What if…
Someone you barely knew asked you for a favor.
What if…
They needed you to be something you weren’t, in exchange for nothing. Unless you
count a mouth full of lies and a half-broken heart. Faker. Pretender. Liar. There are worse things to be called.
So would you do it? Would you?
Daphne Winthrop did.
And you’re about to find out what happens in the end.
Title : Things Liars Fake (#Three Little Lies #3)
Release Date : 1 February 2016
Author : Sara Ney
EXCERPT & TEASERS
I pay, trying to scurry undetected to the condiments, juggling my cardboard snack
tray awkwardly as I pluck a few napkins from the metallic holder. One, two… five
napkins.
That should be enough, right?
For good measure, I pluck out two more from the holder because sometime my
butter hands get out of control. I hate having buttery fingerprints.
Still clutching my ticket stub, I attempt to lift it to see which theater my movie is
playing in, but fail miserably and have to set everyth—
“Daphne?”
I freeze.
Look up.
Pivot.
Standing behind me in his navy blue pea coat, Dexter Ryan smiles crookedly down at
me.
He smoothes his hands down the front of his dark pressed jeans—or is he wiping
sweat off his palms?—and pushes his tortoiseshell eyeglasses up the bridge of his
nose.
I take it all in—every inch of him—from the preppy jacket, the glasses, the slight
cleft in his chin, up to the black cable knit winter hat when he suddenly removes it.
Instead of his hair being flatted by the hat, it’s unruly and a bit tousled. A rich brown,
his locks are wavy, shaggy and desperately need a trim.
He finger combs it out of his face.
“It is Daphne, right?” He asks, unsure of himself.
It’s hard to hold back my groan of dismay at being spotted, but I muster up a
cheerful, “Yeah. Hi. Dexter?”
He smiles then, his eyes shining behind his dark, tortoiseshell lenses. I mean—I
think his eyes are shining. Maybe it’s just the reflection of his glasses?
Those dark eyes dart down to my snacks, the ticket stub grasped between two
fingers on my right hand. His brows go up. “Do you need help with anything? Sorry,
I’m an idiot; it’s obvious you’re waiting for someone.”
A nervous giggle escapes my lips, only I can’t smack a hand over my mouth to stop it.
“Gosh thank you. I don’t need help,” I hurriedly say. “I just have to see which theater
I’m in, but I’m having a hard time with…”
All my food.
“It’s just you?” His head cranes around, confused. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Of
course it’s not just you. Why would it be?” His deep voice gives a forced, nervous
chuckle.
Wow, this is about to get awkward. “Nope, it is just me,” I barely manage to get the
words out. “I’m here alone.”
Dexter’s eyes go wide, sending his brows straight into his hairline. His mouth even
falls open a little but no sound comes out.
“Great,” I joke, more for my benefit than his. “I’ve rendered you speechless.”
I follow the line of his jacket, down to the hand tightly gripping his winter hat.
“No! Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t know what I mean.” Deep breath. “I’m here
alone, too.”
Suddenly, his mouth twitches into a goofy grin, and my green eyes fly make a beeline
to his lips as they form the words, “Which movie are you here to see?”
Those lips.
Huh?
Instead of formulating a response, I find myself trying not to stare at a perfectly
sculpted upper lip and a full mouth surrounded by a days’ worth of five o’clock
shadow. Strong jawline. Straight, white teeth. And is that line in his cheek a dimple?
Dexter clears his throat, and I watch transfixed as the chords in his neck flex when
he reprises, “Which movie are you here to see?”
Huh?
“Huh?”
Jesus, I have some serious issues. And if Dexter think I’ve gone space cadet on him,
he doesn’t let on; his brown eyes are kind. Friendly. Sincere without a trace of
egotism. “What movie?”
Oh god. Could this be any more humiliating? The guys asked me the same question
three times.
“Uh… StarGate?”
Don’t judge me! Don’t judge me, Dexter! I want to shout. I want to hide behind my
massive bucket of popcorn. Yes, it’s true! I am at a nine o’clock screening of StarGate,
the twenty-year-old movie turned nerd cult classic of all time.
By myself.
As in: alone.
On a Saturday night.
A pleased grin quirks, his thick brows shoot up for a second time in surprise before
he clears his throat. “Me too.”
Dexter briefly glances down at his ticket stub, pushing his glasses back up the bridge
of his nose with a forefinger. God, it’s such a sweet gesture I actually cock my head
and stare.
Truth be told, I could probably stare at him all night.
It’s been all of three minutes and I find him charming, adorable, and unassumingly
handsome. The kind of handsome that sneaks up on you.
He clears his throat again. “It’s, uh, in theater twelve. Let me just…” He reaches
around me then to grab a few napkins for himself, though he’s only carrying a
medium soda.
No popcorn. No candy. No snacks.
Wait. No snacks?
Who doesn’t get snacks at the movies? Who?
Self-conscious of my gluttony, I back away, wielding my embarrassing armload of
junk food, face flaming hot. “I guess I should go find myself a seat. Yeah. I should go
do that. The previews have probably already started and those are my favorite
part…”
Stop talking Daphne!
Dexter nods and grapples for a few more napkins.
Oh brother; between the two of us, we have enough napkins to last us through Armageddon.
About The Author
Retail marketing and advertiser by trade, I am a university club advisor with a
passion for creating awkward fictional characters that readers can relate to. That
are real. I enjoy writing fast-paced, humorous manuscripts with empowered female
characters.
I love: reading, travelling, meeting new people.... latte's, rainy days, and sweater
weather.
