Chloe was three years old when she became Chloe Holden, but her adoption didn’t scar her, and she’s had a great life. Now, fourteen years later, her loving parents’ marriage has fallen apart and her mom has moved them to Joyful, Texas. Starting twelfth grade as the new kid at school, everything Chloe loved about her life is gone. And feelings of déjà vu from her early childhood start haunting her.
When Chloe meets Cash Colton she feels drawn to him, as though they’re kindred spirits. Until Cash tells her the real reason he sought her out: Chloe looks exactly like the daughter his foster parents lost years ago, and he’s determined to figure out the truth.
As Chloe and Cash delve deeper into her adoption, the more things don’t add up, and the more strange things start happening. Why is Chloe’s adoption a secret that people would kill for?
Today I’m sharing a chapter excerpt of In Another Life!
1
“What are you doing?” I ask when Dad pulls over at a convenience store only a mile from where
Mom and I are now living. My voice sounds
rusty after not talking during the five hour ride. But I was afraid that if I said anything, it would all spill out: My anger. My hurt. My disappointment in the man who used to be my superhero.
Mom and I are now living. My voice sounds
rusty after not talking during the five hour ride. But I was afraid that if I said anything, it would all spill out: My anger. My hurt. My disappointment in the man who used to be my superhero.
“I
need gas and a bathroom,” he says.
need gas and a bathroom,” he says.
“Bathroom? So you can’t even come in to see
Mom when you drop me off?” My heart crinkles up like a
used piece of aluminum foil.
Mom when you drop me off?” My heart crinkles up like a
used piece of aluminum foil.
He meets
my eyes, ignores my questions, and says,
“You want anything?”
my eyes, ignores my questions, and says,
“You want anything?”
“Yeah. My freaking life back!” I jump out of the car and slam the door so hard, the sound
of the metal hitting metal cracks in the hot Texas air. I haul ass across the parking lot, watching my white sandals eat
up the pavement, hiding the sheen of tears in my eyes.
of the metal hitting metal cracks in the hot Texas air. I haul ass across the parking lot, watching my white sandals eat
up the pavement, hiding the sheen of tears in my eyes.
“Chloe,”
Dad calls out. I move faster.
Dad calls out. I move faster.
Eyes still down, I
yank open the door, bolt
inside the store, and smack right into someone. Like, my boobs smash against someone’s chest.
yank open the door, bolt
inside the store, and smack right into someone. Like, my boobs smash against someone’s chest.
“Crap,” a deep voice growls.
A Styrofoam cup hits the ground. Frozen
red slushie explodes all over my white
sandals. The cup lands on its
side, bleeding red
on the white tile.
red slushie explodes all over my white
sandals. The cup lands on its
side, bleeding red
on the white tile.
I swallow the lump in my throat and jerk back,
removing my B cup boobs from some guy’s chest.
removing my B cup boobs from some guy’s chest.
“Sorry,” he mutters, even though it’s my fault.
I force myself
to look up, seeing
first his wide
chest, then his eyes and the jet-black hair scattered
across his brow. Great! Why couldn’t he be some old fart?
to look up, seeing
first his wide
chest, then his eyes and the jet-black hair scattered
across his brow. Great! Why couldn’t he be some old fart?
I return to his bright green eyes and watch
as they shift from apologetic to shocked, then to angry.
as they shift from apologetic to shocked, then to angry.
I should say something—like, add my own apology—but the lump
in my throat returns
with a vengeance.
in my throat returns
with a vengeance.
“Shit.” The word sneaks through his frown.
Yeah, all of this is shit! I hear Dad call my name again from outside.
My throat closes tighter and tears sting my eyes. Embarrassed to cry in front of a stranger,
I snatch off my sandals and dart to a cooler.
I snatch off my sandals and dart to a cooler.
Opening the glass door,
I stick my head in needing a cooldown. I swat a few stray tears off my cheeks. Then I feel someone next to me. Dad’s not letting
this go.
I stick my head in needing a cooldown. I swat a few stray tears off my cheeks. Then I feel someone next to me. Dad’s not letting
this go.
“Just admit you screwed up!” I look over and am swallowed by those same angry light green eyes from a minute ago. “I thought you were
. . . Sorry,” I say, knowing
it’s late for an apology. His look is unsettling.
. . . Sorry,” I say, knowing
it’s late for an apology. His look is unsettling.
He continues to glare. An all in my face kind of glare.
As if this is
more than a spilled
slushie to him.
more than a spilled
slushie to him.
“I’ll pay for it.” When he doesn’t even blink, I add an other, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you here?” His question
seethes out.
seethes out.
“What? Do I know you?” I know I was rude, but—hotness aside—this guy is freaking me out.
His eyes flash anger.
“What do you want?”
His tone carries an accusation I don’t understand.
“What do you want?”
His tone carries an accusation I don’t understand.
“What
do you
mean?” I counter.
do you
mean?” I counter.
“Whatever you’re trying to pull, don’t do it.”
He’s still staring me
down. And I feel like I’m shrinking in his glare.
down. And I feel like I’m shrinking in his glare.
