Ginger Scott's Blog - Posts Tagged "teaser"

I'm excited to share the first teaser from "Going Long," the sequel to "Waiting on the Sidelines." Reed and Nolan's story continues as they navigate the challenges that come along with a long-distance relationship in college and the growing pains that come along with truly growing up.

It was important to me to stay true to the coming-of-age genre with the first book, giving you an honest look at every heartbreak and pivotal moment in Nolan's life as she matured from naive tomboy to woman in love. In "Going Long," you'll get to see the rest of the story unfold from both Reed and Nolan's perspectives. Here's a small taste to hold you over until the fall, and I'll be sharing more before the book's planned launch sometime in October.


Reed's perspective:

Nolan and Sarah were waiting on the leather sofa at the main entrance to the athletes quarters, their feet folded up in their laps. The girls had grown closer in college and even more so when Sienna moved in with her boyfriend. I was glad that Nolan had someone like Sarah to look after her. She’d told me off a time or two, and I’ll be honest, it made me nervous. I wanted that same toughness at Nolan’s side when I wasn’t around.

“Well, how’d I do?” I asked, kicking at Nolan’s folded legs a little.

She stood up, pulling her shirt down over the top of her shorts, always modest and still so damned unsure of her beauty. Chewing at the inside of her cheek a little, she put her thumb to her lip like she was considering something. “Hmmmm, I don’t know, Johnson. I’d put you at about eighty percent,” she nodded, acting with disappointment.

“Eighty percent, huh?” I said, rushing her a little and swinging her over my shoulder to carry her through the doors. Her giggling started then, the best sound in the whole damn world. “Eighty percent?”

I took off running, leaving Sarah behind. Nolan knew exactly where I was going as she started slapping at my back and threatening me that I’d ‘better not.’ When we got to the main fountain at the center of campus, I pulled her back over my shoulder and held her in my arms as I pulled off my shoes with my feet.

“Reed Johnson, don’t you dare!” she screamed as I stepped over the concrete edge and waded in the water, sliding closer and closer to the main spray. Her screams and giggles only egged me on.

“You want to rethink that B minus, Noles? Eighty percent? You sure about that?” I said, freezing in place, just one more step away from the full effects of the waterfall. I looked her in the eyes and watched as she flinched, just for a minute, and then finally did it.

“OK, maybe I was being a bit unfair. You were really more of an eighty-two,” she said, baiting me.

Our eyes locked, I pushed my lips tight into a disapproving grin and shook my head. “Oh, now you’ve done it,” I said, stepping forward and stopping us underneath the force of the fountain’s shower. Nolan wasn’t mad. Sure, she screamed and smacked at my chest as the freezing water poured over us. But my playfulness never rattled her. If anything, it had the opposite effect, which I was counting on as she reached around my neck and pulled my head to hers for a forceful kiss. Her hands grabbed at my soaked T-shirt, pulling me closer. I let her body slide from my arms so I could wrap my fingers through her hair. It was a good thing Trig and Sarah reminded us we were in public.

“God, you two. It’s bad enough that I don’t have a boyfriend, but do I really have to be the uncomfortable third wheel on our way to the bars, too?” Sarah broke us up.

“Sorry, Sar. I get carried away, what can I say,” I said, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, reaching for Nolan’s hand to help her climb over the edge of the fountain. But I wasn’t about to let her go. I grabbed her back in my arms and dunked her once more, pushing my forehead to hers as she slid her hair back out of her eyes and blinked the beaded water from her lashes, laughing. I swung her back and forth in my arms as I carried her back to the dry side, the tips of our noses touching and my lips tingling just watching her bite her lower lip. Unable to take it, I had to kiss her once more, the soft and slow kind I did when I forgot others were watching or when I wanted everyone to know she was mine. And she was…she had my whole entire heart.

I can't believe the time is almost here. I'm tremendously proud of 'Waiting on the Sidelines,' and I'm so touched that so many of you have bonded with Reed and Nolan's story.

Writing 'Going Long' was like coming home...I missed these characters, and I wanted to spend more time with them. I'm excited to share their next chapter with you. In fact, that's exactly what I'm doing today: Below you'll find the first 2 pages of 'Going Long.' The story is told from both Reed and Nolan's points of view. It just so happens that both of my teasers are from Reed's perspective -- I've heard from many readers who wanted to get inside "that boy's head," so I figured there wouldn't be any complaints:-)

SPOILER: Fair warning -- if you haven't read the first book yet, you may want to wait before reading this teaser. It doesn't give everything away, but it might be more than some care to know or read. I hope you enjoy! And...I promise the next thing you see, come October, will be the entire book available.

