I'm pleased to be able to welcome New Adult, Romance author Alicia Michaels to the blog! She's celebrating the release of her newest book, V-CARD, out today! Enjoy the excerpt, and don't forget to enter the giveaway before you leave. Good luck! :)
My mission? To lose my stupid virginity by my twenty-first birthday ... which is in two months. I can’t very well go into the next phase of adulthood with my v-card. How can I honestly call myself a ‘woman’ if I fidget, wheeze, and just about have a heart attack at even the thought of intimacy? Any guy I date is going to wonder what the hell is wrong with me.
So, it’s happening. I’m not sure when, or with who—since I’m not dating anybody—but I’m determined not to see twenty-one without shedding that one last thing keeping me at girl-status.
Drastic, much? I don’t think so. Maybe if you knew some of my history, you wouldn’t either. First, there was Jeremy …
My first attempt was as seventeen years old, senior year. It was like something out of a cheesy movie, making out in the back of a car after Homecoming at Lookout Point. Okay, so the place isn’t called Lookout Point, but The Ridge is a cliff overlooking my small Texas hometown and people do go there to make out. Me and Jeremy had been dating for six months—a lifetime in TDT. That’s Teenage Dating Time, by the way.
Anyway, things were getting pretty hot and heavy. The windows were steamed up and we had collapsed on to the backseat in a tangle of writhing arms and legs. Jeremy had me topless and was pretty much in teenage-dude heaven. I mean, I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’ve got some pretty nice boobs. Not too big or anything; average size, but almost the perfect shape and symmetry. Although, with the lack of finesse Jeremy showed in handling them, I doubt he would have cared if one was three sizes bigger than the other, or if my nipples were two different colors.
That familiar tingle of horny teenage hormones was tearing me up inside, turning me into a panting, thoughtless animal. I guess that natural high was what made me bold enough to attempt my first B.J. I mean, how hard could it be? It’s not exactly rocket science.
At least, I didn’t think it was. Apparently there is a science to it, especially when you wear braces. In my enthusiasm, I might have gone in a little too hard. I slipped, my face landed in his lap, and I almost unmanned him. To be fair, the wound was superficial, but there was so much blood you’d have thought someone was stabbed to death in the back of that car.
After dropping Jeremy off at the emergency room, I pretty much ended our relationship by ignoring him until graduation. He didn’t seem to mind. After I mutilated his man-parts, I doubt he would have felt safe getting in the sack with me without some major life insurance.
Let’s see, my next attempt came during my first semester of college, just a few months after my eighteenth birthday. Somehow, I managed to catch the eye of a teacher’s aide. He was a graduate student working on his Master’s in Education. While he was officially considered ‘faculty’, the age gap wasn’t that much and he was too gorgeous for me to be put off with teacher vibes. Slender with long legs and broad shoulders, ginger colored hair and green eyes peeking out from behind sleek, rectangular glasses. Alistair: even his name was sexy.
We traded a lot of smoldering looks across the classroom. Those looks turned into short conversations in passing. Some flirtations where our hands touched as we exchanged papers. One of those hand-touching exchanges led to me being propelled into an empty classroom.
Once again, the moment played out like something from a film. Alistair grabbed my ass and pulled me up against him, his lips crashing down over mine in a seductive move that left me swooning like an idiot. We tore at each other’s clothes, and as soon as he had my pants off, he lifted me and threw me onto a desk.
And right onto a stapler.
You’re probably thinking the two staples I took to my left butt cheek would have been enough to end it, but apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.
“I’m okay, really,” I told him, pulling him in for a kiss.
“Yeah?” he asked, his smile crooked and sexy as he swept the contents of the desk aside to avoid any more injuries. “I’ve wanted this forever,” he said, his mouth tracing a path from my neck and down to places that made my toes curl. My only response was a whimper, as I allowed him to lay me back, struck dumb by his sex appeal as he rested his weight over mine on the desk.
This resulted in another trip to the E.R.
Who’d have thought those classroom desks were so flimsy? It splintered as if it were made of matchsticks, dropping me to the floor, where I cracked the back of my head open on the tiles. A concussion and a few staples were enough to dampen that encounter. Luckily, Alistair did a good job covering up what we’d been about to do and no one was the wiser. When no one questioned his story about how he’d perched on top of the desk I’d been leaning against, causing it to collapse, we were in the clear. I probably could have had a chance with Alistair after that if I’d wanted it. Especially if the longing looks he threw my way were any indication. However, by then I was so freaked out about sex, I just couldn’t bring myself to allow him to get me alone. At the end of the semester, he graduated and I never saw him again.
After that, I decided my first time was going to have to be more vanilla to avoid injury. Good ole missionary position, laying on a bed sex … that was the way to do it. My braces were long gone and office supplies couldn’t impale me.
The chance came my sophomore year when I met Geoff, a moody, brooding art student. He was sexy in a less obvious way. Thin, long, and tall, with an ethereal face framed by inky black hair. He drew pictures of me and called me his muse. He was a total weirdo, but in an artsy sort of way. At least, I thought it was only in the artsy sort of way. He had me fooled for about four months and I thought I we were on our way to a long lasting relationship. That was before he got me half naked in his room and proceeded to try to tie me to the bed with a set of very scary looking leather straps. I don’t think I even bothered to get dressed before I ran, screaming for the hills.
After that I pretty much gave up. There have been a few guys I was interested in, and even a couple of great first dates and kisses. Just a month ago, I went on a date with a guy from my Sociology class. He was cute, funny—and, most importantly—normal. Just the kind of guy I wouldn’t mind giving my virginity to. Unfortunately, when our kisses started to turn in to something more, the twitching and wheezing started and I panicked. If I’m not careful I’m going to develop a reputation for this crap.
No, actually, I’m not.
I’m not, because I’m determined to just power through and do it.
The countdown is on.
60 days.
Oh God, I think I’m going to barf.
Jennifer Nolan has been unlucky when it comes to love; even more unfortunate when it comes to sex. In fact, the twenty year-old college junior is about to enter her senior year still carrying her v-card. All she wants is to be with that special someone without it resulting in a trip to the emergency room, runaway office supplies, or being scarred for life by someone's weird fetishes. With several botched attempts under her belt, she begins to fear she'll end up a lonely spinster or a crazy cat lady.
With only 60 days until her 21st birthday, Jennifer is determined to lose her virginity once and for all. Little does she know that her mission will lead her down a path toward love. She never expects that her mission will lead her to a discovery of what true womanhood is, and where true and lasting love begins.
 Ever since she first read books like Chronicles of Narnia or Goosebumps, Alicia has been a lover of mind-bending fiction. Wherever imagination takes her, she is more than happy to call that place her home. The mother of two and wife to an Army sergeant loves chocolate, coffee, and of course good books. When not writing, you can usually find her with her nose in a book, shopping for shoes and fabulous jewelry, or spending time with her loving family. |
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