Better by Carey Heywood Exclusive!

I’m a big fan of Carey Heywood’s work. Better was no exception to this rule. I really enjoyed it, and I’m excited to bring you this exclusive excerpt!!  Check it out! Don’t forget to enter the gorgeous giveaway as well!

Once I’m off the plane, I call my mom to let her know I’ve landed. She has bad news for me. Adam had something come up and will not be picking me up from the airport. She’s going to text me his address so I can take a cab there instead. He’s going to leave a key with a neighbor for me.

Awesome, or the opposite. I make my way to baggage claim and have no trouble finding my giant
suitcase. There’s a queue for taxis cabs right outside. I’m on my way to Adam’s apartment in no time. As we flow through traffic, I feel a sense of pride bloom within me. I realize even though I’m still in the States I have managed to deal with a change in plans easily and am on my way to where I need to be by myself.

The cab pulls up in front a six-story brick apartment building. I glance up and down the street. It’s congested. I can’t imagine trying to find a parking spot, but then I remember my mom had said Adam doesn’t have a car. The cab driver pulls my suitcase from the trunk and leaves before I can thank him. The main door to the building has a buzzer type system to it. Adam’s neighbor, Mr. Wiltshire, buzzes me in. I heft my suitcase up four flights of stairs. Mr. Wiltshire is there waiting for me with the key. I thank him, and once I have Adam’s door open, practically fall into his apartment.

Once the door is locked behind me, I take a look around, mainly in search of a bathroom. The apartment is small, studio-style. I’m curious where I’m supposed to sleep tonight. His style is minimalist, which makes sense given how small the place is. I can’t ignore the photos on his walls. The wall behind his sofa has exposed brick, and the photos are wire-mounted in brushed nickel frames. They’re black and white, mountains, lakes, lighthouses. There are also a series of objects in extreme close up: doorknobs, hinges, and rivets. I linger at each one, captivated, until my stomach grumbles.

I’m poking around his kitchen when he walks in, dinner in hand. I blush, closing the cabinet I was looking in and wave. My mouth drops when I see him. He really should update his avi because covering that face with a camera should be a crime. He sets bags of take out on the coffee table.

“You must be  Aubrey,” he says, reaching out his hand. I gulp when his folds around mine. He’s tall, with a lanky build and light brown hair that falls into his grey eyes. I repress the urge to reach up and run my fingers through it. My stomach clenches, an uncontrolled physical reaction to him.

I haven’t had or even thought about sex in years.

Excerpt From: “Better By Carey Heywood

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