Cover Reveal for UnStable By M. Piper

UnStable

By M. Piper

Release: Late 2017

Other books in the series

UnPlanned: http://amzn.to/2i4OVzQ

Cover Design: Inked Imprints

Synopsis:

Mackenzie Mueller doesn’t take me seriously.

She says I’m an alcoholic. I say I’m living in the moment. She says I’m immature. I say she’s stuck up. She says I need to be more serious. I say I tried that, and it broke my heart. She says I’m the best she ever had. ...I tend to agree. She says we’re not good together. She’s lying.

After losing the love of my life before my twentieth birthday, I was sure I’d never love again. I’ve spent the past five years living like it’s my last day on earth, every day. Girls, booze, and as much family time as posible filled my weeks.

But mostly the booze...

Then, Mackenzie walked into my life and suddenly I have purpose again. She’s made me care. She’s made me feel.

She’s made me love.

The only problem is that she doesn’t understand me, and her heart’s been crushed too hard and too recently to take a chance on the city’s ‘wild child’. She’s convinced I’m not in it for the long haul.

I’m about to prove her wrong.

As long as I can make it past December 4...

Excerpt:

“How long’s it been?” Reagan, my little sister, asks from my couch. She’s practically moved herself in, minus the whole actually moving in part, but I don’t mind. I’m rapidly approaching a date I can’t be alone for. Having her here will help the pain. Plus, she keeps this place clean and I’m not about to complain about that.

“Six days,” I mumble, taking another swig of my beer and staring at my goddamned phone. Mackenzie never accepted my request and now I feel like a fucking tool. Who doesn’t get a girl’s phone number? Who relies on a Facebook friend request to get a girl? Apparently I do.

“Maybe she doesn’t have the app on her phone,” Reagan says, wincing as the words fall from her mouth.

“Maybe you’re just an idiot,” I grumble, finishing off my beer.

“Maybe you’re just drunk. Already. At noon on a Saturday.” She stands and takes the bottle from me, dumping it out then opens the fridge. “Ford, you have nothing but bread, butter, and beer.”

“I like things that start with B,” I say, stretching in my seat. “Bread, Butter, Beer, Boobs,” I say, then laugh.

“Balls. You like balls too, big bro?” She grins at me and I throw a bottle cap at her, making her laugh harder. “Hey, let’s go back to the bar tonight. Maybe she’ll be there.”

“I have work tomorrow. I can’t be hung-over, Reag.” I don’t want to work tomorrow. I want to sleep in after drinking the night away, but my manager’s out of town and someone needs to be there to make sure shit flows smoothly for this wedding shower.

“You don’t have to get drunk every night, Ford. We can go to a bar and not leave plastered.” She shrugs and walks over to me. “I think you need it. You’ve not left the house but to go to work all week.” Her eyes hold more than she’s saying, but she’s not verbalizing her worry for me and for that I’m thankful.

I narrow my eyes at her and take a deep breath. “I’m fine, Reagan.”

“Good. We’re leaving in twenty.” She grins and pats my cheek before heading back to my spare bedroom.

I groan and roll out of the chair, blinking a few times because I may be buzzed already, then head back to my room to grab a fresh shirt. I’m not planning on getting smashed tonight, but a couple more beers won’t hurt. It helps numb the pain that etched its way into my soul years ago. One simple evening turned into a life changing event, and now the only thing that takes away that pain is alcohol.

Well, that and Mackenzie. When I’m with her, I forget about the pain; it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

Each year around this time I think it’ll be easier, but each year it ends up hurting more than the one before it.  I lost the love of my life when I was eighteen. I’m twenty-three now and still have no purpose in my life. No desire to do anything better. When I’m around Mackenzie is the only time in the past five years that I’ve wanted anything more than a quick fuck. I want conversation. I want her past.

I want to forget mine.