Thank you all for reading! You are precious to me.

--------


Reed:

The first time I thought about marrying Nolan Lennox, she had just saved my father’s life. The thought was fleeting, and it scared the hell out of me. I was only 17.

Nolan and my dad were the only two people to have ever seen me cry. I mean snot-dripping-from-your-nose, gasping-for-breath, body-shaking cry. And I was a child when I cried in front of my dad—not so much a child when I let it all out in Nolan’s arms while my dad lay under some surgeon’s knife, his heart cut open and failing.

It was something about the way Nolan knew what to do, the way she took care of my dad when he had a heart attack—the way she took care of me. The moments were brief, bit-flashes of time, but they also filled my mind with visions of forever. I recognized it right away, but chose to ignore it for a while. It happened again when I thought some asshole had raped her, and all I wanted to do was go to jail for having beat the shit out of him. And it happened the first time I kissed her, I mean really kissed her.

I stopped ignoring it, though, when I drove through the desert from Tucson to her dorm room at ASU, 110 miles away. The sun was setting, and I had just read her name in the newspaper story about the accident that broke us apart our senior year in high school—her words so sad, full of regret and guilt. I let her go because I didn’t think I was good for her, didn’t want her to give up her dreams for mine. I didn’t want to carry that weight on my shoulders, I guess. But she blamed herself anyway. And I just had to fix it, had to hold her. And when it hit me that I never wanted to stop holding her, I hit the gas hard and made it to her building just as dusk was setting in.

The guy working the front desk of her building recognized me and let me in, but not before ribbing me about playing for the wrong school and letting me know that ASU’s line was going to flatten my ass more than a few times. I let him heckle me for a bit, before he reached for my hand and shook it—almost like he was star struck, and I was his bro. I was going to have to get used to this kind of attention.

He gave me Nolan’s room number, and I charged up the steps three stairs at a time. When I got to her door, I pounded on it manically. The hallways were quiet, her neighbors gone, and most of the doors were closed and dark underneath. A short, mousy girl opened a door down the hall, and I walked over slowly, smiling so she wouldn’t freak out. She told me everyone had gone to some dance on campus. I just thanked her and told her I’d wait so she didn’t wonder why I was hanging out in the hall.

I must have dozed off after a few hours, my head buried in the music pumping in my ears, my hat shielding my eyes from the florescent lights of her hallway. I jumped when she kicked my feet apart, but when I saw her face, I remembered why I’d come all this way.
Being in her room felt so right, everything so familiar, even though it wasn’t a place I’d ever been. It was full of her. When I saw the pictures of her and me on her wall, my pulse sped up a bit. And when I saw that damn hat I’d given her—my lame attempt to let her know I still loved her—I knew I still had a shot.

I’ve never been more careful choosing my words than I was for that brief conversation I had with Nolan that night. And I probably should have led with begging for forgiveness from the start, but instead I wanted to make sure she knew that everything was because of me, not her. I wanted the blame, all of it.

And with that one small word from her breath, yes, I knew I was done. The sensation of her lips on mine was an addiction. The miles on my Jeep read 93,728, and all but 3,000 of those miles were treaded by my many drives from Tucson up to Phoenix, just to see the girl who rules my world. I knew she was worried when I first came to surprise her at her dorm room two years ago and begged her to give me one more chance. But I made a promise to her then, and I had every intention of keeping it.

I wanted her to know that she could count on me being there to greet her as soon as her classes were done on Thursday afternoons. I didn’t give a shit that it meant I had to turn around and drive the same miles back to campus for light practices on Fridays and games on Saturdays—sometimes making several trips each week just to see her. And when games were done, I spent my nights with her, holding her close, and letting her call all the shots.
My freshman year, I took a lot of shit from the guys on the football team, who all expected me to head to the bars with them every night and rule the parties on fraternity row. But I wouldn’t go unless Nolan was with me. Sometimes she would, and I spent most of those nights making sure strangers didn’t try to ply her with liquor or hit on her.

She finally convinced me to go alone once, about halfway through our freshman season. She was stuck at ASU, working late on a midterm psychology paper, and couldn’t make it for our game against Stanford. We were serious underdogs, but managed to pull out a win, and there was no getting around celebrating. The entire UofA campus was teeming with energy, and it was the first time in months I let myself get a little loaded. I drunk-dialed her that night—several times, so I was told. I was so sure I said something stupid, but she assured me I was nothing but sweet and romantic. I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself, but she didn’t tease.

