Love New Adult but looking for something with a little bite? Here's an event geared toward the other side of NA. Whether your tastes range toward shifters or men from other dimensions, there's a New Adult title out there for you.
Come by for prizes, games, and fun at the Facebook party between 8-10 est on February 13th. https://www.facebook.com/events/195085983970210/?fref=ts
Want more? Check out excerpts from current and future books by NA authors in the paranormal, Sci Fi, Horror, Dystopian, and Fantasy genres.
In participation, an excerpt from my NA novel, STATE OF EMERGENCY!
“Not as cute as me.” He winks. He actually winks, and somehow it actually comes across as sexy rather than stupid or creepy. I feel myself blushing, and I am extremely grateful that it’s so dark inside the camper shell.
“Well, you’re not cute,” I say, finishing off my bar.
“I’m not cute?” Chris repeats, looking shocked. “Is that why you stare at me all the time?”
“I’m not staring at you!” I retort. “I’m just making sure you’re not trying to kill me or something. Or steal my backpack.”
“Right. I’m just dying to steal a backpack with two energy bars and a plastic poncho.” He smirks. “That’s been my plan all along.”
“Hey, desperation drives people to do crazy things,” I say, taking my jacket off.
“You still don’t think I’m cute?” His smile is playful. Pleasant, even.
I spread my coat out like a blanket over my body, thankful for my thermal black shirt. Warmth is important these days. “No,” I say, and it’s the truth. Chris isn’t cute. He’s way too mature and fit and older to be cute. He’s hot. But he doesn’t need to know that’s what I think.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “I can see you smiling.”
“I’m not smiling,” I answer. “I’m laughing at you. Vanity is so yesterday.”
“Ah.” He suddenly reaches across the truck and places his arms right over my head. I freeze, surprised – and stunned.
“My brother,” he says, his face way too close, “is very similar to me. But he’s eleven years younger than I am.”
I hold my breath, my eyes flicking down to the fine goatee he has all the way around his mouth, up the sides of his cheeks. He’s got nice skin, a strong jaw, long, thick hair right above the shoulders that’s dark brown with blonde highlights.
“Chris,” I say, afraid to release a breath.
He moves closer. Way too close. I can actually feel him breathing against my skin, and he smells a little bit like the leftover coffee from Walter’s apartment. His eyes search my face for some kind of emotion. His gaze is so intense that it would be a crime to move. To breathe. And if I lean forward just an inch, I could kiss him.
“What…time is it?” I ask, glancing down at the crank radio, dropping my eyes. I can see the time from here: 8:33 p.m. He knows I can see it, too. But instead of pointing that out, he slowly moves his arms from the camper shell and pulls away, making a point of taking his time fingering the strands of hair falling over my shoulder. He looks either extremely smug or disappointed with my reaction. Maybe both.
I finally exhale and scratch the side of my head, wondering what I should say. Something like, “Why didn’t you kiss me?” or “Why did I ask for the time?”Chris says nothing, retreating into frustrating silence. I curl up into my usual ball and try to say warm as Chris flicks off the light.