Summer Alone (Summer Alone #1) by Amy Sparling
Age Group: Young Adult
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 1, 2014
From the best selling author of Summer Unplugged, comes a new series set in the same world. Becca's senior year of high school is approaching and she's tired of being the dorky best friend.
Determined to reinvent herself with help from Bayleigh, she plans to spend the summer breaking out of her shell. When Bayleigh gets grounded and sent away for three months, Becca's plans come crashing down before they've even started.
Now Becca is alone and can't even talk to Bayleigh on the phone. Not wanting to miss out on the summer before senior year, she takes a job at the local indoor BMX track. The job is fun, her boss is laid back, and the place is packed with hot guys.
One of them just might have a crush on her. This may be a summer without her best friend, but it doesn't mean she'll have to spend the summer alone.
“Damn, Ollie, you got hot.”
I look up from my phone, confused, wondering where Ollie is since I thought he had left. Then I realize the guy who just spoke was looking at me. Talking to me. Making a stupid joke about me. Praise the gods of BMX—I wore a face full of make up today so hopefully the bright red I feel pooling in my cheeks doesn’t show as much as if I were bare-faced. “Hi,” I say, swallowing back my nerves. My right hand gestures toward the facility behind me. “Welcome to C&C BMX Park?”
Is that what I’m supposed to say? Who knows? I suck at this. “Thank you!” the guy says, stepping forward, wearing that smile like it’s permanently stuck on his face. He’s kind of cute, I guess. For a college-age guy. He has super short cropped hair and a neck tattoo that’s some kind of quote. He’s thin and lean. The bike he pushed in with him is all beat up and not shiny like the girl’s bike from yesterday.
He turns his attention toward the keypad on the counter, typing in a numerical code and then pressing his index finger to the glass window above the keys. My computer lights up with a message that Dustin Moore just signed in.
“You Ollie’s secret love child?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”
He laughs and the glass door slides open again, making my stomach knot up at the idea of a new customer. Eventually one of these people will need some kind of employee assistance and I still have no idea what I’m doing. Dustin turns back and waves his friend over. “Dude! I’m surprised to see you.”
I stare at the computer screen, trying to make sense of the software as his friend replies, “Told you I’d be here.” Dustin snorts. “You said that last time, then you bailed on me for Mixon.”
I go to smile at the new guy, determined not to make the stupid introduction that I had done with Dustin. If they’re members here, then clearly they don’t need to be introduced to the place. Exactly one second later, I completely forget everything in my head. I’m not even sure I know my own name or what I’m doing here.
Because the guy who walks up next to Dustin is hot. He’s knees weak, hands shaking, heart fluttering hot. Sandy blond shaggy hair that covers part of his eye. An eyebrow ring hovers over the other one, framing his impossibly blue eyes as they sparkle under the bright industrial lights. He’s tall and gorgeous and muscular, judging by the way his black Mongoose shirt fits over his shoulders, hugging tightly to his biceps.
And he doesn’t even notice me. He says something to Dustin and automatically types in a number, pressing his finger to the glass. He straddles his bike-matte black with red wheels-and squints his eyes, looking toward the ramps behind me.
My lip hurts and I realize I’d been chewing on it. I don’t know why my heart aches right now. This guy is older than I am, probably in college and old enough to buy beer, so it’s not like he would notice me. Me, stupid high school senior lame-o dork-o Becca Sosa.
“What’s your name?” Dustin asks me. I glance over at him and push away my momentary confusion. I had pretty much forgotten that he was here. “Becca,” I say. My eyes flicker to the computer screen. Dustin’s super beautiful friend’s name flashes across the screen as the last person to have signed in. Nolan Park.
“As in Re-becca?” Dustin asks, drumming his fingers on the counter. I’m about to nod when another voice interrupts. “Leave the girl alone, Dustin. She’s clearly not interested.” Nolan meets my eyes with an apologetic smile. My knees turn to jelly but somehow I manage to stay standing.
Dustin groans. “Aww, come on man. I’m just making friends. He extends his hand toward me and I go ahead and take it, because ignoring his handshake would be just as awkward as actually shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Becca. I hope we see you around here more often.” I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “Well, I work here so…”
Dustin laughs and Nolan pushes him toward the track. “Go. You begged me to come ride so let’s ride. Quit harassing the girl.”
In case you didn't know, Amy isn't my real name. It's a pen name I use to publish books and novellas for teens that have a romantic theme. My real name is Cheyanne Young and I also publish YA books under that name, but they are usually in different genres and for older age groups.
I chose the name Amy Sparling when I independently published my first book, Deadbeat. I wasn't sure if I would keep the pen name at first--I wasn't even sure if I'd keep publishing. But I got incredibly lucky and found a group of young adults who loved my stories and kept asking for more.
You guys seriously have made my writing hobby into the greatest part of my life. I will continue writing books under this name as well as publishing books of a different nature under my real name.