We are so please to introduce
brand new author Mia Storm with her debut release, Getting
Dirty.
Releasing on March
19th
Dirty
A poem by Blaire Leon
If sex is
dirty, why would I do it with someone I love?
If sex is
dirty, then didn’t we all come from the dirt?
What if I
like the dirt?
What if I
want to get dirty?
What if I
want to roll in the mud until I’m so fucking filthy that I’ll never be clean
again?
When
twenty-five-year-old graduate assistant Caiden Brenner asked Blaire Leon how
old she was, she said she was a senior. He chose to believe she meant in college.
They connect over Lord Byron’s Don Juan and, as their
conversations become increasingly thicker with sexual innuendo, Caiden finds
himself obsessing over a totally off-limits undergrad who’s bold, beautiful,
brilliant, and one of the most passionate poets he’s ever met.
But it turns out Blaire
hasn't been totally honest. She's the seventeen-year-old valedictorian of her
high school class, taking courses at Sierra State while awaiting her acceptance
to Stanford.
Will Caiden get too
deeply into Blaire to back away before he finds out the truth? Or will their
connection be enough to seduce him into risking his entire future on Jail Bait?
Excerpt
“What year are you?” I don’t even realize I’ve
said it until it’s out of my mouth.
Her eyes flick from the book to mine. “A
senior.”
I feel my eyebrows arch before I can stop them.
“You look younger.”
She bites her lips between her teeth for a
moment. “Is that good or bad?”
“Neither, I suppose.” But my insides burn,
knowing that she’s not as off-limits as I originally thought. It’s nearing the
end of January. Commencement will be here soon enough. She graduates and all
bets are off.
“So…” she says, twisting a finger into the
ends of her hair. “I know you like old, dead poets. How do you feel about
hearing something fresher?”
I lean toward her. “Such as?”
“I’m reading in a poetry slam tonight. It’s
just something over at Tino’s in Jonestown on the fourth Friday of every month.
There’s no prize money or anything, but I perform something new pretty much
every month.”
“A poetry slam…” I want to say yes in the
worst way, but it feels dangerously like a date.
She must read the hesitation in my eyes. “If
it’s too weird, no worries. I just thought, since you like poetry…”
She leaves the thought dangling. Like a noose.
And I jump right into it. “Yeah. Why not?”
The answer to that rhetorical question is that
it’s not May yet and she hasn’t graduated. I’m risking everything I’ve worked
the last three years toward. My entire future. But the voice of reason is being
drowned out by the raging waves of something rolling up from the deepest layers
of my being like an undertow.
Something base and essential. And unrelenting.
“Do you want to meet me there?” she asks,
standing from her seat and giving me a better view of the entire exquisite
length of her.
“Yeah…that’s probably best.” Plausible deniability.
No, Dr. Duncan, I didn’t have any clue she’d be there. Just went to hear the
poetry.
“Great,” she says as she gathers her book and
shoves it in her bag. “It starts at nine. There are usually five or six poets
and it’s a random draw, so I don’t know what time I’ll be reading.”
I nod without standing, no longer able to tame
my erection. “I’ll be there at nine.”
“You know where Tino’s is?”
Electricity crackles under my skin. I’m really
doing this. “Yeah. I’ll find it.”
About the Author
Mia
Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending.
Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be
able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and
spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black
coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite. Connect with her online
at MiaStormAuthor.blogspot.com , on Twitter at @MiaStormAuthor, and on Facebook
at www.facebook.com/MiaStormAuthor.
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