Hello my lovely Tots!! I hope everyone is enjoying the fall so far. We had our first round of rain recently which is crazy cuz it never rains here!
So I am here today to bring you an excerpt from of the latest emotional and amazing reads, Crash by #NeedMoreJudeDude blog tour hosted by the one and only Momo from Books Over Boys! I hope you all enjoy this wonderful excerpt!
by Nicole Williams
Southpointe High is the last place Lucy wanted to wind up her senior year of school. Right up until she stumbles into Jude Ryder, a guy whose name has become its own verb, and synonymous with trouble. He's got a rap sheet that runs longer than a senior thesis, has had his name sighed, shouted, and cursed by more women than Lucy dares to ask, and lives at the local boys home where disturbed seems to be the status quo for the residents. Lucy had a stable at best, quirky at worst, upbringing. She lives for wearing the satin down on her ballet shoes, has her sights set on Juilliard, and has been careful to keep trouble out of her life. Up until now.
Jude's everything she needs to stay away from if she wants to separate her past from her future. Staying away, she's about to find out, is the only thing she's incapable of.
For Lucy Larson and Jude Ryder, love's about to become the thing that tears them apart.
Hearing you had a higher likelihood of being attacked by a komodo dragon (*slight* exaggeration) than making it as a writer, Nicole Williams decided to major in Economics at Whitworth University where she went on to have a "respectable" career in the land of the super-starched white collars. Fast forward to marriage, a baby, and the scintillating life of a stay-at-home-mom, she dusted off her laptop one summer night and churned out a 500 page first draft in eight weeks. The result was a messy house--to put it generously--dinners that were either delivered or microwaved, and Eternal Eden.
A twenty-five year work in progress since her "debut" novel about a circus at the age of three (dictated to her dad who was forward-thinking enough to see a writer-in-the-making), Nicole has finally fulfilled a lifelong goal of publishing a novel, although she's left behind tales of the red and white striped big-top for the juicy, page-turning drama of the YA genre.
In between date nights, play dates, story hours, and attempting (and regularly failing) to channel her inner June Cleaver, she spends her free time writing into the wee hours of the night and *trying* to live by the motto, you miss all the shots you don't take.
Once in the end zone, he spiked the ball and then turned to face the crowd. Everyone was going crazy, like they’d just witnessed the birth of Jesus and the invention of electricity at the same time. Jude was a rock star, their savior, and they were paying him homage.
Not taking a few moments to bask in the glory of the eighty yard run and one thousand people chanting his name, he loped over to the sidelines. Past Coach A, who was still frozen in place, past his players on the sidelines holding up their hands, and then over the cyclone fence in one seamless move.
He didn’t stop until he was sweating and smiling in front of me. “Hey,” he breathed, sliding his helmet off his head. The rain coming in contact with his sweaty forehead was steaming up the air.
“Hey,” I replied, pretending we weren’t the center of everyone’s attention.
“Did you like that little run out there?”
I smiled as he slid his beanie around until it was in just the right spot. It was like some damn security blanket. “It was all right,” I understated, lifting a shoulder.
“All right, huh?” he said, moving closer. In fact, so close our bodies couldn’t have been closer unless we were buck naked. “That was a pretty clever move there, Luce. Volunteering me for the jerk-off team to get back at me for getting you voted an official Southpointe princess,” he said, flicking my crown.
“It was clever, wasn’t it?”
“It was a good one, I’ll give you that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But the hell of it is, Luce, that I never, ever let someone else get the last word in.”
“Please,” I said, making a face. “What are you going to do? Have me suit up and be a back-up kicker?”
“No,” he said, lowering his hands to my hips. My throat ran dry. “I’m going to do something much better than that.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said, watching his eyes swirl silver. “What’s that?”
Lifting me above him, he winked. “This,” he said, lowering me so my lips landed right on his. And whether it was his or mine that started to move first didn’t matter because it was apparent neither were going to finish soon.
Rain. Jude. Me. Kissing.
Stick a fork in me because I was done.
“Mr. Ryder,” a dulled voice cut through the din of noise exploding around us. “Mr. Ryder!”
Jude groaned against my lips, not letting me go when he turned to Coach A.
“Think you’re about done here?” Coach A asked, smirking. “We’ve got a game to win.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be done here, Coach,” he called back, earning a few laughs from the bleachers and making me flush down to my toes.
“In that case, wrap it up and get your ass back out here,” he hollered. “Starting quarterbacks don’t make out with their girlfriends when they’ve got forty points to make up.”
“This one does,” Jude whispered, lifting me up onto my tiptoes and kissing me again. “Wait for me after the game. I’ve got some unfinished business with you.” Setting me down, he pulled the blanket tight around me again before leaping over the fence and jogging back onto the field.
I don’t know how he was able to bound and sprint like that because I couldn’t move. What the hell had just happened? Whatever it was, I wanted to rinse and repeat until I took my dying breath.
“What. The. Hell.”
My sentiments exactly.
Taylor marched up to me, arms crossed, and stare pointed. “Friends, eh?”
“Friendship is a pivotal element of our relationship.” I was still breathless, but at least I could form words like pivotal.
“Yeah, but not the defining element. Obviously.” For whatever reason, Taylor seemed pissed. I guess she was going to revoke my pom-pom privileges.
“Oh?” I was back to one syllable responses.
“Jude Ryder just kissed you in front of a gazillion people and he didn’t dispute it when Couch Arcadia called you his girlfriend.”
Now that the aftereffects of the kiss were wearing off, I could form and think a logical string of thoughts, and what Taylor was saying was true. Jude might as well have posted our make out moment to the internet for the number of people that had and would see it, and he’d barely flinched when Coach A used the “G” word.
“I’m his girlfriend?” It was meant to be a question to myself, but Taylor couldn’t let it go unanswered.
“You’re the first,” she said, looking at me like I was a puzzle. “You lucky bitch.”