Age Group: NA/Adult
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: 9/22/14
How far would you go for a second chance?
Eleven years after flunking out of college, Kate has finally hit rock-bottom. Losing her job and boyfriend in one drunken night, she’s determined to fix her life by going back to the moment when she let partying and sex take over and do things right. At twenty-nine, she heads back to freshman year of college, with a catch.
Pretending she's nineteen with a new roommate and full class schedule is easy. When she meets her shy, sexy and seven-years-younger RA Carter, following her self-imposed sobriety and celibacy rules is proving to be anything but.
A senior enduring years of regret, Carter is more than ready to graduate. He’s anxious to move on from the party his freshman year where he witnessed his frat brothers about to commit a sexual assault. Instead of doing the right thing and stepping in, he looked the other way and left. His guilt has made for a lonely four years.
When he meets the new freshman on his floor, spunky and confident Kate, he wonders if his time as an outcast has finally come to an end.
Kate and Carter’s growing friendship and undeniable attraction make it harder to hide the demons from their respective pasts. But when their secrets are finally revealed, will their chance at starting over together still be there?
Excerpt
Carter
I was
startled by a knock at my door. A law book lay on my bare chest as I stared at
the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t do anything but feel
Kate’s hand on me.
After
dinner and a longer than usual good-bye with Kate, I’d gone back to my room
alone. I should have invited her back, but as good as it felt being with her,
there was a part of me that knew it was wrong considering everything that had
happened with Jeanie.
Kate made me forget my guilt, if
only for a moment. I was still trying to decide if I deserved that reprieve.
I
looked at the clock—it was well after midnight—probably someone with a noise
complaint.
I
stretched, yawned, and they knocked again, more forcefully.
I
rose from the bed. I tried not to hope it was Kate, but the thought was like
wind trying to bluster past what my mind crammed down. I pulled open the door.
She
stood in the hall in a tight white T-shirt and a pair of even tighter yoga
pants, my denied fantasies becoming real.
Considering
she wasn’t wearing a bra, my fantasy wasn’t even close to how amazing real was.
I couldn’t stop looking at her perfect tits curving through the fabric, her
nipples popped at attention and begging for me to put one of them in my mouth.
My
pulse thumped in my groin.
“I
came to finish what we started,” she said, pushing past me into the room. “And
I’m stone cold sober, so don’t even ask.”
I
finally managed to shut the door and my mouth as she settled herself on the
edge of my bed. Her hair was down and flicking like golden flames against her
shoulders, her eyes wide and firmly fixed on mine.
“Maybe
I’m coming on too strong,” she said, “but I couldn’t sleep and I kind of
thought after the car today, you probably couldn’t either.”
Any
questions I had fell away. The certainty she had to be mine became my only
answer.
“I
never want to finish what we started,” I said, the words the only truth that
mattered in that moment, “I never want this to be over.”
My
body could do nothing but move next to
her on the bed and kiss her. My heartbeat seemed to make the mattress
vibrate below us. It was the only thing I could hear, her breath and my heart
and our lips and tongues swirling against each other at the same tempo.
“This
is progress,” she said, pulling back to cup my cheekbone.
I
considered telling her why I hadn’t been able to go through with what she was
pushing for. Why I’d made her stop
earlier—the reason aside from my past. Because it had been so long since I’d
been with someone, the thought of it was almost too much to take.
When
she touched me earlier I almost exploded. So not cool. So not the guy I hoped
to be for her. But that would have made me feel like a child, like someone she
needed to lead.
She
deserved to know how badly I wanted her, too. She wasn’t pushing me to do
anything.
I ran
my thumb along her palm, against each finger, her blood sliding hot as lava
underneath. I kissed her again and took her shirt off in one quick motion. I
ran my hands over her tits. The skin was so soft, her
nipples getting harder as I stroked, seeming to beg for me as my fingers
wandered. She let out a moan that echoed in the back of my throat, her tongue
pushed against mine, hungrier, harder.