“I’m not
. . . You must have me mixed up with someone else.” I shake my head,
unsure if this guy’s as crazy as he is sexy. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about. But I said I’m sorry.” I grab a canned drink and barefoot, carrying sticky sandals, hurry to the front of the store.
. . . You must have me mixed up with someone else.” I shake my head,
unsure if this guy’s as crazy as he is sexy. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about. But I said I’m sorry.” I grab a canned drink and barefoot, carrying sticky sandals, hurry to the front of the store.
Dad walks in, scowling.
“Careful,”
a cashier says to Dad while mopping up the slushie just inside
the door.
a cashier says to Dad while mopping up the slushie just inside
the door.
“Sorry,” I mutter to the worker, then point to Dad. “He’s paying for my Dr Pepper! And for that slushie.”
I storm off to the car, get in, and hold the cold Diet
Dr Pepper can to my forehead. The hair on the back of my neck starts dancing. I look around, and the weird hot guy is standing outside the store, staring at me again.
Dr Pepper can to my forehead. The hair on the back of my neck starts dancing. I look around, and the weird hot guy is standing outside the store, staring at me again.
Whatever you’re trying to pull, don’t do it.
Yup, crazy. I look away to escape his gaze. Dad climbs back in the car. He doesn’t start it, just
sits there, eyeballing me. “You know
this isn’t easy for me either.”
sits there, eyeballing me. “You know
this isn’t easy for me either.”
“Right.” So why did you leave?
He starts the
car, but before
we drive off, I look around again and see the dark haired boy standing in the parking lot, writing on the palm of his hand.
car, but before
we drive off, I look around again and see the dark haired boy standing in the parking lot, writing on the palm of his hand.
Is he writing down Dad’s license
plate number? He’s
a freak. I almost say something
to Dad but remember I’m pissed at him.
plate number? He’s
a freak. I almost say something
to Dad but remember I’m pissed at him.
Dad pulls away. I
focus on the rearview
mirror. The hot guy stays there, eyes
glued on Dad’s car, and I stay
glued on him until he’s nothing but a speck
in the mirror.
focus on the rearview
mirror. The hot guy stays there, eyes
glued on Dad’s car, and I stay
glued on him until he’s nothing but a speck
in the mirror.
“I know this is hard,” Dad says. “I think about you every day.”
I nod, but don’t speak.
Minutes later, Dad pulls over in front of our mailbox. Or rather Mom’s and mine. Dad’s home isn’t with us anymore. “I’ll call you tomorrow to see how your first day of school was.”
My gut knots into a pretzel with the reminder that I’ll be starting as a senior
at a new school. I stare out at the old house, in the old neighborhood. This house once belonged to my grandmother. Mom’s been
renting it to an elderly couple for years. Now
we live here. In a house that smells like old people . . . and sadness.
at a new school. I stare out at the old house, in the old neighborhood. This house once belonged to my grandmother. Mom’s been
renting it to an elderly couple for years. Now
we live here. In a house that smells like old people . . . and sadness.
“Is she home?” Dad asks.
In the dusk
of sunset, our house is dark. Gold
light leaks out
of next door,
Lindsey’s
house—she’s the one and only person I know my own age in town.
of sunset, our house is dark. Gold
light leaks out
of next door,
Lindsey’s
house—she’s the one and only person I know my own age in town.
“Mom’s probably resting,” I answer. There’s a pause. “How’s she doing?”
You finally ask? I look at him gripping the wheel and staring at the house. “Fine.” I open the car door, not wanting to draw out the goodbye. It hurts too much.
“Hey.” He smiles. “At least give me a hug?”
I don’t want to, but for some reason—because under all this anger, I still love him—I lean over the console and hug him. He doesn’t even smell
like my dad.
He’s wearing
cologne that Darlene probably
bought him. Tears sting my eyes.
like my dad.
He’s wearing
cologne that Darlene probably
bought him. Tears sting my eyes.
“Bye.” I get one slushiedyed foot out of the car.
Before my butt’s off the seat,
he says, “Is she
going back to work soon?”
he says, “Is she
going back to work soon?”
I swing around. “Is that why you asked about her? Because
of money?”
of money?”
“No.”
But the
lie is
so clear in his voice, it hangs in the air.
But the
lie is
so clear in his voice, it hangs in the air.
Who is this man? He dyes the silver
at his temples. He’s sporting a spiky haircut
and wearing a Tshirt with the name of a band he didn’t even know
existed until Darlene.
at his temples. He’s sporting a spiky haircut
and wearing a Tshirt with the name of a band he didn’t even know
existed until Darlene.
Before I can stop myself,
the words trip off my tongue. “Why? Does your girlfriend
need a new pair of Jimmy Choos?”
the words trip off my tongue. “Why? Does your girlfriend
need a new pair of Jimmy Choos?”
“Don’t, Chloe,” he says sternly.
“You sound like your mom.”
“You sound like your mom.”
That hurt now knots in my throat. “Pleeease. If I sounded like my mom, I’d
say, ‘Does the whore bitch need a new pair of Jimmy Choos!’”
