Trailer Reveal: Eleven Weeks

So, I have been the slowest person ever to share my own trailer reveal! Eek! But, without further ado …

Title: Eleven Weeks
Series: Crazy in Love #2
Author: Lauren K. McKellar

Genre: Contemporary Romance (New Adult)

Release Date: January 28, 2015
Eleven weeks.

Seven tequila shots.

Five siblings.

Two boys.

One heartbeat.


Stacey is good at pretending.

She pretends that the boy she’s in love with doesn’t exist.

She pretends that she’s happy to live and die in this small town.

She pretends that her life is carefree while her best friend’s world crumbles before her very eyes.

But Stacey’s got a secret …

And it’s going to ruin everything.



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Book Trailer
I wake to the sound of a drill-saw attempting to channel through
a concrete pylon right next to my head.
“Why?” I grunt. Only it sounds more like “uggghhh”, even to my
ears. Apparently being woken by drill-saw seriously impedes my ability to form
words. I reach my hand out and slam something in front of me, presumably the
drill-saw, most likely a clock radio. Regardless, the action makes the noise
stop, thank hell.
Ugh. While the blast of noise has stopped, there’s still a
ringing in my head of dizzy-making proportions. Not to mention that my tongue
tastes like I’ve been eating road-kill. Yuck.
I squint one eye open and then scrunch my lid shut immediately
as protection from the harsh yellow light coming in through the window framed
by black-flowered curtains. What fresh hell is this? Who has opened my—
I don’t have black-flowered curtains.
I inch open my lid at snail’s pace, this time preparing myself
for the assault of light from the left of the room. Yep. Black floral curtains
still there.
I open my eyes wider and take in more of the room in front of
me. Aside from the window, there’s a black bedside table with a digital clock
on the top of it, right next to a red lamp. The floor is covered in a
shaggy-looking cream carpet, a black skirt and red lacy bra lying on top of it.
Oh, no. Please, please
no …
I slowly raise the white sheet from my body. Yep, exactly as I’d
My black skirt and red bra.
This, of course, leaves only one question. But do I really want
to look? Can I?
I rack my brain, trying to put together the pieces of the night
before. There was the party at Joe’s. I’d gone there with Kate, because Dave
and the band were playing. Michael. I saw Michael. Tequila. Lots of tequila.
I glanced down at my hand. Seven little lipstick lines mar its
surface. One for each shot. At least I can remember that.

how the hell did I get here? And, more importantly, where is here?


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