(The Undergrad Years #1)
by AVERY ASTER
Foreword by Belle Aurora
Cover Design by Cover It! Designs
Interior Page Design by IRONHORSE Formatting
eBook List Price $2.99
Paperback List Price: $8.65
This summer, I’d planned to celebrate my eighteenth birthday in Europe with my fellow Manhattanites—Taddy Brill, Blake Morgan, and Vive Farnworth—until I caught my boyfriend screwing my mother. According to the police report, this vomit-inducing incident happened around the same time I’d supposedly blown-up my mother’s penthouse. Like I’m walking around Soho with a stick of dynamite in my Louis Vuitton purse—not! Now, my besties and I are in jail.Officer Ford Gotti, the Harley-wheelin’ biker cop who arrested us, keeps sticking his perfectly-sculpted nose into my case. His inked body is jacked like a superhero, and he says I can trust him. He wants me to fess up. I won’t. Not again. Why should I? My friends and I had a previous stint in juvie that nearly destroyed us. I gotta protect them and keep my mouth shut. Right?—Lex Easton, women’s studies major, motorcycle enthusiast, and virgin.The Undergrad Years is a New Adult contemporary miniseries about first loves, independence, and everlasting friendships. Interact with Avery while reading Love, Lex on Instagram and Twitter @AveryAster using the hashtags #UndergradYears #NewAdult. Swag and reader contests can be found on Avery’s blog at:AveryAster.com
from Chapter Two: Mister Softee
*set up: Lex recaps the most unfortunate things that have happened to her over the years.
Top Ten Fears & Worst Moments
of My So-Called Life
by Lex Easton
1. Puberty advice to pad my bra, or not wear one at all. I was nine then.
2. A locked refrigerator. No parent should starve their child. Birdie had called it food monitoring.
3. Paparazzi which has tormented and snapped photos of me (usually when I was at my worst) my entire life. Such as…when I’d eaten a chocolate and vanilla twist cone, dipped in a raspberry hard shell and dusted with rainbow sprinkles. Purchased from a Mister Softee truck, parked on Madison Avenue—while standing outside in one hundred degree weather with one hundred percent humidity, in a horizontal-striped-sheer-stretchy poly-blend sun dress—which had ridden itself almost entirely up my bum. How I knew it had ridden up my bum? See number 5.
4. A Vicodin, given to me by Dad to stop my hysteria, instead of a band-aid or a hug, after I’d fallen and scratched my knee on Madison Avenue while running from the Paparazzi. I was like eleven.
5. The photos of my backside, at the ice cream truck, appearing on the cover of The Manhattanite Times the very next day. The headline had read, “Alexandra the Great Swallows for Mr. Softee.”
6. A mother who has and forever will have a hotter body, prettier face, and better hair than I do. Even when I’m seventy years old and she’s like dead.
7. A father who was never around. Years have passed without him walking through our front door. I’m not sure he even knows Birdie sold the Central Park West mansion and moved to Soho last year. I should probably give him the new address.
8. The fear I’ll never meet or exceed my parent’s financial or professional success, regardless of what industry I work in. According to the economics class Vive and I took our senior year, I have less than a five percent chance to make it as an adult without riding my folk’s coattails to maintain this lifestyle. Poor Vive, her family is the second richest in North America. She has less than half a percent.
9. Infamy! I’ll forever be associated with the Easton’s.
10. Birdie and her full-on, balls-to-the wall sex with my high school sweet-heart. I had loved Kelle Sterling Dolley. Or at least, I thought I had.
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