I swing back to the door.
say, ‘Does the whore bitch need a new pair of Jimmy Choos!’”
I swing back to the door.
He catches my arm. “Look, young lady, I can’t ask you to love her like I do, but I expect you to respect
her.”
her.”
“Respect her? You have to earn respect,
Dad! If I wore the clothes she wears, you’d ground me. In fact,
I don’t even respect you anymore! You screwed
up my life. You screwed up Mom’s life. And now you’re screwing someone eighteen years younger
than yourself.” I bolt out and get halfway to the house when I hear his car door open
and slam.
Dad! If I wore the clothes she wears, you’d ground me. In fact,
I don’t even respect you anymore! You screwed
up my life. You screwed up Mom’s life. And now you’re screwing someone eighteen years younger
than yourself.” I bolt out and get halfway to the house when I hear his car door open
and slam.
“Chloe. Your stuff.”
He sounds angry, but he can just join the crowd, because I’m more than mad—I’m
hurt.
He sounds angry, but he can just join the crowd, because I’m more than mad—I’m
hurt.
If I weren’t afraid he’d follow me into the house all pissed off and start an argument with Mom, I’d just keep going. But I don’t have it in me to hear them fight again. And I’m not sure Mom’s up to it either. I don’t have an option but to do the right thing.
It sucks when you’re the only person in the family acting like an adult.
It sucks when you’re the only person in the family acting like an adult.
I swing around,
swat at my tears, and head back to the curb.
swat at my tears, and head back to the curb.
He’s standing beside his car, my backpack in one hand
and a huge shopping bag with the new school clothes he bought me in the other. Great. Now I feel
like an ungrateful bitch.
like an ungrateful bitch.
When
I get to him, I mutter, “Thanks for the clothes.” He says, “Why are you so mad at me?”
I get to him, I mutter, “Thanks for the clothes.” He says, “Why are you so mad at me?”
So many reasons. Which one do I pick? “You let Darlene turn my room
into a gym.”
into a gym.”
He shakes his head. “We moved your stuff into the other bedroom.”
“But that was my room,
Dad.”
Dad.”
“Is that really
why you’re mad or . . . ? He pauses. “It’s not my fault
that your mom got—”
why you’re mad or . . . ? He pauses. “It’s not my fault
that your mom got—”
“Keep thinking that,” I snap. “One of these days, you might even believe it!”
Hands full, chest
heavy, I leave my onetime
superhero and my broken heart scattered on the sidewalk. My tears are falling
fast and hot by the time I shut the front door behind me.
heavy, I leave my onetime
superhero and my broken heart scattered on the sidewalk. My tears are falling
fast and hot by the time I shut the front door behind me.
Buttercup, a medium sized yellow mutt of a dog, greets me with a wagging tail and a whimper. I ignore him. I drop my backpack, my shopping bag, and dart into the bathroom. Felix, my red tabby
cat, darts in with me.
cat, darts in with me.
I attempt to shut the door in a normal way instead
of an I’mtotallypissed way. If Mom sees me like this, it’ll upset her. Even worse, it’ll fuel her anger.
of an I’mtotallypissed way. If Mom sees me like this, it’ll upset her. Even worse, it’ll fuel her anger.
“Chloe?” Mom calls. “Is that you?”
“Yeah. I’m in the bathroom.” I hope I don’t sound as emotionally ripped
as I feel.
as I feel.
I drop down on the toilet seat, press the backs of my hands against my forehead, and try to breathe.
Mom’s steps
creak across the old wood floors. Her voice sounds behind the door. “You okay, hon?”
creak across the old wood floors. Her voice sounds behind the door. “You okay, hon?”
Felix is purring, rubbing his face
on my leg. “Yeah. My stomach’s . . . I think the meat loaf I had at Dad’s was bad.”
on my leg. “Yeah. My stomach’s . . . I think the meat loaf I had at Dad’s was bad.”
“Did Darlene fix it?”
Her tone’s rolled and deep fried in hate.
Her tone’s rolled and deep fried in hate.
I grit my teeth. “Yeah.”
“Please tell me your dad ate a second helping.”
I close my eyes, when what I really want to do is scream, Stop it! I get why Mom’s so angry. I get that my dad’s a piece of shit. I get that he refuses to take any blame, and that makes it worse.
I get what she’s been through.
I get all of it. But does she
have a clue how much it hurts me to listen
to her take potshots at someone I still sort of love?
I get what she’s been through.
I get all of it. But does she
have a clue how much it hurts me to listen
to her take potshots at someone I still sort of love?
“I’m going to sit out on the patio,” she says. “When you’re out, join
me.”
me.”
“Uh huh,” I say.
Mom’s steps
creak away.
creak away.
I stay seated and try not to think about what all hurts, and instead
I pet Felix. His
eyes, so green,
take me back to the boy in the store. Whatever you’re trying to pull, don’t do it.
I pet Felix. His
eyes, so green,
take me back to the boy in the store. Whatever you’re trying to pull, don’t do it.
What the heck did he mean?
If this synopsis and chapter interests you, keep this title on your radar! This book comes out
March 26th!
You can purchase the book here: