Synopsis: Release day 10/6
Everything done in darkness,
will eventually be brought into the light.
I ran, but all it did was
keep me one step ahead of my past. I tried to start over; new name, new
identity. But you can't change your soul.
A fresh start at college was
just what I needed. For a while, it worked. I was the party girl, the one that
seemed confident, but it was a lie.
When guys kissed me--I felt
only pain.
When they touched me--Nothing
but fear.
Deep inside, every girl wants
to be the beauty in the story, to find someone that will see you as their
world.
But the truth? I was the
beast. And as much as I wanted redemption, I wasn't fool enough to think I'd
ever get it.
Until he walked into my life.
I wasn't prepared to fall for
someone. My scars were too deep, the wounds too raw. But he offered me peace,
he offered me security. I should have known it was just another lie--I should
have known that falling in love with my professor was a bad idea.
But I was powerless to stop
myself from falling.
And he was powerless to catch
me.
Because the darkness finally
caught up to me, and as fate would have it, a cruel twist almost bled me dry.
But I'm stronger than I knew. I'm stronger than you think.
You think you know my story,
but you don't....after all everyone has Shame in their lives-- and I'm no
longer afraid to show you mine.
GOODREADS:
BUYLINKS:
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street
Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances.
When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and
plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
Links:
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Van-Dyken/e/B0054TW5AA/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1407369649&sr=8-2-ent
EXCERPTS
#1
“Just hold still!”
I yelled, holding up my phone while Gabe gave me the finger. I grimaced and
dropped the camera away from my face. “Nice, thanks for that.”
“I’m a giver.” He
smirked.
Saylor, his wife,
smacked him on the arm and rolled her eyes.
“Ouch.”
I scrunched up my
face when he leaned in and took Saylor’s mouth with his, kissing her senseless
in the local Starbucks like they were doing a romance scene in a movie. I
coughed.
They didn’t pull
apart.
So I took a
picture.
I earned another
finger, but Gabe still didn’t dislodge from his wife.
“Whoa!” Wes’s voice
sounded from behind me. “They been at it long?”
“Are all newlyweds
disgusting?” I voiced aloud.
Wes moved around
the table with his wife, Kiersten, and gave me a goofy shrug. I wanted to roll
my eyes, but Wes was too nice and hot. Let’s not forget the hot part. Both he
and Gabe were like walking poster boys for GQ. Both blond, now that Gabe had
decided to dye his hair back to his original color. It was like staring at two
really bright superstars.
Hating them was
like hating the Easter bunny. Try all you want, but you’ll eat every piece of
chocolate in the basket, just you wait.
“So, classes?”
Kiersten leaned forward. “I heard you got stuck with that hot new psych prof.”
Wes growled low in
his throat.
“Down boy.” I
braced my hands on the table and laughed. “Besides he’s not that hot.”
“A girl passed
out.” Kiersten’s eyebrows shot up. “Like in class.”
“Dehydration?” I
shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.
“Or…” She leaned
forward. “…the rumors are true.”
“Rumors…” Gabe
backed away from Saylor, his lips swollen. “…are always based on truth.”
“So you really did
do a naked dance in your underwear last week after getting drunk downtown at
Pike Place Market?” I tilted my head and waited while Gabe rolled his eyes and
popped his knuckles. “Exactly.”
He opened his
mouth.
I took a picture.
With a grimace, he
snatched my phone away from me. “Never thought I’d have to tell you to lay off
the pictures, Miss Paparazzi.”
I slumped in my
seat. “It’s for an assignment with that hot professor.”
“Aha!” Kiersten
jabbed her finger at me. “I knew it.”
I pinned her with a
look. “Sarcasm, friend, sarcasm.”
“Boys get girls
pregnant,” Gabe offered, while Wes choked on the coffee he’d just stolen out of
my hand.
Serves him right!
“Don’t date them.”
“You’re going to be
a great dad.” I smiled sweetly. “What? You’re just going to lock your girls in
their rooms and go—” I mimicked his voice. “—uh, you see boy parts are bad,
they make girls have lots of babies, like rabbits, and you know how rabbits
make dad nervous and—”
“Hilarious,” Gabe’s
eyes narrowed. “And please don’t talk about kids yet…”
Saylor laughed
quietly next to him then squeezed his arm.
