Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Tour: by Missy Johnson and Ashley Suzanne

What happens when you start falling for your worst enemy? Fans of Abbi Glines and Monica Murphy will relish this addictive novel of smoking-hot seduction—and revenge gone so wrong, it’s right.

I wasn’t always this jaded. I had a clear head, things I wanted out of life, and a concise plan on how to get there. For being only twenty-one, I pretty much had it all figured out. Until the day my cousin died.

I spent months going over all the details surrounding her death, trying to figure out how I missed the signs, and the only thing I could come up with was she would still be alive if it wasn’t for one person: her professor. So I transferred to his college, enrolled in his class, and set my new plan in motion.

First I’ll seduce him. Then I’ll ruin him. I’ve just got to stay strong and not let his charm and my emotions get the best of me. Because someone has to pay for her death. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to break Noah.

Breaking Noah
By: Missy Johnson & Ashley Suzanne
Releasing May 12, 2015

Fumbling to set the papers down on the table closest to the door for the students to take as they mill inside, I nervously glance at Zara. “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Hamilton?” I should have known she wouldn’t let my actions from last night go. This is going bad fast. Time to put a little distance between us so I don’t give her the wrong idea.
She glances up from the file she’s currently studying and stares into my eyes—no hint of embarrassment, no deer-in-the-headlights look—she just refocuses her attention. “No. Not really.”
I step farther into the room, closer to Zara, and immediately notice the slight shift in the air. It’s charged with something. Not sure what, but it’s strange and something I’ve never felt before. “So, may I ask why you’re going through my belongings?”
“Well, if you’re able to invade my personal space, I should be afforded the same privilege,” she replies, deadpan. “You’re more boring than I thought. I was hoping to run across something interesting, but it appears your most recent reading material is my student file.” She places the file on the desk, her fingers still grazing the thick card-stock folder, and zips my bag shut.
“Maybe we should discuss the events of last night, Ms. Hamilton. I don’t want there to be any reason that there’s an uncomfortable feeling for either of us.” I’ll bring it up and put it to bed if she doesn’t want to. This isn’t the way our student-teacher relationship should have begun, but the damage is done and all I can do is redefine the boundaries.

“Oh, I’m not uncomfortable, Noah. It is okay that I call you that, right? Of course it is. What was I thinking? Now, Noah, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I just figured you wouldn’t care if I went through your bag. After all, it’s my file that’s in here.” She grips the file with her name printed on the tab, waiving it sarcastically. My discomfort is quickly changing to annoyance.
Zara hops off the corner of my desk and sits in the one across from it. Well, she doesn’t actually sit in it, per se, but on top of it, in the same position she was in just a moment ago. I desperately attempt to remind myself that I’m her teacher, but the man in me ignores that thought and I can’t help but zero in on her long, ivory legs and where the tops of her thighs disappear under the skirt. She’s a student, I’m her teacher, I chastise myself, and I’ve already crossed a line that should have never been crossed to begin with. The dean could take my job right now if she knew about the improper conduct.
“Zara, I’m not going to lie to you. I read your file yesterday afternoon and I wanted to be sure you were living in an okay area and were taken care of. Your file said you live here alone and all of your family is back in Ohio. It struck me as strange that you would just transfer mid- semester, and you arrived too late to be assigned any student housing. It was inappropriate, and I apologize for intruding. I’ve concluded that you must be doing all right and it’s none of my concern. Also, it’s not okay to call me Noah. My name is Mr. Bain or Professor Bain.”
“If you wanted to know more about me, you could have asked. I’m not upset with you, though. I might have done the same if I were in your shoes. Thank you for caring.” When she finishes her statement, she shifts slightly and the fabric of the skirt rises up her thigh high enough for me to get a glimpse of her underwear. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was doing this on purpose. Of course she isn’t. She’s a beautiful girl and has a boyfriend. Granted, I’m only twenty-six, but in her eyes, I might as well be fifty. I try diverting my gaze, but the red panties she’s wearing call to me like a beacon in the night.
Snap out of it, Noah. Eyes. Off. Thighs.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. Hamilton.” I try to remain stoic, but with Zara it’s difficult. I know I’ve said it before, but she doesn’t come off as your typical college student.
Startling me in my seat, the door flings open and my classroom begins to fill with students. “Well, thanks for the chat, Mr. B., but I need to get to my first class. Lots of stuff to learn today.” Zara struts out of the classroom, her backpack slung across one arm and purse dangling from the other. Before she’s completely out of sight, she turns her head slightly and winks.
I really need to get a grip. I shouldn’t be staring at my student’s behind, but more important, I can’t get caught staring. This is going to end badly. So much for redefining boundaries. If anything, I’ve crossed even more. God help me.

Ashley Suzanne has been writing for as long as she can remember. As a youngster, she was always creating stories and talking to her imaginary friends. Thankfully, her parents also carried this love of fiction, and helped her grow into the bestselling author she is today. When Ashley isn’t coming up with her next story, you'll most likely find her on the couch, telling her husband all about her new book boyfriend, or spending quality time with her two gremlins . . . er, adorable children.

Hosted by

No comments:

Post a Comment