Unable to continue living on the path her father created for her, Gigi Moretti does something she’s never done before.

She takes a risk.

When musician Maxwell Mitchell waltzes into an old diner in the early morning up to his elbows in secrets, he offers Gigi the perfect escape from the future she’s never wanted.

It takes an over the top demand from her father and a shocking revelation from her fake fiancé to get her to pack her bags and ride shotgun on Max’s spontaneous tour across the country.

As she and Max grow closer, Gigi learns what it’s like to throw out her overbearing workload and be an actual 21-year-old. She quits her job, eats too many Cheetos, tosses out her pink wardrobe, and takes a job as Max’s manager.

She’s finally free, living her life free of her dad’s grip and falling in deep with the musician whose songs hold stories no one will ever uncover and whose past includes a secret hero named Aiden he credits for his survival.

The more time they spend together, the deeper they fall and the closer she gets to the truth. Despite the unknown, she’s happy. She has a job she enjoys, she’s making plans for a future she’s actually excited about, and she’s living with a boyfriend who adores her.

Everything is perfect.

And then she meets Aiden.

And it all changes.

Excerpt

Max bypasses the crowd completely and sticks close to the wall, heading for the edge of the stage. It isn’t very big. Just a long rectangular strip with a microphone on a stand and a small speaker I can only assume is an amp. The crowd comes all the way to the edge. Despite the fact this bar looks like it’s two snorts away from a drug bust, there are a ton of people here. Maybe it’s well known. Maybe they have good prices. I honestly have no idea why a place whose staff is smoking weed in the back, and whose bartender seems to not give a shit about money, is packed so full. I’ll ask Max later. Though it’s likely he won’t tell me.

“Stay here, babe.” I get a kiss to the head before he climbs the two stairs and plugs his guitar into an amp. He taps the microphone twice, making sure it works and then launches into a song. Just like that. He doesn’t greet the crowd. Doesn’t introduce himself or his music. He just starts singing. And that’s enough because the entire audience is entranced.

Me included.

It doesn’t matter who you are. Doesn’t matter if you’re drunk or sober. Stoned or straight. It doesn’t matter if you’re from the rough side of town or if you're living the high life. It wouldn’t even matter if you had an extra leg or a third eye. Max’s music reaches everybody. It reaches down your throat, squeezes your heart and forces it to beat a little bit slower than it normally does.

His voice is raspy and light. Low and breathy. It’s almost as though he isn’t even speaking. Just breathing the lyrics. Like the air in his lungs is the cause of whatever beautiful thing is happening in front of me right now. Every word he sings comes from his lips effortlessly and eloquently. He’s stripped down entirely, not at all concerned with putting on a show. It’s just a man and his guitar, breathing lyrics so raw, I rock back on my feet.

With each breath he takes, I become more and more intoxicated. Drunk on his lyrics and the way he’s pouring everything into the words he’s letting loose for the whole world to hear and interpret in whatever way they please. He’s spilling beans left and right, singing tenderly about a side of him he claims saved his life. The song feels so personal, yet he doesn’t make it about him. He makes it about each individual standing below him.

Maxwell Mitchell cares. It wouldn’t appear that way at first. Not with the way he didn’t greet his crowd or show his appreciation for his stage time. But the moment he started sharing his art with the world, there’s no denying how much he cares. He cares about his music and the way it affects people. He cares that it finds someone and makes a difference. He cares about his lyrics and the way he can use them to touch people in a way not everyone can.

What he doesn’t care about is glitter. There is nothing extra making him shiny. Nothing to catch people’s eye or make him stand out in a crowd.

Max doesn’t stand out. He blends in. So much so that not a single person noticed he was on stage until he started playing. Maybe that’s why everybody can relate to his words. Because he’s not a rockstar. He’s not famous. He’s just like us. He’s just a man, playing a guitar in a room full of people.

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About Lacey Dailey

Lacey Dailey is a full-time college student at Central Michigan University. She lives in Farwell, Michigan surrounded by her family. When she isn't in class, she is most likely teaching dance classes at the small dance studio she grew up in or making pizzas at her mother's pizzeria.

Lacey has been an avid reader since elementary school and will read a book any chance she can get. While she loves all types of books, romance will always be her favorite genre citing she is, "a sucker for a good love story."

Lacey's love for reading and romance was what inspired her to embark on the crazy adventure that was writing Extraordinary You, her debut novel released in 2017.

She loves feedback from all readers who took a chance on her novel. You can find her on Facebook or email her at laceydaileybooks@gmail.com

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