My heart dropped.
A very long time
ago, I’d wanted to be that for Gabe, then Taylor happened and well… I
shuddered, blocking out the painful memories, the things I’d done, the things
he’d done, the things we’d done.
“You okay?” Wes
asked, his voice soft. He was way too perceptive for my taste. If I’d wanted to
share, he’d be the guy I’d talk to, but I was a vault. Sharing meant admitting
my guilt, and admitting meant I’d probably go insane just like he had.
“Yeah…” I
straightened in my seat. “…I just don’t want to fail my class, and I need to
write down nonverbal cues and take at least one picture. And pretty sure I need
to ace this first assignment on account that I was late to my prof’s class, and
I got in trouble.”
“He spank you?”
Gabe’s eyes mocked across his coffee.
“Yes, Gabe,” I said
calmly. “Because that’s how they punish bad students here at UW — with a
yardstick and a smile.”
“I wish.” He
whistled. “What I wouldn’t give to have Saylor—”
I plugged my ears.
He threw his head
back and laughed while Saylor turned bright red and put her hand over his mouth
to shush him.
“So…” Wes ignored
Gabe as was his usual and leaned across the table. “…why don’t you take
pictures of people here in the coffee shop? I mean, ask permission, but most
people here are super interesting, right? Studying? Stressed out? Tired?” He
pointed to a guy in the corner. “He looks like he’s running on five cups of
coffee and one hour of sleep. Go ask, take the picture, make some notes,
project done.”
“You make it sound
so easy,” I grumbled.
He grinned. “I’m
Wes Michels.”
I hung my head lower
and grimaced.
“Phone.” He held
out his hand and stood.
Within minutes, not
only had he snapped two pictures for me but had taken notes on two pre-med
students who had stayed up all night cramming for what they’d assumed would be
a pop quiz, only to find out that they’d been in the wrong class on the wrong
day.
“And that’s why I'm
not pre-med.” Gabe shuddered.
“Really?” Kiersten
asked. “I thought it was because big words scared you?”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
What now?” He nodded. “Keep talking, Kiersten, or keep walking.”
“Spell it.” She
smirked.
“So this
professor…” Gabe changed the subject. “If he tries anything, use the Mace or
the rape whistle.”
“Right.” I nodded.
“I’ll be sure to do that. In class. With a hundred other students. When he
looks at me cross-eyed.”
“Good,” he huffed.
“I was kidding.”
Saylor patted
Gabe’s shoulder. “Gotta let the baby birds out of the nest someday, Gabe.”
#2
I closed my eyes and leaned
my forehead against hers. A shaky breath escaped her lips. “I’m going to kiss
you now.”
“Are you trying to prepare me
or ask permission?” she whispered, her voice beckoning me like a siren’s call.
“Both.” My lips hovered near
hers. “I figure it’s only fair.”
“Fair?” She pulled back
slightly. “How so?”
“Ten thousand.” I angled my
head and watched the pulse jump on her neck. “That’s how many nerve endings, on
average, are in your lips. Consequently, when your body anticipates pleasure,
the build-up is the best part. Imagine, those ten thousand nerves are swelling,
allowing blood to surge through them in anticipation of… what?” I swept my
tongue across her lower lip and whispered, “Of being touched. I ask permission,
not because I’m being a gentleman. It’s actually the complete opposite. I ask
permission so your brain anticipates the pleasure before I’ve ever even touched
you.”
I tasted her lower lip again
and abruptly dipped my tongue into her mouth. Then just as quickly retreated.
“The human body is an instrument. Know how to master it… and well…” I let my
voice drop as I moved my hands slowly to her shoulders and tugged her body
flush against mine. Our mouths met softly at first. I deepened the kiss,
memorizing her taste, knowing I wouldn’t experience a kiss like this again in
my lifetime. The way her scent, her soft moans destroyed my body, wrecked me
from the deepest part of me, was nothing short of life-altering.
And I’d like to think I’d
kissed a lot of women.
I’d studied the psychology of
sexuality.
I was an expert in pleasure.
But she was schooling me,
absolutely wreaking havoc on every logical thought as her soft whimper cascaded
over me. Blood surged through my body as it tightened with awareness at her
proximity.
She pulled back, her lips
swollen. “That was… not a good enough warning.”
