This book was definitely my guilty pleasure this month! Right from the start it took me on a fast and suspenseful roller-coaster ride. It begins when wife and mother of three, Tessa, finds out that her husband has been cheating on her. And by pretending to be him through texts, she lures his mistress to their home during a hurricane. I will not spoil the rest, but I couldn’t put this book down!
If you’re looking for a quick read that’ll have you at the edge of your seat, waiting to find out how it all ends, check out Courtney Cole’s Mine!
Read an excerpt below.
“Mom, are you okay?” Ava asks worriedly. “We’ve been watching the weather. It’s gonna get bad.”
“I know, honey. But I’ve gotten the house all closed up, and I’m fine,” I assure her. “Don’t worry.”
“What about Colt, though?”
“He’ll be safe and sound in his dorm room. “Don’t worry.”
As we talk, I walk around, hunting for my iPad so I can answer emails and charge my phone when Ava and I hang up. But I don’t see it anywhere.
“Sweetheart, have you seen my iPad?”
She’s silent for a beat. “Um, I have it.”
“You packed mine? Why not your own?”
“Because I couldn’t find mine.”
“Again? Ava, you have to take better care of your stuff.”
“I know, I’m sorry, Mama.” She always breaks out the “mama” when she’s in trouble or wants something, and honestly, it usually works. “I should let you go so you can finish prepping. Stay safe, okay?”
“I love you, Ava. Don’t worry. Everything is fine. But when you get home, you’re finding that iPad.”
I hang up, plug my phone into an outlet in the kitchen, and head to Ethan’s study to get his iPad. I find it balanced on a stack of file folders on his desk, and I grab it, heading back out to the living room.
I switch on the lamps, curl up on the sofa, and pull a blanket over my lap as his iPad dings with an incoming text message, that oh-so-familiar tinggg.
In a trained response to that sound, I look at the message. And then I freeze.
I want to fuck you. When can I see you again?
The next moment is simultaneously confusing and crystal clear. My mind is bending and freezing everything in place as I struggle to comprehend what I’m looking at, because the text isn’t for me.
I scroll through the thread and find several pictures of a young, fit, and naked woman. And the texts . . . from her to him, from him to her . . . streaming in from Ethan’s iPhone, which is paired with this iPad. The room spins as reality sinks in.
This can’t be real. But I’m staring at the words, at the proof, and my stomach heaves.
My husband is having an affair.