I was careful not to drink too much now. That was another vow I made when I left home for college and signed to play for the Wildcats. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a college guy, and I can chug with the best of them. But I try not to let it get stupid, and usually Noles is there to keep me in line or tell me when it’s time to go home.

I wasn’t going to be my brother; I wouldn’t be the asshole. Being the asshole was the easy way out. And I was fine with things not being easy. Jason was quickly becoming a business big-shot with our father’s company. He was good at business, sales and working a room full of important people into doing exactly what he wanted. People always wanted Jason to like them, even as adults. It stunned me that they couldn’t see through his bullshit, but I guess, deep down, most of us want to be liked by the in crowd, even if the guy at the head of the table was a massive dick.

Now that Nolan and I were juniors, it was harder to sync our schedules. Nolan’s schedule was pretty full. She was taking 21 hours to make sure she could graduate in four years with her specialty. And I was seriously considering entering the draft after this season. Our Rose Bowl win, and number four finish last year, put me in a pretty good position to be a top pick, and we were already ranked pretty high heading into this season. I didn’t want to lose my chance to do this for a living. I loved the game, almost as much as I loved Nolan. But that’s what made it all so damned hard. I knew I could end up on the other end of the country, and the thought of spending a year away from her tore up my insides.

We talked about it a few times, but Nolan always shut down. She was a planner, and when I brought up the possibility of her transferring, or doing her student teaching somewhere else, she just nodded and said she’d think about it. But it was the kind of nod that I knew meant she really wouldn’t, and was instead hoping the possibility would just go away.

I didn’t have to make my decision yet. But come December, I needed to have a pretty good idea of where I was headed. I had four months to work on her, but the whole thing was just making my stomach sick. And the fucking ring in my pocket was just making my stress shoot through the roof.

I wasn’t going to ask her today. I probably wouldn’t ask her this year. But I knew I’d ask her, and I just wanted to be ready. I had most of the day off and stopped by the house to talk to dad on my way up to see Nolan. He loved her like a daughter already, and when I brought up the idea of one day making her a permanent part of the family, he hugged me so hard that my feet left the ground. I didn’t expect him to give me Grandma’s ring; I just wanted his help picking something out. So when he disappeared upstairs, and came back down with the antique box, I knew I was making the right decision.

I shoved the stress back down in my body and reminded myself to stay in control the second I saw my girl round the corner of her building—just like she did every Thursday afternoon. She was looking for me, her heavy bag slumping down her shoulder and her hair knotted up on top of her head. Damn she was beautiful. And I was so lucky.

I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted you all to have a small taste of Cody and "Blindness." Book release coming in February!



Synopsis:

Blindness
A novel by Ginger Scott

It takes a while to know who you really are. And when you lose your way, sometimes it’s hard to find it again.

Charlie Hudson was on the verge of figuring that out when her dad—the only parent and friend she ever had—died suddenly. She was barely 18, and she was alone. So she went for easy—playing life safe, running away from a home that harbored nothing but bad memories and challenges and loving a man who would take her away from it all forever.

It’s funny how chance takes over when you need it most. And that’s exactly what brought Cody Carmichael into her life. A former motocross super star, Cody was now happy to be living the blue collar life, spending his days finishing up school and his nights under the hood of some classic car, just trying to keep everything his father taught him alive. Cody and Charlie were living parallel lives, until they finally collided. And the moment he smiled at her, Charlie knew he was the one who would change everything. But was she willing to take the risk?

Cody saw through it all. He saw her—all of her. But would letting him in be too much to take? And if Charlie let herself love him—really love him—could he love her back?

Teaser:

Cody is still next to me, his grip on my hand once again strong, but his body is stiff. I’m rewinding mentally, realizing just how far I went. Shit! I said way too much! I don’t even know what I’m doing here. This all suddenly feels way too intimate—wrong. My pulse is speeding up the more I think about what Trevor would think if he saw me, saw this—saw us!

I slide the pillow from my chest to the side and work my fingers until they’re out of Cody’s grip. He remains next to me, but isn’t moving. I’m pretty sure I just made him feel unwelcome in his own bed, the awkwardness creeping in now and almost choking me. I have to leave, leave this bed and then leave this room. I’ll be calm until I shut his door, and then I’m running.

Yes, that’s it. I’ll run.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I just unloaded, like, way too much on you. I’m…I’m just going to go,” I say, pushing myself up to sit at the side of the bed and slip on my shoes. The light is dim, but I can tell that Cody’s eyes have shifted to me. He’s still not moving or speaking, and I don’t really want him to. I just want to get out of his room without him saying a word.

