Beautiful Legend, enemies-to-lovers romance that has been reworked with all-new material from Waverly Alexander, is available now!
I’ve spent every day since I was seven hiding my past, trying to forget the attack that killed my mother and my sister.
The attack I barely survived.
Now, I never let anyone in.
Even the people who would consider me a friend.
They don't know the real me.
Joshua barged into my life my junior year of college.
Brooding, mysterious, and barely talks to anyone—Joshua Travin is allegedly as skilled in the bedroom as he is on the rugby field.
He’s everywhere I go, always watching.
Despite his obvious distaste for me, I find a familiar comfort in his green eyes.
This book has been reworked and contains never before read bonus material.
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Excerpt
He pushed away from the sink and moved toward me, forcing me to press my back further against the door.
“You’ve been sulking around campus, popping up everywhere, glowering at me like I’m some horrible person.” I waved my hand at him, exasperated. “You act like I lured your sweet, old grandmother out to an alligator-infested swamp and nudged her in.”
He snorted, trying not to laugh, but I could see the flash of glee in his eyes. He smiled a real smile, one that reached his eyes and stretched his cheeks, showing his straight, white teeth and hitting me right in the gut with the realization that I’d seen that smile before.
“You’re not… ” he started, and I could see the thoughtful confusion etched in his features before he finished his thought by saying, “what I expected you to be.”
“What does that even mean?” I scrunched my nose in distaste at his words, which made me feel strangely inadequate. “Do I know you?”
“Nothing,” he said distractedly, his eyes studying my face intently like he was looking for something that just wasn’t there. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured so slowly and softly that my breath hitched in my lungs, and for a moment I forgot how to expel the air I need to survive.
I started to move again, but he closed in on me—close enough that I could feel his heated breath on my cheek, his chest not quite touching mine. His palms were flat against the door on either side of my head. His fiery stare sparked my nerves, not because I was afraid of him, but because I could feel the heat spreading from my cheeks, down my neck, and to my chest.
I pushed my palms against the hard planes of his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I’m leaving,” I said, but it didn’t sound convincing, even to me.
“Are you?” He smirked, pushing closer.
About Waverly
Waverly Alexander lives on a farm with all of her rescue horses, donkeys, dogs, and a cat named Fairydust. She can't pick her favorite trope, so she writes them all. When she isn't watching 90's dramas, she's writing angsty college romance.
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