Wicked Beginnings is a NEW Sports coming of age romance from L.A. Cotton.
We are excited to have the opportunity to share a quick look at this second chance love story!!!
We are excited to have the opportunity to share a quick look at this second chance love story!!!
Lo thought moving to Wicked Bay was the worst of her problems,
but as life begins to unravel around her, she's going to find out it's only the beginning...
SNEAK PEEK
“Oh my God.” Bile rushed up my throat, burning my insides, as I raked my sleepy gaze over Maverick. “What did you do?”
His head turned slowly, and he smirked despite the split in his lip, which was still dripping blood. “You should see the other guy.”
“Maverick,” his name fell from my lips like a curse. He hadn't talked to me since the kiss—the one we’d both pretended never happened. There had been nothing except for the odd heated stare or elusive text message. I thought we were done, yet here he was standing bloody and beaten in the pool house. His eyes darted to the boxes Dad left, and he swallowed hard. “When do you leave?”
I shrugged, unable to tear my eyes from the devastation that literally was his face. “Dad thinks it'll be the end of next week.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked again.
“You should let me look at that.” I motioned to his face, expecting him to refuse my offer. Instead, Maverick perched on one of the stools and dropped his head in a nod. Maybe he was just too exhausted to argue.
I didn't dwell on which as I hurried to the bathroom and retrieved the small first aid kit I knew was in the cabinet. When I returned, I ground to a halt. Seeing his face, his shredded knuckles, hurt me far more than it should have. But I'd come to accept that where Maverick was concerned, I didn't have a choice.
I never had.
Not since that very first night. I couldn't just switch off my irrational feelings for him. Something happened that night, something that imprinted him on my soul.
My heart.
Or maybe I was just a foolish girl that thought—hoped—she could tame the bad boy. After all, wasn't it most young girl’s fantasy to be to the one who could?
Maverick sensed me watching him and his hooded gaze slid down my body, as I stood there in nothing but Elliot's oversized Oxford University t-shirt, clutching the small bag as if it was a life raft.
And Maverick was the storm threatening to wreck me.
“Got any pain meds in there?”
Nodding, I retrieved some tablets and ran him a glass of water. Our fingers brushed as he took it from me, sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. Maverick's eyes widened with surprise, focused on where our hands joined, then slowly he lifted his face to mine.
God, I couldn't breathe.
When he looked at me like that I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.
I did melt.
I wanted him to touch me, taste me, anything to make the deep ache between my legs stop. The longing.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
I blinked and, with a tiny shake of my head, sifted through the kit to find some wipes. “This will probably sting.”
“I've felt worse.”
Rounding the breakfast bar, I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady myself. His face was a patchwork of grazes and cuts, but I started with the worse wounds, the ones trickling blood down his bronzed skin like a stream of fat crimson tears.
“Fuck,” he hissed a breath as the wipe smoothed over his cheekbone.
“Sorry.” I moved slower, barely touching the angry raised cut. “Why, Maverick? Why do you do this to yourself?”
“Don't,” he said. There was no warning in his tone. No bitterness. He almost sounded defeated.
Broken.
And it only made my need to fix him—to help him—stronger.
His head turned slowly, and he smirked despite the split in his lip, which was still dripping blood. “You should see the other guy.”
“Maverick,” his name fell from my lips like a curse. He hadn't talked to me since the kiss—the one we’d both pretended never happened. There had been nothing except for the odd heated stare or elusive text message. I thought we were done, yet here he was standing bloody and beaten in the pool house. His eyes darted to the boxes Dad left, and he swallowed hard. “When do you leave?”
I shrugged, unable to tear my eyes from the devastation that literally was his face. “Dad thinks it'll be the end of next week.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked again.
“You should let me look at that.” I motioned to his face, expecting him to refuse my offer. Instead, Maverick perched on one of the stools and dropped his head in a nod. Maybe he was just too exhausted to argue.