Her
penetrating kisses became as insistent as the only words in my head—I need to be inside her.
Our
bodies fell against each other with no barriers, only hot, searching skin.
Just
the two people we were when we were alone together.
No
pasts, no secrets, solely enveloped by the truth of our need, our want.
She
pulled back and curved her hands over the muscles of my chest like she was
trying to cement her decision. I was glad she stopped. I didn’t want this to
end too quickly for a lot of reasons. The least of which was embarrassing
myself.
She
rose from the bed and stood in front of me, allowing me to take her in.
Her
half-naked visage was too much, I had to touch her again, the pull as raw as a
magnet.
Forget
going slow. I reached out for her, the temptation seared like a hot poker in my
groin.
She
shook her head and slid off her pants, revealing she wasn’t even wearing
panties. A rush ran through me, so strong I could barely breathe. She’d known
exactly what she wanted to do when she walked down our dorm hallway.
I
made myself inhale and exhale. She was way too hot for me to keep my cool, but I had to try. I could barely sit still,
barely speak. “Wow,” I said my eyes darting seemingly everywhere, to her smooth
stomach, the bow-like curve of her tits and ass, her long legs, her gentle
shoulder blades, and back again to those perfect tits.
“I
told you you’d never forget.”
“I
mean it,” I replied, practically whistling.
“Just
FYI,” she smiled. “I haven’t been wearing them all day.” She indicated her
empty pants below her.
“If I
would have known I would never have been able to stop you earlier.” It was
true. I was drowning now with her next to me, so ready, so willing.
So
mine.
“No,
I’m glad you did,” she said. “This is perfect.”
Feasting
on her silhouette against my desk lamp, I had to admit it was.
“You are perfect,” I said, standing to
join her.
She
went for the button of my pants, her eyes glued to mine, wanting to enjoy my
reaction as she took me into her hand.
My
whole body trembled at her touch, but this time I would be able to do something
about it. I was dizzy as she continued to stroke me, a flash that made me
blind. It’s not like I’d been a monk for three years, but I hadn’t been with
anyone else. Having her hands on me
was like a drug I hadn’t even known I was addicted to.
I
couldn’t wait anymore. I picked her up and she wrapped her legs around me as I
entered her. Her soft warmth was searing and shook me. With each thrust I felt
more and more like I was floating, flying, like she was holding me above the
ground. The two of us were suspended in each other, like a tornado, spinning.
Her
breath quickened. Her chin on my shoulder, her lips on my neck. “More,” she
said, her words no match for my pumping jugular.
I
obliged, giving her everything. Thrashing against her with so much force the
back of my thighs ached, my hips burned. She was about to come. I pulled back,
teasing her, teasing myself. She bit down on my shoulder and wailed seconds
before her whole body shook. I echoed, coming like a freight train, three weeks
of want and three years of isolation hitting me all at once.
I
held her against me, listening to her breath—there was nothing else but her and
me in this whole world.
I
kissed her lightly, tasting her mouth. “That was worth waiting for.”
She
could have no idea I’d meant for more than our three week ballet. I’d meant all
my three years of solitude. I’d meant all my life.
Her
brown eyes were wild and shining, her cheeks blushed pink as if she was my
palette and my touch was her paint.
My drought, as Tristan had called it,
needed to be broken by a woman deserving of a flood. Who could make me drown
and save me simultaneously.
“Worth
doing again?” she asked, snaking her hand down to see if I was ready.
About Lisa Burstein
Lisa Burstein is the author of the Young Adult Novels: Pretty Amy and Dear Cassie, and the New Adult Novels & Novellas: Sneaking Candy, The Next Forever & The Possibility of Us. She is also a contributor to the essay collection, Break These Rules: 35 Young Adult Authors On Speaking Up, Standing Out, and Being Yourself. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her very patient husband, a neurotic dog and two cats. Again is her self-publishing debut.
