So by now you know that my debut, MY SUPER SWEET SIXTEENTH CENTURY, has a brand new look :)
Last week I celebrated by sharing TWO never-before-seen sneak peeks, the first look at my new book trailer, AND hosting an International Giveaway. The winners have all been notified--3 from the US, one from Canada, one from the UK, and one from Egypt....a pretty cool and diverse group, so mad props to Rafflecopter. The prizes will be in the mail Friday, so congratulations again to all the winners!
During the fun, TWO excerpts were floating around the blogosphere....At YA Bound, where we hosted the reveal, I had an exclusive sneak peek, and the fantabulous group of bloggers who helped spread the word showcased another special snippet. In case you missed either, I've gathered them together and listed them here for your (I hope) reading enjoyment :)
Thrust into the sixteenth century armed with only a backpack full of contraband future items, Cat joins up with her ancestors, the sweet Alessandra and protective Cipriano, and soon falls for the gorgeous aspiring artist Lorenzo. But when the much-older Niccolo starts sniffing around, Cat realizes that an unwanted birthday party is nothing compared to an unwanted suitor full of creeptastic amore.
Sneak Peek ONE:
“You are an artist?”I decide to let the shock and awe in Lorenzo's voice slide. His face breaks into a breathtaking smile and I lose myself for a moment in just how gorgeous this boy really is. He scrunches his mouth, which just makes me think about kissing it again, and guides my finger to point to the sky, pressing his chest close behind me.My eyes flitter closed and my body begins to sink against him.“What do you see?”At the wonder-filled whisper in my ear, my eyes open and my spine straightens. I blink to focus. “Clouds?”I hear the soft chuckle under his breath and instantly feel stupid. This is a test. An artist’s test. A test I am going to pass with flying colors.“I meant to say that I see an azure sky with wisps of magnolia-colored clouds,” I clarify, a smug smile creeping up my face.“Very good,” Lorenzo says. “My father would look up and see nothing more than commonplace blue and white. He has no imagination.”Proud that I proved myself imaginative, I sit taller.Then he asks, “What about shapes? What objects do you see in the clouds?”This test is harder. I let my eyes relax as I gaze above, hoping and praying I’m not as closed off as his dad. I’ve always loved art. It’s the one place I can make a name for myself—the one area I can just be me, without the mess of who my family is. But I’ve never really stopped to see the beauty in everyday things like cloud formations.As I watch above, shapes suddenly pop out at me, and a grin creeps up my face. I haven’t stared at clouds since I was a kid, but he’s exactly right. This is art. “Well, right there—that one? That is a huge clock tower, and to the left below it is an elegant arched bridge.” Despite myself, I snuggle back into his hard chest and sigh. “I love bridges.”Lorenzo stiffens behind me, and I look up to see him staring intently in Cipriano’s direction. I remember his promise not to touch me and go to move, but he snakes his arm around my waist, securing me against him.As if nothing happened, he carries on. “They are quite beautiful,” he says, his whisper huskier now. I swallow and close my eyes as he presses his nose between my shoulder and neck, grazing my skin softly as he inhales deeply. “However, you missed the cherub floating down the celestial road.”
“I thought I’d teach you a dance from where I come from,” I tell him. “One that’s much easier than that multi-step mess inside.”I place my left hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder and slip my right one into his. I pause to listen to the music floating over the tinkling voices and bubbling fountain, and begin counting the three-beat tempo. “One, two, three. One, two, three.”I stand still, only my head moving, slowly nodding with my words so he can hear the rhythm.When his head begins subtly bobbing with mine, I show him how to add his feet. He takes a tentative step forward with his left while I step back with my right, then we side step, close, and repeat the steps with our other feet, all while I lightly whisper the beat count.The breeze picks up, blowing my skirt and skimming my veil across the back of my neck. Chills run down my spine, but the warmth coursing through my veins from being in his arms provides a delicious contradiction.Lorenzo continues nervously darting his eyes to our feet, but he is dancing. As he relaxes into the movement, his shoulders rising and falling with the steps, the confidence he always seems to exude creeps back on his face, and he tightens the hold around me. Our faces are kissably close, our lips a hairs breadth away from touching. I stare into the chocolate depths of his eyes and the rest of the ball fades away. The only music guiding our steps is my light whisper and the erratic rhythm of our breathing. Time slows. Lorenzo grins.“I think you got it,” I say breathlessly, running my hand along the soft fabric of his shoulder, feeling the rock-hard muscles underneath.My body curls inward, pressing against his. The proper form for the waltz is a straight spine and shoulders back, but if there was ever a time to break the rules, this is it.