Excerpt: 'Vérité' by Rachel Blaufeld

HEA contributor and author Rachel Blaufeld shares an excerpt from her new contemporary romance release, Vérité. And don't miss Rachel's twice-monthly In Bed With a Romance Author posts on HEA.

About Vérité:

That's me—Tingly Simmons—athlete, foreign-language major, professor lover, obsessed idiot girl. Definitely not a frat rat or sorority slut. I've never even played beer pong.

I ditched the vapid, soulless high-society life of Los Angeles for the promise of something more meaningful in rural Ohio. Accepting a track scholarship for college, I tried running my way to happiness, but instead I ended up sleeping with my French professor and falling head over heels for him.

When that relationship fell apart, so did I.

Barely hanging on by a thread and using the most absurd coping skills, I was determined to hide behind my past indiscretions. That was, until I met Tiberius Jones. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd learn the truth about love from a six-foot-five basketball player.

Rachel shares a bit more about the story and sets the scene for us …

Rachel: I was in the middle of crafting one of my beloved bad boys when the idea for Vérité came to me …

What if I didn't write a typical bad boy?

What if an all-together-girl didn't save the train-wreck-of-a-guy?

What would happen if a messed-up young woman found the truth about love with a man she least suspected to find it with?

A young man who appeared to be so far away from the stereotypical jock?

These thoughts plagued me for several nights until Tiberius Jones fully came to life in my head.

Immediately, I stopped what I was doing and wrote about the truth not always being what it seems. I flipped stereotypes around, taking little snippets of what many young women experience in college and twisting them to create Tingly Simmons. Upon first glance, she appears to be a confident blond-haired, Beverly Hills spoiled brat, but inside she isn't sure of anything. She's a mess, and she rightfully owns it. Running and seducing grown men are her only coping mechanisms –– Tingly believes this will be all she has in life until she meets Tiberius.

In the most unsuspecting of places, surrounded by the craziest myriad of coeds, Tingly finds the true meaning of family and unconditional love.

This story means a lot to me because I know many young women who feel as though they must be perfect and hide all their messiness deep down inside. They feel alone in their thoughts and uncertainties and desires. In Vérité, the reader experiences Tingly growing and challenging all her inner demons, both on her own and with Tiberius at her side. He fights for her –– for Tingly this is a big win because no one has ever fought for her before.

I'm so honored to share an excerpt with HEA readers today. This one in particular is special because it is from when Tingly and Tiberius first meet, and they're both still judging one another based on what they see — race, gender and social status — before all the stereotypical notions are blown to bits.

EXCERPT

My new friend sat next to me, very tall and yet broad. I couldn't stop my gaze from drifting, taking little side glances at him while I pretended to read. The room was warm, and when he tugged off his hood and lifted his sweatshirt over his head, his T-shirt rode up, revealing the standard-issue six-pack for male athletes.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the book in front of me, but my attention wandered again as he pulled out a textbook for freshman English.

God, he's a freshman. Was that what I was reduced to ... ogling jail bait?

The guy was crazy handsome in an exotic way. His skin was a rich brown, neither dark nor light. In stark contrast, his eyes were the palest shade of blue I'd ever seen. They were two translucent aquamarine orbs that complemented a perfectly formed nose, well-defined eyebrows, and luscious lips. His dark hair was clipped tight, but would probably curl if allowed to grow. And then there were his arms. Every time he moved, his sleeves lifted past his bulging biceps and defined triceps.

There was zero fat on this dude's body. He was a specimen. For a freshman. Not to mention, he was probably one of those beer-pong-loving jocks about to turn frat boy.

And I wasn't getting involved with anyone, certainly not with a party boy with looks to kill, and trouble written all over his long, lean frame.

I hadn't realized I'd spent the whole hour studying this kid until the proctor stood and dismissed us. When I tossed my book back into my bag and stood to leave, the object of my obsession unfolded himself from his tiny chair and said, "Hello, officially this time. I'm Tiberius. Guess I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"I guess," I said, and turned to head toward the door.

"You got a name?" he asked from behind me.

Surprised, I turned to face him and hugged my bag closer, like a shield. "I'm sorry, that was rude. Tingly," I said, waving my fingers in the air as if they were asleep and all tingly. It was my go-to gesture when telling someone my name, really more a defense than an explanation. I'd rather make light of something so toxic than reveal the disgust that rolled through my stomach every time I heard someone shout Ting-lee.

"Well, I dunno what sport you play, Ting-lee, but you could definitely win the weirdest-name-I-ever-heard contest," he said with a chuckle. "This may be the first time I met anyone with a stranger name than me."

Sadness bled through me. God, even this kid couldn't just leave my name be; it did nothing more than remind me of my past. The one before Pierre, the real reason I was such a mess. Except there wasn't enough therapy in the world to get me to relive that s***.

"I know," I whispered as I turned again to leave.

"Tingly," he called out. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Don't be mad; I thought it was funny. I didn't know it would offend you. You have a nickname?" he yelled after me.

As I walked away, I waved my hand in the air and dismissed his apology. "It's fine," I yelled back, then ran down the stairs and out of the building. The last time someone called me a nickname, it didn't exactly work out so well.

Find out more about Rachel and her books at rachelblaufeld.com.