mister Bossy Man, Mr. God-you-smelled-really-good-and-seem-so-cute. She exhaled loudly, put on her biggest smile and turned around. She stuck out her right hand to greet him, but the air was empty.
There was no more voice, no phone, no fruit. The air felt as if it had been sucked from her lungs and had taken the handsome man with it.
The space he once occupied now felt cold… and to Saturday’s disappointment, the only man to help her, the only man in New York to capture her attention in over ten months, was nowhere to be found.
***
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