The deal for my NEW New Adult stand alone novel was announced yesterday:
July 8, 2013
|Digital: Fiction: New Adult||Author of THE NEXT FOREVER Lisa Burstein’s CANDY, STRIPPED, in which a college student who writes erotica under a pseudonym struggles to keep her identity hidden from her academia life while also trying not to fall for her frustrating faculty advisor or his cute MFA student, to Stacy Cantor Abrams at Entangled Embrace, for publication in November 2013, by Susan Finesman at Fine Literary (World)|
I thought I would share a sneak peek & let you know you can add it on Goodreads! Enjoy!
“I’m not a coward,” I said, feeling a little less chummy, my words as hard as I could make them. It seemed like everyone here, even my roomate Mandy, even Professor Martin, thought I lived my life too carefully. It was starting to piss me off. It was starting to make me wonder if the only people ever who would think I was carefree and lighthearted were my parents and in their case those traits were a negative.
“You are,” James said. “You care so much about what other people are going to think you are willing to throw this away. Lie to throw it away.”
“Is that all you wanted to say?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, setting his jaw to let me know he meant it, “but I’ll say it again.” He paused between each word. “You are a coward.”
Something about the way he repeated it stirred something in me. I wanted to be fearless. I wanted to ‘let go’. I wanted to be everything Professor Martin and Keith thought I was not. Everything my parents thought I was. In my writing, in my life, in the love I chose.
“Would a coward do this?” I asked pushing through the inches to his lips and kissing him hard. So hard— he stumbled back and had to steady both of us.
He held the back of my head firmly, like he was afraid I would stop kissing him.
There was no way.
He turned me and pushed the exit door so we both fell outside, our lips and bodies still joined, tripping blindly alone and with solid certainty together.
We were out in the parking lot, I was going after his belt, and he was raising my skirt. He pressed me against the back wall of the restaraunt and the humid air hit my thighs.
He slipped on a condom. His tongue was in my ear and my mouth was on his throat when his body and mine connected. It was the first time I’d ever been with someone where I felt like I was in control of what my body was doing. What my body was making his body do. I chose this. I chose him and he had no choice but to comply.
A dumpster was on one side of us, a coffee can the employees used as an ashtray on the other side. I focused only on him: on the rough touch of his hands; on his breath pulsing on my neck, on his pelvis a perfect parallel to mine. Our two hips forming a butterfly flapping its wings into oblivion. That finally wrapped us up in a cocoon of shivers and steam and release.
When we were finished we held each other for a moment just breathing, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, chest to chest.
“I guess you’re not a coward, Candice,” he said, into my lips. He kissed me lightly, deliberately; a kiss that said both hello and goodbye.
I sighed. “I’m in deep,” I said, surprised I admitted it.
“You are, we both are,” he whispered into my ear, “And, you are beautiful.”