“Thank you, truly,” I say as I stand and look once more at the ceiling. “The stars? They’re amazing,” my voice wavers, and I turn and walk to his door. I’m gripping the handle, willing myself to keep it together for just a few more seconds until I’m out of his view, when I feel his body behind me and see his hand flat against the door.

His breath against my neck raises every hair on my body. I’m looking intently at his fingers splayed out on the wood paneling of the door in front of me, my hands still gripping the door handle. Beyond this door, my life continues on one path—a path I know. A path I love. But I’m stalled, considering what happens if I stay in this room. I’m paralyzed. Fear. Indecision.

“Cody, I…” I start, but don’t know how to finish.

“Just stay,” he says, his voice barely audible, and the air released from his words sends more chills around my neck and down my entire body.

“Just…” I hear him swallow, and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s struggling. I keep my eyes forward and watch his fingers curl into a fist on the door, clinching tightly. “I won’t…I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I’m not asking you to do anything. Please…please just stay,” his head falling flat against the back of mine as he speaks. I can feel him breathe me in, and I feel like I’m racing down a hill, lightheaded from the conflict brewing inside.

“Okay,” I whisper, not even aware that it was me speaking. I’m on autopilot, turning away from the path I know and recognize on the other side of the door, but desperately worried that it won’t be there when I finally leave this room.

Cody’s hand slides from the door to my shoulder, and I shiver as he traces the back of his fingers down the length of my arm until he finds my hand once again. He pulls me to him, forcing me to turn into his body. I keep my eyes focused on the words on his shirt, reading the dates and towns to myself. Some tour shirt—a concert, perhaps? Or maybe a race? I’m trying to keep my mind busy with this pointless task when Cody reaches for my chin and pulls my face to look at his.

His eyes are serious. Even in the darkness of his room, I can see the flecks of blue—I’m that close. I watch them as they move to the side of my face to follow his hand as he pushes my hair away from my face slowly, tucking it behind my ear but leaving it there, his fingers tangled deep within my hair. He tilts his head to the side, and I think for a moment that he’s about to kiss me. I lick my lips on instinct, and I feel him tense up from it.

His hand forces me forward into him and I close my eyes, almost believing that if I don’t see it coming I won’t be able to stop it. I feel his chest press to mine next, then his hand wraps deeper into my hair so he’s cradling the back of my head. His other hand slides up my side to the middle of my back, and his chin comes down above my head so I’m completely tucked within his embrace. I’m sheltered, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt my heart actually stop from being in someone’s arms.

Giving in, I bring my hands up Cody’s back so I’m hugging him tightly to me, my fingers gripping at his torn T-shirt. I slide my face flat against him and let out everything I’ve been holding in—it feels like for years.

It's weeks away, but there's time for one more "Blindness" teaser! Just making final edits and doing the last reads. Here's one more glimpse inside:

Cody wraps his hand around his mug and looks at it a good long while before he lifts it to his lips and takes a loud slurping sip, like a kid with hot cocoa. The sound makes me laugh, and he winks at me, his cheeks wrinkling with his smile—it’s back, and it’s heavenly.

After another minute of looking at his cup, Cody sets it down and pushes it away. I’m staring at him now, and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop. He’s wearing a clean white T-shirt, but last night’s jeans—I recognize them. His hands, his face, his hair— he’s a mess, every bit of his rough night worn on his body. But it has my guts twisting, my insides aching. And deep down I know the way I’m looking at him is about being more than friends. But I squeeze my eyes tight to wring out those thoughts and force myself to remember that that’s all we are. We’re friends.

“I think you owe me some change,” he says, his voice a little scratchy. He coughs to clear his throat, and I lean forward on my elbow, raising a brow to question him. “The coffee? There’s no way I’m making it to the two-for-one deal. It’s pretty much the worst shit I’ve ever had.”

He busts out laughing mid sentence, unable to keep a straight face. I start to laugh, too, knowing I really have no idea how to brew coffee. I only started drinking it in college—and I usually buy my cup at Starbucks. I smile at him and shake my head, instinctively reaching forward to touch him. I push his arm with a tease, and he stops it before I can pull away, grabbing my fingers and wrapping them in his own. Suddenly, he’s holding my hand. He’s holding my hand!

I let him and watch as his fingers slowly lock into place with mine, the twists of ink and words along them like black keys on a piano against my pale skin. I steal a glance at him to see his eyes intent on our tangled hands, his gaze soft, but guarded. He’s being so careful. My mind is betraying everything I’m fighting to hold onto with visions of his mouth on mine, my lips tingling at the thought of kissing him, tasting him.


