New Adult
With one look, I’m his . . .
With one touch, he’s mine . . .
With one kiss, it changes everything
between us . . .
I’ve been famous since I can
remember. Singing, acting, dancing—I’ve done it all. The tabloids cover my
every move, but I don’t want that anymore. I want to be normal, whatever that
is.
When I leave Hollywood for college
in Vermont, I’m on my own for the first time in my life. This is my chance to
figure out who I am and what I want in life.
But it’s a lot harder than I
expected. I can’t escape my image. Classes are hard, and I’m struggling. And
then there’s Caleb Fox.
Sexy, intriguing Caleb Fox.
Caleb is the one man who doesn’t
want to use me. He breaks down my walls. He challenges me. He wants me.
And I just don’t know if I can give him the same—or if he’ll stick around when
he finds out my shameful secret that the tabloids haven’t managed to uncover.
Dating him is risky enough, but
loving him could break me.
Author bio:
Elyssa Patrick writes sexy,
emotional contemporary romances and New Adult. She is currently working on her
next novel.
Twitter: @elyssapatrick
Elyssa Patrick www.elyssapatrick.com
Exclusive Excerpt:
“This might take a while,” he says.
“I guess I’ll just have to close my
eyes and suffer through it.”
“No suffering,” he promises.
His hand slides up my back, and my
muscles, already tightened with awareness, start to ache from wanting. His
fingers skate up my neck, and my nerves jangle. I’m suddenly wondering if he’s
ever going to kiss me.
I reach my hand up his chest,
knotting his shirt in my grasp and yank him to me. “Caleb.”
He lowers his head to me, and my
eyelids flutter close. I lean toward him, waiting—just waiting—for when he
touches me. I tighten my hold on him, trying to urge him to do it now,
but, no, he doesn’t heed my unspoken demands. He doesn’t hurry. He doesn’t
rush. It’s like he has all the time in the world until he kisses me.
But then his finger gently swipes
over my mouth, tracing it softly, like he’s memorizing the shape of me. Like
he’s trying to get all the details of my mouth down before his mouth claims me.
He presses lightly against my lower lip, dipping into the soft plumpness there.
I smooth my hands out on his chest.
I’m pressed against him so tight that I can’t do more than reach up and grasp
his shoulders. I want to feel his hair slide through my fingers.
But more than that I want to
feel him against me.
Almost as if he heard my thoughts,
Caleb’s lips flutter against the corner of my mouth, where he removed the berry
stain only a few moments ago. I still, and his hand leaves my neck to slide
down to rest at the small of my back before moving back up in a slow movement
that has pleasure coursing through my body. I gasp, and his mouth flutters
another kiss at the corner. Brief, these flutter kisses—never quite landing
fully on my lips or staying too long.
I make a sound of want. I press even
closer, as if I’m inking myself on his skin, in his blood, urging this patient,
sexy man to take my mouth—and to take it now.
He doesn’t.
His mouth finally touches mine but
it’s not a kiss that claims or declares intent.
He gives.
His lips give kisses upon mine, like
rain watering a parched land. His mouth moves touches mine, gentle, strong, and
it makes me cling to him, to give more to him, to open up in ways I never have
with any man before.
His teeth catch on my lower lip,
lightly tugging, as if asking a question, one that I answer by opening my mouth
and letting him in. His tongue slides against me, tasting, seeking. He’s all I
know, all I want to know, and I want him to know me in all the ways, too.
This might just be lust, but it
doesn’t feel like it—not with this assured gentleness, this giving of a kiss,
like he’s waited all his life for this—for me—and now that I’m
here, he’s not going to do anything to mess it up.
He doesn’t make me feel weak in his
kiss. I feel strong, treasured . . . desired.
His kiss turns hotter, as if he’s
losing control of himself.
Oh yes, I think. Lose control, Caleb. Lose it with me.
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