The Perfect Book for Your Summer: Tell Me Lies

by  | August 6
Tell Me Lies Carola Lovering

Everyone has had that one person…the one who knows just what to say to drive you crazy. The one that you knew was no good, but you just stuck with him thinking things would change. He knows just how to make you fall for him, and when you start to get over him, he jumps right back into your life. Carola Lovering’s Tell Me Lies dives into that story.

It’s not a romance…it’s the eye-opening relatable story that makes you say, “Oh God, I remember that guy.”

Check out an excerpt from Tell Me Lies below!

Bonus: Simon & Schuster will be hosting a Facebook Live with Carola Lovering on Tuesday, August 7th at 1:00 pm ET. Tune in to hear this debut author share her thoughts about the book and her own favorite summer reads.


It was the night of the Wild West party, and we were pregaming at Wrigley’s. I sat on Stephen’s lap, his hands resting on my stomach, underneath my shirt. Pippa and Wrig were there, Bree, Jackie, and a few of Wrigley and Stephen’s friends. Jackie always invited Stuart to come along when we went to Wrigley’s pregames, but he never did. Stuart wasn’t into drugs, and sometimes I didn’t blame him for not wanting to be around Jackie when she was on them.

When it was my turn, Jackie slid the mirror in front of me.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Stephen whispered in my ear.

“I want to. Really, I want to try it.”

Jackie handed me the tightly rolled twenty-dollar bill. I pinched it in my fingers. I wished everyone wasn’t watching me. I held the bill in front of my right nostril, plugging my other nostril with my left forefinger. Then I inhaled sharply, the way Jackie had instructed. I didn’t get the whole line, but I got most of it. Stephen licked his finger and swiped up the remaining powder.

“Show me your gums,” he said, then wiped the extra coke all over them. “Yee-haw, cowgirl.”

My mouth went numb in a surprisingly pleasant way. My brain felt light but sharp. I knew I’d be up all night.

“What d’you think of the coke?” he asked me later, when we were leaving Wrigley’s to go to the Wild West party.

“It’s fun.” I nodded, unable to control the size of my smile.

“You’re the cutest cowgirl in the history of cowgirls.” He leaned down and kissed me, tipping my Western-style hat back. He tugged lightly at the braids on either side of my head, then ran his hands over the back of my jeans and pulled me close to him.

“You’re so tiny. You have the sexiest body.”

Tiny—I cherished the word. The inside of my chest felt warm with praise. I’d lost twelve pounds since the beginning of the semester. I hadn’t meant to initially. I’d just been trying to avoid the freshman fifteen—but once the weight started falling off, I couldn’t stop. I wanted a gap in my thighs, the kind Bree had. Losing weight wasn’t that hard. Four-mile run in the morning, hot vinyasa at YogaLab in the afternoon. I skipped breakfast and ate from the salad bar at the other two meals—lettuce and chickpeas with nonfat dressing, apples for snacks. I learned to appreciate the gnawing in my gut when I fell asleep at night. Food isn’t actually that important, if you think about it. Physically, the human body can go weeks without it. Gandhi survived twenty-one days of complete starvation, and he’s legendary.


Manipulation is not a bad word. It’s not a cynical mind-set. It’s a proactive approach to exploiting opportunities. This was something I’d been thinking about ever since Wrigley’s stupid little girlfriend, Pippa, cornered me in the library and told me that I was “manipulating Lucy” and warned me in a girlish whine to stay away from her. Good God. Freshman girls are so tightly wound up with hormones, you can’t take them seriously. They genuinely believe that everything they say matters phenomenally. It’s truly absurd. Girls in general are psychotic.

Pippa scrunched up her nose. “She knows that you slept with Nicole Hart on Sunday, right after she left your room. Do you realize how disgusting that is? You must have so many STDs.”

“Whoa. Take it easy, Pippa.” Pippa. What kind of a bullshit name is Pippa? “I will not take it easy. Lucy is my best friend. And I know it’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Pippa stormed off before I could say another word. Good Lord. I come to the library for some peace and quiet so I can attempt to tackle my international-policy paper outline, and I’m harassed by hormonal freshman girls. The library used to be my safe haven.

I ducked into a desk behind the last row of shelves on the third floor to avoid further confrontation.

Well, Lucy knew. I suppose it was only a matter of time before Lucy’s faultless image of me went to shit. In any case, I did need to stop fucking Nicole Hart. The consequences of that had proven more trouble than it’s worth—Nicole’s not even attractive. It’s just the rush I’m addicted to. The sneaking around. The getting away with it. The getting away with not getting away with it. There’s something else about cheating, too—it stabilizes me, evens me out. Monogamy isn’t natural.

UPDATE: Can’t get enough of Tell Me Lies? Check out the Facebook Live below.