Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I’m nervous as I search for updates about the race, but I can’t deny a small thrill that courses through me when I see that Lex won the Bahrain Global Prix. I have a genuine moment of pride and happiness for him, but then I give myself permission to wash it down the drain. I acknowledge my bitterness that I would have been by his side had things not gone horribly wrong, and it’s tinged with anger that I got blindsided by the press because of him.
A small part of me screams that he wouldn’t do that, but the fear lingers. Why would someone like me ever get a fairy-tale ending? I’m just an ordinary girl who tried to fit into an extraordinary world and somehow… this seems fitting because life isn’t full of happily ever afters.
As I read through other headlines, my heart sinks further. There’s a short article entitled, Romance Author Infiltrates Crown Velocity Under False Pretenses. I suppress a shudder as I click on it, take a deep breath and start to read.
In a shocking revelation, it has come to light that Posey Evans, an aspiring romance author, has been masquerading as a journalist to gain access to the high-stakes world of Crown Velocity Racing. The situation escalated just before the Bahrain Global Prix, leading to chaotic scenes in the paddock as reporters confronted Evans about her true identity.
I swallow hard, each word feeling like a dagger and my face heating with delayed mortification. My name is out there now, and it’s only a matter of time before this reaches the romance world. The article goes on, detailing the anonymous tip that revealed my secret and how I refused to comment on the allegations.
My eyes widen with shock as I read on:
Team principal Harley Patrick responded with an astounding claim that she had known about Ms. Evans’s true identity all along.
“I recognized Ms. Evans’s name as I’m a big fan of her romance fiction. I thought it was adorable that she was so passionate about her work that she was willing to attempt a dupe to get the inside track—no pun intended—on this sport,” Harley is quoted as saying. “Posey will bring a fresh perspective and new eyes to formula racing, and I believed it beneficial for both her and our team. FI is exploding in popularity and part of that is an ever-growing legion of female fans. I thought it would be great to have a female author shine light on the sport in a way that would bring more fans to the track.
“And it shouldn’t stop at fans. We have Brienne Norcross as the first female owner of an FI team, I’m the first female team principal, and we have women in all manner of important positions, from engineers to pit crew. One day soon, we’ll have a female driver at this level, and how great will it be to have an author out there writing love stories around that.”
A check of retailers and her author website shows that Posey Evans has been writing historical romance for the past three years with moderate success and great reviews of her books.
Attempts to contact Ms. Evans have gone unanswered, as have attempts to get a statement from Lex Hamilton, who is rumored to have had a romantic relationship with the young author.
I stare at the screen, my heart racing. Harley knew? She’s read my books? The thought is unfathomable and only leaves me utterly confused. My brain is still trying to make sense of things when the doorbell rings.
Instinct grips me and I know, without a doubt, it’s Lex.
Not in a million years did I expect him to come here because I’d concocted the scenario that he tipped off the reporters to dump me. However, after reading the article and learning that I apparently was not leading a secret, nefarious life, I’m not sure what to believe anymore.
But I’m terrified to face him. I consider ignoring it, but then he knocks with growing insistence. “Posey!” he shouts, his voice both annoyed and weary. “Let me in!”
I close my eyes, leaning against the table for support. Emotions rush me—anger, sadness, love—and I’m unsure how to handle any of it. I take a moment to breathe, to steady myself before I finally walk to the door and pull it open.
And there he is, looking bedraggled and worn but still so very handsome, with a duffel bag in one hand. His hair is tousled, and his eyes are shadowed with exhaustion.
“Lex,” I whisper, as I step aside to let him in. “What are you doing here?”
He looks irritated as he drops his bag to my floor. “Apparently chasing you halfway around the world because you ran and I can’t understand why,” he grumbles, shoving a hand through his hair. “I took the first flight I could get and economy was the only option available, and yes, while I’m used to flying first class, I’m not above sitting in coach if that’s all there is. The only problem was I had to sit on the tarmac for five fucking hours because of mechanical difficulties, crammed in between a man who kept sleeping on my shoulder and a baby who wouldn’t stop crying. I went through all that, missing post-race celebrations I assumed the girl I’m crazy about would be at my side for, that she would’ve been cheering me on during the race, only to find out she abandoned me. I’ve barely slept in the last twenty-seven hours and I’m cranky.”