[Book Blast] Very Bad Things - Ilsa Madden-Mills

Very Bad Things (#1 Briarcrest Academy)

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Release date: September 10

Born into a life of privilege and secrets, Nora Blakely has everything any nineteen-year-old girl could desire. She’s an accomplished pianist, a Texas beauty queen, and on her way to Princeton after high school.  She’s perfect…
Leaving behind her million dollar mansion and Jimmy Choos, she becomes a girl hell-bent on pushing the limits with alcohol, drugs, and meaningless sex.
Then she meets her soulmate.  But he doesn’t want her.
When it comes to girls, twenty-five-year old Leo Tate has one rule:  never fall in love.  His gym and his brother are all he cares about…until he meets Nora.  He resists the pull of their attraction, hung up on their six year age difference.
As they struggle to stay away from each other, secrets will be revealed, tempers will flare, and hearts will be broken.
Welcome to Briarcrest Academy…where sometimes, the best things in life are
Very Bad Things.

About the Author

Ilsa Madden-Mills wrote her first work at the age of twelve when she penned a little ditty about a handsome prince who had no sense. Since then, she’s always written, whether it was for work or fun. When she was young, she entered every short story and poetry contest around; when she was in college, she wrote for the university paper; when she taught English, she wrote a play along with a wonderful group of drama students.
Very Bad Things is her first full-length novel and part of a new series called Briarcrest Academy.
She graduated summa cum laude with a master’s in English from an esteemed university in the South where she now resides. She spends her days with two small kids, a neurotic cat, and her Viking husband. When she’s not typing away at a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.
She loves to hear from fans and fellow avid readers. Check her out on Facebook or her author website.

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Excerpts

***

Nora and Leo Meet

“Drop the paint and turn around slowly with your hands in the air.” The loud command was said with a deep voice. “I’ve got a gun, so move nice and slow.”
I bent over and placed the can on the pavement. I started to turn when— “I said put your hands in the air!” he yelled.
I yanked my hands up and eased around to face the owner of the voice.
He was about ten feet away from me, standing six feet and then some. He was missing a shirt but wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and flip-flops. Judging by his disheveled dirty blond hair and bloodthirsty eyes, I’d have to guess this might be the owner of the Escalade.
And I’d just woken him up.
He came closer to me, and my eyes were immediately drawn to his green-and-blue dragon tattoo. Like a giant snake, the scaled body of the dragon wrapped around his forearm and bicep with the neck coming down from his shoulder and the head resting on his broad chest. Red flames poured from its mouth, between laser sharp teeth.
This guy looked medieval.
So, I squinted and pictured him as a rugged Viking, wearing a horned helmet and gripping a spear instead of a gun. Maybe holding a shield instead of his flashlight and definitely wearing some of those laced-up leather boots. The word berserker (from round two of the famous spelling bee) came to mind, and I rolled the syllables around my tongue . . . ber-serk-er. Yep, that was him alright: one pissed off Norse warrior.
I grinned at my amazing analogy because, well, I’d had too much to drink.
“You think this is funny, son?” he snapped.
I shook my head, suddenly aware that some guy was pointing a gun at me.
And he thought I was a boy.

***

Leo Resists Nora

As if he’d made a decision, he pulled me out into the quiet hallway. Once we were alone, he said, “Now, about last night—” he stopped, appearing stuck on what to say.
“Yeah?”
He took two steps away from me, like he needed some space between us, like what he was going to say was difficult. He ran his hand through his hair furiously, pulling on the ends a little. “Nora, look, I think you’re a pretty girl, but there won’t be anything between us.”
My face flushed because I had acted inappropriately last night. Like a slut, really. Yet I didn’t regret it. And then there was my bad list. I wanted him for my meaningless sex. Still.
“Because you think I’m too young.”
“Yes.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry if I come across as a prick here, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I don’t do serious relationships ever, and you deserve something good, not just a quick fuck.”
I stared at his full lips, not holding back. “I like it when you say ‘fuck.’”

***

The Kiss in the Library

“I got one last request, and I’ll never ask again,” Leo said.
“What?” I croaked out.
He set his books on a shelf and then took mine and set them beside his. He tugged me to him until our chests were touching.
“What are you doing?” I mumbled in confusion.
He put his hands on either side of my face and slid them into my hair, letting out a breath as if in relief. “Just saying goodbye, Nora.”
“You’re going to kiss me?” I asked, tears pricking my eyes at the sadness in his face.
“Please, just this last time, Buttercup,” he said.
And with that one word, I was his.
He lowered his head, his gaze holding me captive. When our lips touched, his heated eyes stayed open and mine did, too. My mouth melted into his, moaning as his hot tongue explored the details of my tongue, my teeth, my lips. We started slow but it escalated rapidly, the passion between us burning higher and higher. He owned me with his mouth, and I was lost.
I palmed his ass, grinding myself against him. He hissed at the increased pressure and pushed me back against the sturdy bookshelf, positioning me so his hips fit into my pelvis. I lifted one of my legs, and he caught it and wrapped it around him.
“Say my name,” he muttered gruffly as I sucked hard at his neck. He grunted, and I dug my nails into his back as I kissed my way around his collarbone, sucking another spot.
“Say it, Nora.”
“Leo, Leo, Leo,” I pleaded, arching my back and pushing into him.
He shuddered. “Fucking love that,” he whispered.
 He placed his lips back on mine, dominating my mouth, like a man starved. All I could think about was him, him, him . . . his lips, his tongue, his taste, his butterscotch smell. I wanted all of him, and I’d never have him, and that thought made me frantic. I gripped him tighter, pushed my nails deeper, and kissed him harder.
I never wanted to say goodbye.