A devastatingly beautiful tale of first love and second chances comes out this week from one of my favourite storytellers on the planet, Samantha Young, and I have a little sneak peek for you.
Excerpt
My first kiss was in the eighth grade when we played spin the bottle at a party Lorna forced me to go to.
The last few years, I’d even gone on a few dates that involved first-date kisses, but I’d never wanted it to go beyond a first date because I was hung up on Jamie.
Wex’s tongue flicked at my lips and I opened them on instinct, all the while screaming at myself, “What are you doing?!”
He groaned into my mouth as I kissed him back, and then his hand was on my nape, clutching me closer.
It wasn’t a bad kiss.
What it was, though, was a mouth against mine, one that tasted of beer, and a strong hand on my neck.
I didn’t feel the kiss anywhere else.
I never did.
Was there something wrong with me?
I pulled back, pressing a hand to Wex’s chest. “No,” I said. “I can’t.”
“Shit. Sorry if I read you wrong.” He looked genuinely worried he had.
“I have to go.” I pushed up off the lounger and stepped around people who were sitting on the floor of the deck.
I was shaking.
Why was I shaking?
Because there’s something wrong with you. Something missing.
Wex seemed nice. And he was hot.
Why didn’t I want him to kiss me?
There were too many people inside the house. I needed somewhere to be alone. Remembering Jamie’s gift, I spotted it on the pile on the table in the kitchen, grabbed it, and hurried upstairs. I was dismayed to find the main bathroom occupied. Knowing Skye wouldn’t mind, I slipped into her bedroom and fumbled through the dark to her private bathroom.
With a sigh, I flipped the light switch and closed the door behind me. I threw Jamie’s gift on the counter and leaned on Skye’s cool porcelain sink. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Sometimes I wished my happiness weren’t dependent on how other people felt about me. Wouldn’t life be easier if we weren’t all so preoccupied with the need to be loved, the need to be needed?
And if I was so desperate to be loved and needed, why didn’t I keep kissing Wex?
The door to the bathroom flew open, jerking me out of my musings. I jolted in fright.
The sight of Jamie storming through and slamming it shut made my breath catch.
There were those butterflies again.
And the heat … the heat that was always missing when someone else kissed me flared to life just being in Jamie’s presence.
At night, in bed, under the cover of darkness, when I slipped my hand beneath my underwear and touched myself, I did it imagining it was Jamie.
There is nothing wrong with my body, I reminded myself.
It was just my desire wired inextricably to my heart.
Even with him standing there pissed about something, I wanted him.
“Jamie?”
He dragged his gaze down my body, lingering on my cleavage, before traveling south, leisurely. Almost insultingly.
I stiffened. “What is it?”
Those ocean eyes came back to mine.
Was it Wex?
My breath caught at the thought. No. It couldn’t be.
“Jamie?”
“So, you put on a sexy dress and suddenly my teammates are fair game?”
I noticed his fists were clenched at his sides.
Anger flushed through me, and I knew I was blushing with it. “I didn’t think you’d notice or care, what with the champagne blond and the three girls before her.”
Jamie’s head jerked back like I’d hit him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Lorna filled me in on the girls, and I saw the blond for myself.”
“What girls?”
“The three girls you made out with before the party even got started.”
He scowled and closed the distance between us, his chest against mine, forcing me against the sink. I leaned away, curling my fingers around the edge of the porcelain. I couldn’t breathe properly with him this close.
“Lorna is talking shit as usual. There were no girls. As for the blond”—he bent his head toward me, eyes hot with anger—“she cornered me. I didn’t initiate that.”
I ignored the fact that Lorna lied about the girls. “Yeah, you looked like you were not enjoying that at all.”
His eyes narrowed at my sarcasm. “Why do you care who kisses me?”
“Why do you care who kisses me?” I countered.
Jamie leaned his hands on the sink, caging me in. “My teammates are off-limits to you.” His breath whispered against my lips as he pressed his whole body against mine.
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(complete standalone stories, only connected by the theme of the arts industry, not the characters)
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is going to in kindle version or only print??
It was stuck in publishing mode for three days, but it is now live and all links have been added. ♥️