Laughing softly, I cupped the
back of her head and gently drew it toward mine and kissed her again, angling
my lips differently, searching her, consuming her, drawing pleasure from her
lips as if it was my life goal to discover every single secret she owned.
Her arms wrapped around my neck.
She was shy; she didn’t push against me, didn’t wrap her legs around me or moan
into my mouth like I was having sex with her rather than kissing her.
My hands moved down her
corset to her hips, and I lifted her into the air and walked her backward toward
the brick wall. The whole time, our masks collided. In frustration, I ripped
hers off, then mine. The shadows of moonlight hid our faces as I kissed her
harder, losing myself in her.
Her nails dug at the back of
my neck as she jerked my head harder. Groaning, I let her fall to the ground as
I placed my hands on the brick wall to keep myself from ripping the dress from
her body.
Shouting started from the
ballroom.
“Ten, nine…!”
“Eight,” I whispered against
her mouth. “Seven.”
“Six.” She sighed, her breathing
labored as her tongue found mine again. “Five.”
“Four, three.” I pulled back
and trailed kisses down her neck.
“Two.”
We broke apart, both
breathing heavy. “One.”
People burst out onto the
balcony as the fireworks started, lighting up the sky. And our faces.
And the only thing I could
say as she gasped in horror was “Oh, shit.”
#3
It was hard to explain the way he spoke to me; at times he
was flirtatious and well… happy. Other times? It seemed like he was fighting
another side of himself, one that was more reserved, uptight, controlled. And
if you were to ask me which side scared me the most? I’d say both. Because both
sides were dangerous to me — both pushed a person like me past the point of no
return. His seriousness made me curious; his flirtation made me want more.
“Just dinner?” I asked. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Yeah, well…” He glanced down briefly before flashing a
sensual smile, his eyes dilating. “…it seems to be an impulse I can’t really
control around you.”
“Control’s overrated, you label-making fool.”
At that he laughed, a rich chuckle that had my entire body
relaxing and heating at the same time. I took a step toward him and smiled.
“So, rule-breaker, where are we going?”
He grabbed his messenger bag and keys. “You’ll see.”
“Cryptic.” My eyebrows arched as I crossed my arms over my
chest. “This isn’t going to turn into one of those six o‘clock news things
where the crazy professor takes the girl out then buries her in the woods, is
it?” I tried to sound like I was joking, but the minute the words left my
mouth, it was no longer funny. Suddenly, I realized how stupid it would be to
go with him. I knew nothing about him, nothing at all!
He smiled, tilting his head toward me. “Why am I getting the
sudden urge to pull out a list of character references?”
“Because I just scared myself,” I admitted out loud.
“You want my social security number?” He winked. “Credit
score? First grade class photo? Oh, and by the way, in first grade I was
nominated most likely to own a pet store… so, if you aren’t okay with that, we
probably shouldn’t continue this.”
“This?”
“Dinner.”
“Because you liked pets?”
“I wanted to own a lizard farm.”
I covered my mouth with my hands and nodded solemnly. “All
little boys have dreams.”
“A bully crushed mine when he told me lizard farms don’t
exist.” He shook his head. “In second grade I was voted least likely to
succeed, on account that I didn’t speak for the entire year.”
“Why’s that?” I took another step toward him.
He took another step in my direction and shrugged. “It took
me a while to get over the lizards.”
“So you stopped speaking?”
“It was more of me trying to make the public aware of my
outrage.”
“Ah, like lizard strike.”
“I made shirts.”
“Tell me, professor, is that when the label-making started?”
“No.” He nodded toward the door and started walking. I
followed, genuinely interested in what he was going to say and hating that it
was possible he was stringing me along only to go all cold-crazy-psycho on me
again. “That was an entirely different situation.” He pulled the door open.
“What? No more stories?” I asked.
“Dinner.” He shrugged, his eyes a stormy gray. “I’ll tell
you at dinner.”
“Bribery.”
“My trump card. Label-maker stories. You know, I do actually
know how to romance a woman.”
“Well...” I cleared my throat and broke eye contact. “…since
I’m your student, I’ll just take your word for it.”
“Right,” he said quickly then repeated, “Right, shall we?”
“Lead the way.” I forced a smile and tried to remember that
this was dinner, nothing romantic, just my very sexy professor once again
apologizing for being a jackass during class.
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