Fiction Focus: An advanced look at Karey White’s ‘For What It’s Worth’

Not only is Karey White’s “For What It’s Worth” being released on Dec. 11, but the author’s book launch party will take place on Wednesday, Dec. 5, at King’s English Bookshop in Salt Lake City.

“For What It’s Worth” is available for pre-oder from and

Here’s an advanced peek at “For What It’s Worth” to keep you satisfied until the book is released next week.


“Hi,” I said, opening the door.

“Hi,” the man said back. It was almost like a scene from a movie. The girl opens the door. The tall boy is on the front steps, silhouetted against the morning sky. He’s incredibly handsome, and there’s an immediate attraction. The boy looks tenderly at the lovely girl who opened the door.

Oh crap. The girl opening the door didn’t look lovely at all. She was standing there in a big, ratty sweatshirt, her hair an unruly mess, and she hadn’t even brushed the morning yuck from her teeth. I immediately regretted my lack of morning preparation. I reached up and tried to smooth out my hair. If only I’d known I was about to meet a gorgeous, single man.

Yes, he was single. His left hand was holding a clipboard and with only a slight adjustment, I was able to see his ring finger, and it was gloriously empty. I learned a long time ago to check the ring finger before I check out the face. Why get excited about a face if that face is unavailable?

“Am I at the right place?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I said, stupidly looking up at him.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh, of course.” I felt silly and sloppy and self-conscious as I stepped out of the way. “This is it,” I said with a sweeping gesture of my arm.

“There’s a lot to be done.” He stepped inside and I instinctively took a few steps back. I didn’t want to assault him with my morning breath.

“Let’s take a look around.” He had a deep voice, and I could picture him singing bass. It looked like he might be smiling a little, and I hoped he wasn’t secretly laughing at my bedraggled appearance. He pulled a pen from the top of the clipboard and flipped over a paper. “Oh, I’m Dane, by the way,” he said as he shifted the pen to his left hand and put out his right hand.

“I’m Abby.” His handshake was big and firm. His hand wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t too smooth either. I liked that. It felt like a man’s hand should feel. I was surprised at how warm it was since he’d just come in from the cold, and I felt an absurd disappointment when he took his hand back.