...And you'll have to wait just a little longer for the rest;-)

I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but this book has my heart and soul. I’m on pins and needles for release day. So, sharing this is just as much for me as it is for you! I hope you enjoy the prologue and first chapter–enough to want to read the entire book when it comes out July 8! And remember, the first week of royalties go to the Southwest Autism Research and Resource Center.

Check it out now on my site at www.littlemisswrite.com.

THIS IS FALLING is almost here! I think this is a story that those of you who read Waiting on the Sidelines are really going to enjoy. It falls somewhere in between. It's that first year of college, where everything is new and different and scary and wonderful all at the same time. THIS IS FALLING captures that; at least, I hope it does. And then it takes another step, adding the layers of life, love, fear and heartbreak into the mix. I'm tremendously excited for everyone to read it, and hope you will enjoy this first little taste.

I've posted the first chapter on my website here: www.littlemisswrite.com/chapter/. In the first chapter, you get to meet Rowe. But Nate, he's coming. In fact, I'll let you meet him next week…when I post chapter 2!

Thank you all for being such amazing readers. I will do my damnedest to deliver stories you deserve.

All my best,
Ginger

When I was a freshman in high school, I had a boyfriend. I know, I know…that's a really bland statement, but hang with me here. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the boyfriend. Nice guy, grew up to be a great human being. Anyhow, this post isn't really about the boyfriend.

My boyfriend had a best friend, and this best friend had a girlfriend, too. She and I…we did not run in the same circles. Not that we were enemies or anything. Our paths just didn't really cross. I was the band, sports, get good grades sort. She was more in the "I get invited to the parties with the cool older kids" crowd. Quite frankly, we didn't know much of each other at all.

Anyhow, one day during lunch, my boyfriend told me that he was mad at her. I asked him why, and he said that he didn't like what she said about me.

My stomach hurt hearing this, but I kept the calm exterior on my face and asked what she said.

"She said you were boring," he said.

Boring. Huh. Truthfully, it could have been a lot worse. But boring. Boring. I ruminated on this for a while, not quite sure how I felt about it.

My boyfriend went on, saying that she said she didn't understand why he liked me, because I was "boring, and didn't really have anything special."

Yeah, okay. That next part stung. Humor, my defense mechanism, even as a young teen, kicked in. I told him I would get right on sky diving and feeling G-force in an F-16 from Luke Air Force Base. He laughed and walked me to class.

I'm fairly positive that this "boring" thing left his mind the second fifth period began. And I'm pretty sure that the idea of me being boring was gone from the mind of the girl who said those words about me moments after she uttered them. They were speed bumps for them, filler for their day, so absolutely inconsequential that I can almost guarantee if I were to bring it up at a reunion (oh god, believe me, I won't), they would look at me like I'm nuts.

But for me…for me, this little speed bump left a mark. I don't think about it often, and sometimes years go by without even recalling this little adolescent blip on my lifeline. But it's there, and I can close my eyes and hear the conversation so vividly that I could convince myself I were actually in that moment. A girl, who I didn't even really know, called me boring--and I know there are a lot worse things people can call me--but damn did this little nothing ever make me feel bad.

Why am I thinking about this? Well, there are probably a few reasons. Firstly, I have seen a lot of bullying lately--the cyber kind and beyond--and it just gives me a funny taste. I wish like hell I were bigger, braver, stronger (basically, I want to be a Kanye song), so I could insert myself and hold up a hand to make it stop. It's something I'm working on. But until then, maybe just heed my little plea that we all try to be nicer to one another, or at least demonstrate respect.

And then there's that other thing that has my head spinning. This Is Falling comes out in hours…literally hours. And like my four previous releases, I am so anxious, excited and…did I mention anxious? I think I could throw up. But release day always makes me sit on the edge of my seat because my god…you amazing readers. You have no idea how overjoyed and happy you make me, to know that my stories have a home in your hands, on your kindles, in your nooks. And there probably is a little piece of me (okay, there is definitely a piece of me) that sort of grins at the girl who once labeled me so easily, and it's because of you.

Writing stories like these, this is all I ever wanted out of life. And you will never know how grateful I am that you make it possible. And yeah, that 14-year-old is probably still buried inside of me, also wanting to be liked. But she sure as hell doesn't think she's boring. So thank you for that gift. And truly, I hope you enjoy Falling. I put my heart and soul into it and will promise you to always give nothing less.