I didn't dwell on which as I hurried to the bathroom and retrieved the small first aid kit I knew was in the cabinet. When I returned, I ground to a halt. Seeing his face, his shredded knuckles, hurt me far more than it should have. But I'd come to accept that where Maverick was concerned, I didn't have a choice.
I never had.
Not since that very first night. I couldn't just switch off my irrational feelings for him. Something happened that night, something that imprinted him on my soul.
My heart.
Or maybe I was just a foolish girl that thought—hoped—she could tame the bad boy. After all, wasn't it most young girl’s fantasy to be to the one who could?
Maverick sensed me watching him and his hooded gaze slid down my body, as I stood there in nothing but Elliot's oversized Oxford University t-shirt, clutching the small bag as if it was a life raft.
And Maverick was the storm threatening to wreck me.
“Got any pain meds in there?”
Nodding, I retrieved some tablets and ran him a glass of water. Our fingers brushed as he took it from me, sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. Maverick's eyes widened with surprise, focused on where our hands joined, then slowly he lifted his face to mine.
God, I couldn't breathe.
When he looked at me like that I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.
I did melt.
I wanted him to touch me, taste me, anything to make the deep ache between my legs stop. The longing.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
I blinked and, with a tiny shake of my head, sifted through the kit to find some wipes. “This will probably sting.”
“I've felt worse.”
Rounding the breakfast bar, I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady myself. His face was a patchwork of grazes and cuts, but I started with the worse wounds, the ones trickling blood down his bronzed skin like a stream of fat crimson tears.
“Fuck,” he hissed a breath as the wipe smoothed over his cheekbone.
“Sorry.” I moved slower, barely touching the angry raised cut. “Why, Maverick? Why do you do this to yourself?”
“Don't,” he said. There was no warning in his tone. No bitterness. He almost sounded defeated.
Broken.
And it only made my need to fix him—to help him—stronger.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
MORE ABOUT WICKED BEGINNINGS
The first book in a brand new YA/NA crossover series from l. a. cotton
When seventeen-year-old Eloise Stone finds herself half way across the world, moving into her Uncle's pool house, she expects things to be ... awkward. She doesn't expect to come face-to-face with the boy from last summer. The boy that made her feel things she'd never felt before. But a year is a long time, and Lo isn’t the same girl she was then. Besides, they’re family now.
It’s weird.
Maverick Prince acts as if he doesn’t remember her, treating Lo like nothing more than an annoying younger sister, and not in a ‘he cares’ way, just in a ‘he’s an arsehole’ way. One thing‘s for sure, he isn’t just dangerous for her sanity—he’s hazardous for her heart.
Lo thought moving to Wicked Bay was the worst of her problems, but as life begins to unravel around her, she’s going to find out it’s only the beginning…
The first book in a brand new YA/NA crossover series from l. a. cotton
When seventeen-year-old Eloise Stone finds herself half way across the world, moving into her Uncle's pool house, she expects things to be ... awkward. She doesn't expect to come face-to-face with the boy from last summer. The boy that made her feel things she'd never felt before. But a year is a long time, and Lo isn’t the same girl she was then. Besides, they’re family now.
It’s weird.
Maverick Prince acts as if he doesn’t remember her, treating Lo like nothing more than an annoying younger sister, and not in a ‘he cares’ way, just in a ‘he’s an arsehole’ way. One thing‘s for sure, he isn’t just dangerous for her sanity—he’s hazardous for her heart.
Lo thought moving to Wicked Bay was the worst of her problems, but as life begins to unravel around her, she’s going to find out it’s only the beginning…
ONE CLICK YOUR COPY TODAY!
☆☆☆☆☆☆
Author of mature young adult and new adult novels, L A is happiest writing the kind of books she loves to read: addictive stories full of teenage angst, tension, twists and turns.
Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time writer with being a mother/referee to two little people. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.
L A loves connecting with readers, and you can find her at:
I Facebook I Amazon I GoodReads I Website I Instagram I Twitter I
Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time writer with being a mother/referee to two little people. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.
L A loves connecting with readers, and you can find her at:
I Facebook I Amazon I GoodReads I Website I Instagram I Twitter I
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