Here is a chapter two sneak peek of our book Sticking to Emma Daniels! (I had technical computer issues with posting yesterday, so I’ll post chapter 2 & 3 today!). We are going to give sneak peaks all week long leading up to our release date next week. You can read more about our book right here and you can pre-order it here! All proceeds will go towards removing ads on our site!
If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes then please let us know; and if you are from Vancouver (where this novel is set) and notice anything irregular, then let us know that as well, and I can make appropriate changes!
Deep breath. There are those cartoons where smoke comes out of the character’s ears and the top of their head pops off from the buildup of steam and rage. That is exactly how Emma felt at this moment. It was the loudest she had ever spoken to anyone in public – or private for that matter. Though she supposed she was speaking at them rather than to them. Whatever the case, she surprised herself more than anyone else in the room, guaranteed.
But, welp, she had done it now.
Even though all the eyes in the restaurant were now looking at her – and this woman and this man and figuring out what was going on without anything needing to be explained to them and throwing their hands over their mouths and tapping their friend or mother or brother on the shoulder to look or pulling out their cell phone to record it – Emma could not stop now.
“Babe, it’s not what it looks like,” her boyfriend said.
“Not what it looks like?” the woman he was with, who was much too pretty to be liked, asked and crossed her arms, “is this that other chick? I thought you got rid of her a month ago.”
“Got rid of?” Emma asked, well, more like breathlessly croaked, all the air in her chest deflating her into a sad little stretched out balloon.
“Babe, let me explain,” her boyfriend stood up and tried to hold her arm. Emma pulled it away and stared confused pitiful daggers at him.
The other woman shook her head and looked off to the side, ‘try me’ written all over her face, “call her babe one more time, see what happens.”
“What is going on?” Emma said because she still did not get an answer to that, and for some reason, even though it was painfully obvious what in fact was going on, she felt like she needed one.
“Ba –” he looked at the other woman. She tipped her eyes at him silently inferring, you better not or this glass of water right here is going straight in your face and a kick might be in your groin. He winced, “Listen, I can explain, let’s go outside?”
“We got back together,” the woman cut in, because women like that always cut in. She was sitting back, and her arms were folded showing her disdain for Emma more than this situation as a whole. “We were on a break while he was messing around with you.”
Emma looked at her boyfriend, expecting him to jump in at any moment to clarify.
“I thought she didn’t even live here,” the woman continued, “did you fly here to see him?” she said to Emma, “Have you been talking to her again?” her eyes rolled back to the boyfriend.
Keeping up with who this woman was talking to would make bobbleheads out of everyone. At least, it made one out of her boyfriend who looked like someone had scooped his brain out like some exotic ice-cream.
“No, sometimes, listen, ba – I mean, not babe, listen. What are you doing here?”
“How long have you been cheating on me?” Emma asked, the tears boiling along with a confused fire of frustration bursting to get out.
“Trick, you are the other woman, not me. We’ve been dating for three years.”
Um. No, that was not right. Emma did not know what to say to that, she just looked at her boyfriend who was avoiding her gaze, rubbing his head, looking at the floor, and swiveling his body as if trying to think of something to say that would soften this wrecking ball of a blow coming at them but dodging it instead, leaving Emma to get hit all by her lonesome self and rammed into the wall.
It was only fair to return the favor.
The slap came before Emma even knew she was about to throw it. It came from way way back by the front door, or maybe up in the rafters, or maybe wherever Halle’s Berry’s slap came from in Boomerang. The kind of slap that has the emotions of five hundred women behind it. It ripped forward cutting through the air like a hand-shaped missile leaving a thunderous Mach five sized strike on her now ex-boyfriends befuddled face.
His head twisted around like he was part owl and the restaurant gave a collective gasp that, honestly, should be bottled and sold to TV stations.
“Keep him, you look like you love licking dirt off the floor anyway.”
Oh, snap. Go on Emma.
Oohs and ahs echoed around the room. Clapping started from somewhere.
Unfortunately, those cheers, gasps, and claps snapped Emma back to the reality that she was currently being watched getting cheated on by dozens of people, some of them probably filming this. It would be on YouTube or somewhere and everyone would see it. Great. This morning she thought lady luck was smiling on her with this trip, but she really just opened her mouth to spit a big fat one right on Emma’s tongue. It was gross.
The new chick, or perhaps the old-new chick who knows, was speechless and huffing up a response. Not the quickest on her feet, that one, which did make Emma feel a tad bit better as she spun on her heel to get the heck out of dodge.
As quickly as she could she grabbed her luggage at that GQ guy’s table with a swiftness and glided out of the restaurant as fast as she could go. She didn’t think she should run. That felt wrong, like she was trying to get away from the situation, which, granted, she was, but she didn’t want to show that! She wanted to look cool, in control, confident. To have an air of he-was-lucky-to-have-me-what-an-idiot swagger. If only her insides would cooperate and weren’t currently melting into that stuff you find coated on the faucet in public bathrooms.
Feeling the cold rush of air as soon as she stepped outside was a welcome crisp sting to her face. She honestly was so hot it was like lava was coursing through her shirt and settling in her cheeks. Thank the Lord for brown skin to keep the world from noticing her embarrassment.
But man was she hot, especially in this sweater. She felt like a Wooly mammoth, the last lonely Wooly mammoth to walk these scorched singleton streets alone. Perhaps she should take it off.
She didn’t even need her oversized sweater on, which is saying a lot for Emma because she was from Texas, and she currently lived in LA. Vancouver-cold may as well be Antarctica-cold. But she shouldn’t dilly dally for all she knew Reddit ready cameras were still trained on her.
It took no time to curse her way up the sidewalk, pop her luggage into the trunk, and peel away back into the quiet normal street of I-can’t-believe-that-just-happened-wow-where-are-my-tissues. She thought she heard someone yelling behind her which gave her all the more reason to peel off as quickly as possible. It was only when she turned left on a street up the road that a bike rider came flipping over their handlebars and tumbling across her car hood.
She stared, stunned. Her hands gripping the steering wheel.
No! Universe, just stop it! How much more can a girl take in the span of ten minutes? Throw me a bone, please!
While unfastening her seatbelt, she was sure to definitely blame this on her ex-boyfriend and his horrendous choice of mistress. If he was going to cheat, at least make it a celebrity. And no, those are not tears burning to the surface of her eyes. She quickly popped her rental car door open and got out to inspect this poor soul she most assuredly injured and….
Black hair, crisp khaki’s, studious the-world-is-mine-aren’t-I-lucky look…
Was this GQ luggage guy?