The Fab Life Blog Tour w/ Excerpt~Giveaway



Blurb

It’s the life I was born to live: billionaire’s daughters, living amongst the rich & famous. But my mom kept me a secret from my dad. Until now.

I am so out of my league. Fancy parties, expensive cars, and a private school for the elite… It sounds like a dream. But everything is not as perfect as it seems on the outside. Here, the secrets are dirty, and the lies comes easy.

Welcome to my fab life.

The Fab Life Links

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18069199-the-fab-life

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author Bio

I am a YA/ NA author, with an addiction to NOS & Red Bull energy drinks. My guilty pleasure is the TV series The Lying Game and The Vampire Diaries. I'm 23 years old. I currently live in St Louis, with my husband of 2 years.

Stalk Links

Website http://www.mercyamare.com/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/authormercyamare

Twitter https://twitter.com/MercyAmare

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6464549.Mercy_Amare

 



Excerpt

My palms are sweating, and my heart literally feels like it’s going to beat it’s way out of my chest. I decide that I may vomit before the night is over, but hopefully it won’t be on myself or Ty. I run my hand over the bannister was I walk down the stairs. I keep in there incase I trip, which is very possible. I try to focus on the steps and not on the fact that I’m about to go out of my first date.

Gah. I hate that word. Date. It’s too gray. I like black and white. Nothing about this night is black or white.

I count the steps as I walk down. There are exactly 32 steps from the top floor to the bottom floor. When I get to the bottom, I am forced to look up at Ty. He looks good. Really good. Dammit. He doesn’t look nervous at all. In fact he looks completely cool. Of course he’s cool. He’s probably been out on like a million dates before. Why should he be nervous?

I am relieved to see that he’s wearing jeans and a concert shirt. I didn’t underdress or overdress, and I’m glad I decided to wear jeans. I’m going to ask Toby’s advice more often.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and then hands me a bouquet of purple flowers.

Flowers = date, right?

Ugh, why does this suddenly feel awkward?

I take them from him. I have no idea what kind of flowers they are. I feel like I should know, but it’s not like I frequently get flowers from guys. “Thank you. They are beautiful.”

What am I supposed to do with the flowers? Am I supposed to take them with us? Or am I supposed to leave them here? There should a Dating for Dummies book that covers this. Maybe there is. Memo to self - look it up. I will be more prepared next time.

Next time? Calm down, Kihanna, I tell myself. Let’s get through tonight before we start thinking about a second date.

 



 

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