Things Liars Fake: a Novella (a #ThreeLittleLies novella Book 3)

Things Liars Fake: a Novella (a #ThreeLittleLies novella Book 3)

Sara Ney



“Everyone raise your glasses in a toast,” I announce around the high-top bar table, hoisting my wine glass in the air and encouraging the friends we have gathered to do the same. Clearing my throat, I begin. “To Tabitha: the author friend we’re here to celebrate! She worked her ass off for many years to get to this point. She took a risk and left her job to write full-time and is proudly publishing her second—yes second! romance novel.” I put a hand next to my mouth and address our small group in a hushed tone as if I’m telling them a naughty bit of gossip. “And even though she kept it a secret from us at the beginning, we’re all so proud of her.”

Beside me, Tabitha groans loudly among the laughter.

I continue. “Her first book has been in the top 100 for nine weeks and we expect the second to do just as well because my best friend is a wordsmithing genius.”

“We are so proud of you!” our friend Samantha shouts.

“So proud!” Greyson—who is dating Tabitha’s brother—echoes, raising her glass higher. “Seriously Tab, we’re so excited for you… even though you used my brother as a muse for your second novel, which I cannot get past.” Grey gives a shudder. “Especially where the characters finally do the deed. Did it have to be so descriptive? All I could do was picture my brother and you—horrifying. I will never be able to un-read that scene, and for that I will forever be ungrateful.”

My best friend Tabitha, laughs, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but we all know the best ideas imitate real life.”

I roll my eyes and lower my glass. “But do we have to know about it? Honestly. The visuals we could have lived without.” Even though her boyfriend Collin is a complete hottie with a hot bod and killer smile whom none of us, if forced, would mind picturing naked in the sack. But of course, I can’t say that shit out loud.

That would be tacky.

Tabitha has the decency to blush. Her hands go up in defeat. “I swear I only used Collin to form the male character! I didn’t use our relationship to plot the book!”

She can’t even look us in the eye when she says it, the liar.

We all stare and Samantha’s expression clearly asks ‘who are you trying to kid right now?’ “You expect people to believe that? The entire second book is about two people who meet at a store; that’s you. Then they bump into each other at a party. You. Then he finds out her secret. Also you. You, you, and you. Your story. Just admit it so we can finish toasting your success.”

A dreamy smile crosses Tabitha’s face. “Fine. I admit it. I was falling in love with him, so yes—I might not have done it on purpose, but it is our story.”

“Finally. Now, as we were saying: here’s to Tabitha, who we all knew would do something spectacular. Thank you for proving us right. We love you and are so proud. Cheers!”

“Cheers to Tabby!”

“Hey,” Bridget—an old college roommate in town for the weekend—cuts in. “When do we get to see this famous love letter we keep hearing about?”

She’s referring to the love letter that my best friend’s boyfriend wrote her during a rough patch while they were dating. Tabitha has never shown it to anyone, but did reference it in her new book.

Which, of course, made us all curious.

Tabitha throws her head back, and face palms herself. “Oh crap. I forgot I put that in my book.” She laughs the kind of laugh that makes a guy like Collin fall in love with you and write you love letters. Light and airy and full of humor. “Sorry, ladies. The contents of said letter are private.”

“Is it dirty?” Greyson wrinkles her nose. “Please say no.”

“No! It’s sweet. Ugh, just the sweetest. Maybe someday I’ll let you read it, but for now I’m keeping it to myself.”

“Damn you and your secrets!” I complain. “I showed you the poem Kyle Hammond wrote me last year.”

Half the table groans out loud, and Bridget smirks. “Are you kidding me right now? First of all, Kyle Hammond is a stalker that works in your office. Secondly, he plagiarized that poem off the internet. Third, it wasn’t a love poem; it was a poem about a man’s love affair with a married woman.”

I scoff indignantly. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“He’s just so adorable I can hardly stand it,” Tabitha sighs into her wine glass.

“Who, Kyle?”

“Collin,” my best friend sighs again in a daydream, resting her elbows on the bar table.

“Collin? Adorable?” Greyson laughs. “Okay, yeah—my brother is somewhat good looking. But I also remember he and his friends back in high school doing some pretty stupid crap, like toilet papering their friend’s houses and leaving dead animals on the front porch that they found on the side of the road. Gross.”

“What!” Samantha sputters, pausing with a wine glass halfway to her lips. “Wait. What?”

Greyson nods with authority. “Yup, Road Kill Cafe. He and his hockey buddies would use it as their calling card when they’d go TP someone’s house. Anything they found on the side of the road, they’d take and put on someone’s porch.”

“That’s so totally disgusting I need to chug this,” Bridget adds, lifting her wine glass and pointing it in Tabitha’s direction. “You kiss that mouth.”