Because
Ilsa Madden-Mills fell in love with her beautifully flawed characters in Very Wicked Things, she penned Very Wicked Beginnings as a prequel
novella to the book, featuring the story of football star Cuba Hudson and
ballerina Dovey Beckham.
Since
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, all May proceeds from the sale of the
novella will be donated to The
Keith Milano Memorial Fund which benefits the American Foundation for Suicide
Prevention (AFSP). www.afsp.org
Very Wicked Beginnings
Briarcrest Academy #1.5
(A prequel novella to Very Wicked Things)
Release: Both books will release on May 13th!
Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills
Cover: Photography by Toski Covey
Graphics: Sommer Stein at Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Model: Tanner Belcher
Synopsis
Girls
say I’m a walking, talking sex god.
Guys call me Hollywood because my life is golden.
It’s
not.
But,
ESPN did rank me as a four star recruit, calling me one of the best defensive
players since Briarcrest Academy opened its esteemed doors. So yeah, with
football and a stellar
GPA, my future
seemed good.
Then
Dovey Beckham shows up in her short skirts and ballet shoes. Driving me insane.
Making me want to beg for her attention.
But
that wouldn’t happen, because Cuba Hudson didn’t beg for anything.
She
walked around BA like she owned the place, and most days she looked right
through me…the one girl I couldn’t have.
So,
of course, I made it my mission to claim her, to put her notch on my bedpost.
Because
no girl can resist the Heartbreaker
of BA.
But
I never planned on destroying her.
I
never planned on wrecking the one thing that could save me.
Welcome
to Briarcrest Academy, where wicked
love begins…and ends.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Chapter One
“Two things about me: I play
football—and girls.” –Cuba
Hudson
I wanted
the gorgeous girl in the window.
More
specifically, I wanted the dark-haired girl dancing inside the Symthe Arts
Building as I stood outside on the twenty yard line at football practice,
fixated on her when I should have been focused on the line of scrimmage. I
adjusted my helmet and squinted through the afternoon Dallas sun.
Did I know her?
Movement
from other players on the field pulled me back. Good thing. As defensive end,
it was my job to put the screws to or sack the quarterback as soon as the ball
snapped. But I was off today. Probably because I knew I had a shit ton of
homework waiting for me at home. With my dream of being a doctor and getting
into a good school, being on top of my game in class was important as well.
Briarcrest Academy was one of the top-rated private schools in the country,
making expectations here high.
Just like
every eighteen-year-old kid out there, I had stresses.
But I did
have more than the average. I had a sick mom.
But those
thoughts faded when I looked back at the window and watched the girl run and
then leap in the air, her body doing some kind of crazy
in-the-air-leg-split-thing. Damn.
She’d gotten at least four feet off the ground.
Then,
after landing on her feet light as a feather, she danced away from my view. I
waited for her to come back, wanting to check out her toned muscles again,
especially her tight ass. And then I randomly wondered if her tits were small.
Weren’t all dancers? Yeah. But still, she looked—
“Pay
attention, Hudson!” Coach Howe yelled at me.
Fuck.
Caught.
I
automatically stiffened and tightened my defensive stance, running my eyes
across the offensive line, waiting for the play. But the quarterback was
pussy-footing around still undecided if they were gonna run or pass. Whatever.
Matt the Quarterback was a complete jack ass. I ate guys like him for lunch
which wasn’t hard when you’re tall and fast like me.
I got
bored.
Out of my
peripheral vision, I caught a flash of pink dashing past the window.
She was
back.
And like
I was addicted to her, my eyes drifted to the building again, one part baffled
by the fascination, the other part wanting to get another glimpse of her long
legs. As I watched, she adjusted her ponytail as she laughed up at her ballet
partner—who was a dude. Crazzzy.
Yeah, you’d think he’d be all feminine and shit, but he wasn’t. Nope. Dude
looked buff, like he could bench press a school bus.
Something
about the girl called to me. Yeah, it was probably that short skirt she wore. I
pictured slipping my hand underneath it to her panties. Her core would be hot,
on fire for me, of course, and I’d ease my finger inside her wet—
Bam! I took a hard hit from
Tank Carson, an All District offensive guard I routinely ran circles around in
practice. He might be big, but I was quick and smart and had more moves than a
freaking octopus. So the chance to plant my distracted ass on the turf was an
early Christmas present for him. That's what I get for letting some piece of
ass get in my game, even if it was practice.
And so. My unprepared body flew through the air with 290
pounds of Tank on top of it. My head followed my body and hit the turf, the
contact reverberating inside my helmet and then everything went black…
Charity Information:
The
Keith Milano Memorial Fund was established to help raise awareness about the
devastating and deadly disease that is mental illness. Keith’s spirit and
laughter is kept alive through our efforts to increase awareness about mental
illness and to raise money for education and imperative research. Keith often
struggled with society’s perception of mental illness. Our hope is that
by having the strength to say that Keith was “Bipolar” we can strip away the
stigma and help others to be more open about their disease. www.keithmilano.org
The
Keith Milano Memorial Fund benefits the American Foundation for Suicide
Prevention (AFSP). www.afsp.org
AFSP is
the only national not-for-profit organization exclusively dedicated to
understanding and preventing suicide through research and education, and to
reaching out to people with mood disorders and those affected by suicide.
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Ilsa’s
website
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Author
Bio:
Ilsa Madden-Mills
writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want
to slap. She spends her days with two small kids, a neurotic cat, and her
Viking husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own
pretzels. 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 authors.
Very Wicked Things
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