Looking for a great new New Adult book? Read on for an exclusive excerpt of TEACHING ROMAN!
by Gennifer Albin
Jessica Stone has her life in perfect order until her perfectly boring boyfriend Brett puts things in perspective. So when she receives a call to action from her heartbroken best friend Cassie, she ditches her plans for Winter Break in gloomy Olympic Falls and sets off to Mexico for some fun in the sun.
Determined to use her oceanview to prep for her MCATS, she doesn’t plan to run into anyone from Olympic State, least of all the cute communications prof she’s been crushing on for a year. When he unexpectedly saves the day, the two are thrown together in a distinctly extracurricular activity.
Roman Markson doesn’t expect to run into anyone he knows from Olympic Falls while visiting his family in Puerto Vallarta, especially not a former student. Although Jess Stone has a way of catching men’s attention, a relationship with her is strictly off-limits. However, the rules feel less strict in Mexico, so they agree to a plan: one week in paradise and nothing more.
But avoiding each other back on campus is harder than they anticipated, especially when they can’t stay away from one another. Neither is sure what they have to learn—and lose—before life teaches them a lesson they’ll never forget.
So now I was here, avoiding reason number two for running off to Mexico, aka Brett, and searching the departure gate for a broken-hearted Cassie. A sweep of the waiting area turned up nothing, so I started scouting the nearby restaurants. I found her two-margaritas-down at the Mile High Club.
“You should slow down,” I warned her, parking my carry-on within eye-sight. I sank down on the wobbly barstool next to her and braced myself against the slick bar.
“It’s a four-hour flight,” she said, her southern drawl oozing tequila. Booze always brought out the Texan in her. “I’ll sleep like a baby.”
“A drunk baby,” I said with a snort.
“Imagine how peaceful that would be,” she argued.
The bartender appeared and dropped a napkin in front of me. “Can I get you something?”
“Two waters and the check,” I said. Beside me, Cassie pouted. Her pout was a work of art, but I’d grown immune to it after three years at Olympic State. As soon as she realized it wasn’t going to work, she switched tactics.
“Jess, this is no way to start your vacation.”
“I just thought we could save the alcohol poisoning for the beach.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “I just deleted his phone number.”
I had to admit that was major, especially for Cassie who treated her iPhone like a modern Rolodex. “Good for you.”
“You doing okay?” she asked. “How did it go?”
Suddenly a drink seemed like a good idea. My decision to go to Mexico had not gone over well with Brett. He’d forced me to give him an answer, and it wasn’t the one he was expecting. “We broke up.”
Cassie’s mouth fell open, but she recovered immediately and threw her arms around me.
I accepted it awkwardly. I couldn’t tell Cassie why I’d broken up with him. She was too raw to hear about his marriage proposal.
“Fuck them.” Cassie balled up her fist and held it out for me to knock with my own. Our own gesture of girl power. I had to hand it to her. She was holding together pretty well. Of course, that could also be the tequila. “I need a new screensaver,” she announced.
She pulled out her iPhone and held it out in front of us as I leaned in for the obligatory selfie. A few seconds later she flashed the screen at me. Beside her olive skin and raven hair, I looked more pale and blonde than ever.
“We’re going to get you some goddamn sun,” she said with a sigh.
I wasn’t the type that tanned, and Cassie knew it. “Good, I’ll look like a lobster.”
“I’ll look like caramel,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I’m not sure how I feel about us both being edible.”
Two waters appeared before us without a word from the bartender and I threw down my AmEx on the counter as Cassie lifted her glass and clinked it against mine. “To sand, tequila, and bad decisions in the making.”
Against my better judgment, I raised my glass. Cassie propped her chin on my shoulder.
“Is that Markson?” she whispered in my ear.
Her timing was impeccable, because I was taking a sip of water, which wound up spluttered across my chin and chest. She was right. Roman Markson, communications prof and undeniable hottie, was here. At the airport. In the Mile High Club. Right now. I couldn’t quite ignore the burst of excitement that jolted through me and landed in my treasure chest.
“If he didn’t see you before,” she continued with a giggle, “he has now.”
I like coffee. A lot. Writing gives me time to go get a cup without my kids. I like books as much as I like coffee, but it is easier to read with children hanging on you than drink coffee due to the threat of third degree burns. That’s why coffee gets top billing in my intro: its unattainability.
I hold a Masters in English with a specialization in 18th century women’s studies. While this is a highly marketable area of expertise, I stay home with my kids, which means my 3 year-old son uses correct grammar and doesn’t burn down the house.
I have a ridiculously supportive husband who dreams of being included on a book jacket: “The author lives in Kansas with her husband, two children, and a Tuesday cat.”
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