Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for Secrets Don't Keep! Today I have a great excerpt from the book to share with you - and don't forget to enter the giveaway!
Secrets Don’t Keep Synopsis:
My name is Kera Collins, and I would do anything for a golden nod.
At first glance, my life appears perfect: the best friends, the best school, the attention of Dex Albright, the deliciously irresistible grandson to the Headmaster. All I need is the prestige behind La Boheme, an elite secret society formed within the walls of my school, and my life would be complete. Once I’m in, I’ll be the one with all of the secrets.
It’s just…no one told me these secrets could kill.
Before I can answer or complain about feeling like a third wheel, a rumble of laughter catches my attention. I look up and frown when I realize it’s a table full of boys. My heart stops. A table full of boys and brown eyes staring at me from across the room. My breath catches in my throat.
I know those brown eyes. They’re here. In the VIP lounge. With Logan and Trent? A guy sitting next to him asks a question and he turns away to answer. I grab for Season’s hand.
“Holy shit. Season. It’s him. The new guy!”
She twists in her seat to look and lets out a puff of air.
“Dexter Albright III.” She turns and catches my eye briefly before studying her menu. “…the headmaster’s grandson.” She says this last piece of information just above her breath, and for a second I think I’ve misheard her. I scoot closer to the table and lean over to where our noses are almost touching.
“I’m sorry. Did you say the headmaster’s grandson?”
She nods, still staring at the menu, and I glance at Sebastian who is acting enamored by the brick behind me. They’re both avoiding me.
I tap my fingers on the table and wait to see who will be the first to crack. I study Season, currently biting her lip and bouncing her foot. I give her 30 seconds. Sebastian on the other hand is a vault. His iron clad demeanor won’t be saying anything anytime soon.
I hide a smile when I see Season’s eyes flutter.
She’s so close.
Sebastian turns to look at her and reaches down to squeeze her knee. She shakes her head and I lean forward again, prepping myself to pounce. I know her body language too well. She’s on the verge of spilling everything. I clear my throat quietly and she sighs.
“Fine.” She shoots Sebastian a look and then looks at me. “Sebastian stumbled on his transcripts last year. Goes by Dex; hates the nickname Trey. He comes from another boarding school. Left because of some issue surrounding bad blood between their administration and The Grove. According to some emails we found between him and an unknown source, apparently his grandfather wanted him here because of certain…opportunities.”
Sebastian raises his arm in an attempt to get a server’s attention and then turns to look at me.
“Golden ones I’m sure, but the emails never specified,” he says, and that’s all I need to know.
Dex. I roll the name around my tongue and smile. An electric current sweeps through my veins and I chance a glance at their table. I nearly spill my water when I see the look Dex is giving me. If looks could peel off clothes, or willingly undress me layer by layer, I would be splayed open by now. I fight to keep eye contact, my whole body buzzing with the attention. I’ve been the recipient of this look before and it always makes my skin crawl. Yet, this feels different. Or at least my hormones have me ignoring any warning signs.
Elora Ramirez has been telling stories her whole life. It started when she was four, when she taught herself how to read and write as a way to entertain herself while her grandmother kicked and danced in aerobics class. She cut her teeth on books from Dr. Seuss and writing anywhere she could find the space -- including her Fischer Price kitchenette, the pages of picture books, and Highlights Magazines. She's matured a bit since then, now choosing to write in the margins of her books and on the mirrors of her apartment ideas and thoughts surrounding story and what makes us human. You can read more on her blog, eloranicole.com
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