Being a Tate means Racer must battle some inner demons before chasing his dreams and his girl. Check out this exclusive excerpt from Racer by Katy Evans!

About ‘Racer’ by Katy Evans:

A bad boy with something to prove.
A woman with a mission.
The race of their lives.
The love of a lifetime.

I don’t think his parents expected him to live up to his name—Racer Tate—but once he felt the adrenaline rush behind the wheel, he was addicted.

He’s the fastest, fiercest driver around.

Scouting new talent brings me to his doorstep…
but his smile sends me to my knees.

The sexy, mysterious Racer Tate is not the kind of man a girl like me falls for. He’s secretive, reckless, elusive. But his proximity pushes me beyond reason, and his kiss….

This is our last chance to win, and he is our only hope. I’m supposed to watch him—make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. But it’s an impossible task. And now the one in heart wrenching, toe-curling, soul-crushing trouble is me. Because when your heart belongs to someone, their truths become your own, and their secrets become your salvation…or your curse.

He says he wants me. He says I’m the One. But he also thinks he’ll break my heart, one piece at a time until it’s gone.

‘Racer’ by Katy Evans exclusive excerpt:

I’m intrigued about Racer Tate. I won’t lie.

According to the comments of dozens and dozens of fans, he’s the best street racer anyone has ever seen. He shies from nothing. He’s one with the machine, as if the machine were a part of him. So here I am, sitting here, waiting for an illegal street race. Two minutes to the race, and he’s nowhere in sight.

Wow. What a dick.

“I get to fuck him tonight,” one woman breathes excitedly behind me.

“What do you mean?” her friend asks.

“The guys asked me to show him the winner’s treatment.”

Wow. So apparently he’s a bit of a manwhore too.

My stomach clutches.

The crowd cheers.

His competitor motions to his car, a shiny black thing with fire drawn on it and everything.

Then points at the vacant space, and turns his thumb down.

People cheer even more and that seems to make the guy get a little upset, shaking his head.

I stand to leave. Really I shouldn’t even be here, near here.

There’s silence as a cherry mustang comes into view.

“Ohmigod, it’s him,” I hear someone whisper as the mustang roars into the parking lot and screeches to a halt right at the starting line.

My heart stops, and I sit back down.

And there he is.

The guy leaps out of the car through his open window, and one guy greets him with a slap of the back. He’s changed into blue jeans. He’s got a ton of muscles, those jeans, and a long-sleeved white shirt.

Racer rakes a hand through his mussed-up, just-woke-up black hair, grinning, and then his eyes start to scan the crowd of people.

I have an urge to hide—but somehow don’t act fast enough and before I know it, his blue eyes find me in the crowd.
He just stares, his hands idle at his sides.

He looks very interested to see me here, and as he stares at me, he narrows his eyes and his lips curve ever so slightly as if he’s pleased to see me here.

They’re all saying his name. “Racer.”

The girls’ fingers are glorying over his chest and I clench my hands at my sides, not liking it and I don’t know why.

I wonder what he’d do if I told him who I am.

He doesn’t really look like he wants any of them. But their neediness vexes me. I’m jet-lagged and impatient and a little bit jealous that these women seem to have no trouble reaching out to touch him.

He jams his hands into his pockets, and he looks at me subtly between dark lashes, so subtly I can’t believe how overwhelmed I am by feeling his eyes on me.

Doubt creeps in as I wonder if this guy is really what I need. I’m gonna need to watch his diet; he’s all muscle but he won’t be able to add an ounce of muscle if I want him to fit in our Kelsey.

He starts shoving his way for me.

I tug my shirt a little, feeling undressed, needing a reminder that there’s actually a pretty decent amount of fabric covering me.

His intense eyes drop down my stomach, and a bevy of butterflies go off there. This is so not appropriate, Lana …
The testosterone around him is so off the charts that if we’d been in a closed space, we’d all grow muscles.

He starts smiling as he approaches.

“What is this? Role-play today? School teacher slut—” someone is saying about my cropped top and long skirt.

“She’s not a whore,” he breathes, angry.

He comes to stop before me, frowning because of the comment, but his eyes devour me.

Flat out devour me with a single look.

I take a hesitant step forward.

“You ready for the race of your life, Alana?” he asks. So gruff, so male.

His eyes … I feel the urge to look away, but I can’t, as if his eyes just trapped mine. The color is a swirl of blue and grey and specks of black, but mostly blue, mostly electrifying blue. I’m still as uncomfortable as I was a nanosecond ago. It’s just an eye-connection, nothing really. I glance away, and he eases back, and so do I. He’s leaning back, watching me.

“You’re late,” is all I can say, already feeling as if I won’t stand for tardiness if he works on my team.

He stares at me wordlessly, then smiles in amusement and heads to his car, giving me a look before he climbs inside and slams the door shut.

My breath is all but gone, and so is obviously my mind, because I react really strangely to this guy, and he’s a manwhore and a law breaker, and here I am. Still. Hearing him fire up his car and wondering what he’s doing to fire up something in me.

Racer by Katy Evans is available now! Order your copy from Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. And don’t forget to add it to your Goodreads!