Sunday sneak peek of Tainted Love

Only 9 days to go until the release of Tainted Love, the first story in the Lovestruck series!
Here's an excerpt from the first chapter:

“Are you pouting?” I ask my best friend as the car roars to life with a twist of my wrist. A minute later I’m driving us out of the slushy, gravel parking lot.
“If you don’t think it will work, it won’t work,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest like a child having a tantrum.  “Oh my God. You can’t be serious, Reagan. Love potions don’t exist. If they did, there wouldn’t be any single ladies, would there? Beyoncé’s song about putting a ring on it would’ve been a big flop, not a worldwide sensation.”
“So you’re not even gonna try it?” she huffs.
“I can make you a big batch of Kool-Aid when we get back to my apartment for free,” I tease.
“Just promise me you’ll try it! What do you have to lose?” she asks, as I start looking for the signs for the highway. “I know how lonely you’ve been, but you refuse to date anyone because of that dipshit who cheated on you!”
“Don’t think so, Reagan,” I remark. “That dipshit was my soulmate and, yes, he cheated on me and I refused to forgive him. But feel free to try it yourself. I mean, you did pay a fortune for it.”
I exhale a breath of relief when we take the exit for Interstate 421 north, thankfully heading back to normal civilization after that freak show we just left.
 “Try it!” Reagan screeches, making me jump in surprise before she thrusts the bottle into my face.
“No!” I exclaim, batting her hand away. “And chill the fuck out. Do you want me to wreck?”
“Try it!”
OMG. She was exposed to the crazy people for far too long. Now she’s caught it, and I don’t have any antidotes to restore her sanity.
“Josie?” she says when I don’t respond to her psychotic request.
“What, Reagan?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.
The glass bottle appears in front of my line of sight yet again. “Try. It.”
“Oh, for the love of God!” I yell. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I jerk the bottle out of her hand, pull the glass stopper out with my teeth and chug half of it, just to get her to shut the hell up. “Happy?” I ask when I hand it back. “And yuck.” My entire body gives an involuntary shiver at the foul, bitter taste still lingering on my now numb tongue. Ugh, it’s like a spicy cough medicine. “That shit is…is…”
“Wow! Look! It turned blue, your favorite color,” I vaguely hear her say before I have to slap my palm over my mouth to contain the mouthful of regurgitated acid.
“Oh no.”
Veering off onto the right shoulder of the road, I barely fling my car door open in time before I start retching. Fuck, it’s awful. I projectile vomit across the entire four-lane highway.
“Josie?” Reagan asks softly. “Are…are you okay?”
“Do I look like I’m okay?” I snap at her caustically, sounding like the demonic girl from The Exorcist before another wave of heaves wrack through me.
“Here,” she says when I eventually stop yakking. A wad of fast-food napkins gratefully appear in front of my face.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I grab for the stack, wiping my eyes, face and nose. Ugh. It feels like I’m leaking from every orifice. “That was some seriously nasty shit,” I tell her after I clean myself up, even though it’s unnecessary. Just then, I feel a big gust of wind, followed by a loud BOOM.
Reagan and I both scream as the car rocks us back and forth from the force of impact.
“What the hell was that?” she asks, but I just hang my head because I already know without looking.
“My door,” I groan into my palms.
Reagan leans over me and then gasps, “Oh shit!” before the little tramp starts giggling.
“It’s not funny!” I exclaim with a shove to her shoulder. That only makes her laugh harder, her head thrown back, full out snorts now, which makes me join in, even though it feels like my own arm was ripped off from my body.
Fuck. I sober up at the thought of how much this is gonna cost to fix. Living on your own is not cheap, and I don’t have a lot of money in savings, hence the reason I didn’t want to spend two hundred dollars on a bottle of upchuck.
Waiting until traffic clears, I jump out of my car that’s now one door away from being a dune buggy, and weave through the maze of vomit to retrieve my unhinged door. Quickly grabbing it up, I give it a hug to my chest and utter an apology before laying it down gently in the back. That’s why El Caminos are the most awesome cars in the world, the comfort of a car with the bed of a truck. It’s ingenious.  
Sitting back down in the driver seat, I buckle up and prepare to get wet on the hour-and-a-half drive home. One where my best friend laughs at me the entire way. This is all her fault.
FML and fuck bogus ass love potions.

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