Title: unVerified
Author: Kristin Giese
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About unVerified:
Matthew
Milles-Lade, a rich kid whose trust fund is suddenly in question, and Margo
Valentine Melon, a writer whose career fizzled before it sparked, are two
twenty-something strangers stuck living at home, trying to figure out their
lives. When they each come across a real estate listing for a palatial (and
significantly underpriced) guest house in one of LA’s toniest neighborhoods,
their lives get turned upside down.
What happens next has
them racing to catch the truth before it catches them.
Unverified has all the magic and making of the rom coms
you love, set in the world of social media stardom and online fame, with just
enough real world stakes to make it a page turner you won’t be able to put
down.
Exclusive Excerpt:
“Kirby, when do you move in?” Maureen Melon
shrieked as Margo walked into the kitchen. “Did you hear that M&M? Kirby
bought a house!”
“Wow,” Margo said flatly, greeting the news with
the same enthusiasm as dental work.
“I close next week. And then after that,” Kirby
trailed off, lost in a haze of euphoria before exclaiming, “I’m gonna be a
homeowner at 24! Can you believe it?”
They both looked at Margo with stars in their
eyes.
“I can’t,” Margo echoed dryly…
Margo had moved home as a stopover after a
failed stint at Popler, the holy grail of fashion magazines, but that
was four years ago now. She’d nabbed the position her senior year and crammed
her entire world into two checkable duffel bags and flung herself across the country
to a rundown studio in Harlem. In real life it was 246 square feet of worn
walls and sloping floors.
Perfection, Margo had thought the moment the
door swung open. Her first day, she arrived ready to run the place. But, after
eight weeks of only filing, running errands, and fetching coffee, she surmised
she wasn’t being used to her fullest. So, with an abundance of
entitlement that she mistook for confidence, Margo marched into her boss’s
office. Lennox Stanton sat before her picking apart a vegan burrito like a
vulture clad in Balmain as Margo launched in: “People say you have to start at
the bottom, but I don’t think that applies to everyone. Some of us are meant to
start several rungs up. I’m happy to get your coffee every once and a while,
Lennox, but I’d like to be given more challenging duties if I’m expected to
remain in my position.”
Five minutes later, Margo was on the corner of
45th and Times Square holding the contents of her desk, three packages of
Little Debbie snacks, and a fake cactus. Lennox Stanton had fired her.
Her parents had encouraged her to bootstrap a
way to stay in New York. “I’m not just taking any job, Dad,” she’d protested.
“I wanna write, not wait tables.” The next day, she bought a ticket home. “It’s
fine. I’ll take this time to write,” she informed her parents as she hefted her
suitcase off the baggage carousel. Their worried glances said they weren’t so
sure.
Kirby, on the other hand, skyrocketed. While
waiting in line for coffee in between her classes Kirby had met a coding
student, David, from the technical school across the street. Together, the pair
formed a resale fashion start-up, Blush & Bashful, selling Kirby’s vintage
finds. Surprising even to them, it took off and took them with it. Kirby went
from a girl with no professional drive to driving a Mercedes in two short
years. As far as Margo was concerned, that ride, metaphorically and literally,
was supposed to have been hers.
“Earth to Margo!”
Margo shook free from the memory to find her mom
passing Champagne flutes through the window that connected their dining room
and kitchen and robotically grabbed them. She lapped the table placing one
flute at each seat.
“What do you mean a channel?” she asked as Kirby
joined her relay team, falling in rank behind her, placing napkins at each
stop.
“I mean a channel, AN ACTUAL CHANNEL. I’ve
already started shooting videos for the site, and we’re changing my title to
editor in chief and style director. Can you believe…”
Margo halted. Kirby smashed into her back.
“What?” Margo asked indignantly. “You’re an editor in chief just because some
coding school dropout gives you the title?”
Kirby’s face crumpled.
“MARGO!” her mother reprimanded. Silence stood
like soup in the room.
She knew she should stop but didn’t. Couldn’t.
“I’m the writer. Not you. What have you ever done? I mean, really, Kirby?
Seriously?” she asked, each word punctuated with accusation.
“You made eyes with a guy in a coffee shop who
wanted in your pants and somehow you parlay that into a self-professed editor
in chief title. You’re such a fake. And….”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Hank Melon boomed from the
doorway. “Margo Valentine Melon, you will not speak to your sister that way.
What has happened to you? You’re the one who quit. Not me.
Not your mother. Certainly not Kirby. You. You
gave up. You threw in the towel. And yet here you are trying to hang all of us
with it. I don’t think so, young lady.”
His words stung, mostly because they were true.
Margo wanted to yell at them, like a child who drops their ice cream and then
shouts at everyone standing around for what was their own mistake. She bit her
lip to keep it from trembling, placed the remaining flutes on the table, and
rushed out.
“Margo?” Kirby started behind her.
“Give her a minute.” Maureen grabbed Kirby’s
arm.
Carved into the side of the hill halfway
down Beverly Crest sat Coyote Café, a small sliver of an establishment that was
easily missed thanks to its hidden façade, so much so that Margo had missed it.
She had to go down the hill and turn around, driving back up to locate it. She
waited for one of the only spots in the lot that her beat-up Bronco would fit
into. When she walked into the café, she stepped in a puddle of water. Damn
it! Chelsea’s McQueens!
“What can I get you?” he asked.
Margo felt herself relax, the anger shaking free
from what had just happened up the hill. “Ain’t that the truth,” she said,
smiling at his positivity.
Margo rattled off her order and paid at the
register.
“Take a seat.” He pointed to the booth. “I’ll
get that right out to you. Want any pastries?” he asked, as he began to grind
coffee beans, gesturing with his head toward the counter brimming with cake
stands. “We make ’em homemade daily. I get up at 4 a.m. just to do it.”
Margo looked at the counter and spied the pile
of at least ten croissants under an elegant glass cloche. She thought of Mix’s
request for the flaky and buttery baked goods. “Nope, all set,” she said as she
took a seat.
As Margo sat in the oversized walnut booth, a
flood of anger and uncertainty washed over her. Universe, God, Beyoncé,
Oprah, give me a sign of what I’m supposed to do. I thought I was on the right
path, but I don’t know. I just need a sign of what to do next, of where
I belong….
About the Author:
Kristin Giese is a talent manager, brand developer, and
executive producer who began her career building the entirety of the Nate
Berkus brand, amongst other talent as well as partnering with the likes of The
Oprah Winfrey Show, OWN, Sony, Target, TLC, NBC, P&G, GMC, and so many
more.
Born and raised in Ohio and a proud Shelby Whippet, Kristin’s love for estate jewelry is only outmatched by her commitment to vintage kimonos and her family. Unverified is her 1st novel. Follow her on Instagram @allmoxie.
Born and raised in Ohio and a proud Shelby Whippet, Kristin’s love for estate jewelry is only outmatched by her commitment to vintage kimonos and her family. Unverified is her 1st novel. Follow her on Instagram @allmoxie.
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