Unconventional

by Isabel Love

  Serena McDonald, thank you so much for all of your help. You’re so passionate about books and supporting the authors you love and I’m honored to be among them. Thank you for helping with my reader group and inspiring me to learn how to post hot GIF’s.

  Thank you to all the bloggers that helped to promote this book. You are rock stars!! I know there are so many amazing authors and wonderful books out there. Thank you for taking a chance on a new author and blogging about my book. To those of you that signed up for an ARC and reviewed my book, thank you so much!

  Najla Qamber, thank you for being so patient with me during the cover making process. I know I drove you nuts creating this cover, changing my mind a million times, but I’m so happy with the end result. The cover and teasers are PERFECT for Charlie and Quinn’s story, thank you so much for working with me!!

  Caitlin with Editing by C. Marie, you smooth me out in the most wonderful ways. I’m so grateful to have an editor who doesn’t change my voice, just helps me say what I want to say in a much cleaner, more grammatically correct way. Thank you for working with me.

  Bex at editing.ninja, thank you so much for proofreading! I always think I caught every mistake before I send it to you, but you prove me wrong!! Thank you so much for helping to polish up my baby!!

  Julia at Jersey Girl Co, thank you for formatting my book. Formatting is that final step that completes the package, giving it a polished and professional feel. You are so talented!!

  I’m so grateful to everyone that helped me with this book!!

  Join my reader group, Bella’s Babes, to talk more about my books, get bonus content and be the first to know about my upcoming projects. Warning: we talk about dirty books, post pictures and GIF’s of hot guys and I occasionally ask invasive questions. Come join the fun, I’d love to get to know you!

  If you like Tumblr as much as Charlie and Quinn do, I made a page in honor of this book. Warning: it is highly NSFW and contains explicit, naughty, hot AF sexiness!! If you want to see some of the GIF’s and pictures that make me think of Charlie and Quinn, check it out here.

  Isabel Love is a hopeless romantic. She loves reading books that are sweet and dirty and everything in between. A husband, two kids, and a full-time job keep her busy by day, but by night, she can be found with her Kindle in hand, reading “just one more chapter.”

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  Untouchable

  Unforgivable – coming soon!

  (Read on for excerpts!)

  An Excerpt from Unforgivable by Isabel Love

  There are two sides to every story. You heard Charlie’s side in Unconventional. Read on for an excerpt of Anna’s side. Unforgivable is coming next!!

  *Unedited and Subject to Change*

  Copyright © 2017 by Isabel Love

  Prologue

  Anna

  16 years old (10 years ago)

  Positive? What? This has to be a mistake.

  My fingers shake as I open the next box and follow the instructions again.

  Still positive.

  This can’t be happening. Nausea swirls in my belly and my lunch threatens to make an unwelcome reappearance.

  One more time, I take out the pregnancy test, dunk it in the plastic cup I peed in and wait the required three minutes.

  Positive. All three test strips have a pink plus sign displayed in the window, staring at me.

  I hear my mom’s voice in my head. “You’re far too young to have such a serious boyfriend, Anna. Please be careful. Getting pregnant would ruin your dreams.”

  But we were careful. Charlie used a condom every. Single. Time. He promised he would take care of me. We have it all planned out. We’re going to go to college in Columbus so that I can go to Ohio State for their pre-med program and he can go to Columbus College of Art and Design. Then, I’ll continue on to medical school and he’ll start building his photography portfolio. Once I’m a full-fledged obstetrician and he has a graphic design firm, we’ll get married and have four kids. That’s our plan.

  But now that’s all going to change. Because I’m pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  Being 16 and pregnant is not a part of our master plan.

  These thoughts float around in my brain, but I can’t comprehend them. I feel my stomach for any bump or difference, but it’s still the same. Of course, my period is only one week late, so I can’t be very far along.

  But still. How will I finish my junior year of high school pregnant? How can I go to college with a baby? Med school? Residency? Fellowship? How can I do any of it with a baby to take care of?

  The nausea is back, but worse than before. Saliva pools in my mouth and I know I’m about to vomit. I lift up the lid of the toilet seat just in time. My stomach clenches and I wretch over and over again. My throat is on fire and my nostrils burn. The acrid smell of vomit makes my eyes burn. Shit, I hate throwing up.

  Even when my stomach is empty, I continue to heave. When they finally subside, I flush the toilet and stand on shaky legs. I brush my teeth to rid my mouth of the disgusting aftertaste and splash cold water on my face, just as my cell pings with a text message.

  Charlie: Be there in 5. I got your favorite soup.

  I close my eyes and try to hold back tears. How am I going to tell him? He thinks I stayed home from school today because I have the flu. And caring boyfriend that he is, he left school to bring me soup.

  Without wasting another minute, I gather up the pregnancy tests and put them back in the grocery bag they came in. I stow them under the sink and rush back to my bedroom. My heart is beating a mile a minute as I get under the covers and pretend to be asleep.

  Minutes later, my bedroom door creaks open.

  “Anna?” Charlie whispers as his footsteps approach the bed.

  I keep my breathing as slow and even as I can. I hear him slip off his shoes, pull the covers up and the mattress dips as he slides into my bed. His warm body presses up behind me and he smooths my hair back. Needing his comfort, I turn towards him and burrow my face into his chest, absorbing his warmth. He smells of woods and spice, and I breathe him in to fill up on his familiar scent.

  “Hey, Sweets. You doing okay? You feel warm.” He kisses my forehead tenderly.

  I can’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I just wrap my arms around his waist and hold on.

  “You poor thing. I’m so sorry you’re sick, but I’ll take care of you,” he tells me. This makes me want to cry even more. “What do you want first? Soup or a sponge bath?”

  Despite my inner turmoil, I chuckle. Leave it to Charlie to offer a sponge bath when I’m sick.

  He hears me huff and assumes that is my response. “Okay, soup it is. Good idea, this way it doesn’t get cold. Soup first, then sponge bath.”

  When I don’t move to get up, he pulls back and reaches for my chin. He tilts my face up towards him and studies me. Even though it’s dark in here, I can see his blonde hair all messed up from his hands running through it, his ocean blue eyes twinkling with mischief and his perfect lips, smiling at me just enough to make those dimples pop. As he takes me in, his smile fades and concern takes over, a wrinkle forming in between his eyes as he studies me. “What’s wrong, Sweets? You look sad.”

  I try to find the words to tell him that I’m pregnant. That I’ll likely have to drop out of high school. That our dreams can’t become a reality.

  Instead I tell him, “I love you.”

  His smile is the sun, beaming down at me. His eyes shine with such love and devotion, it makes my stomach somersault.

  “I love you, too. So much. I’m going to make you so happy, Anna. I was thinking about our house. What do you say we have a hot tub in the backyard?”

  We do this all the time - plan what we’re going to have in our house. What colors will go on the walls. Every month or two it completely changes, but we love to go back and forth telling each other what we want our
home to be like.

  Thoughts of our future house make the nausea return. Because who knows if we can ever make our dream house a reality? What kind of future will Charlie have when his baby mama is making minimum wage as a cashier at the grocery store?

  What kind of future will this baby have with two teenage parents?

  I close my eyes and swallow thickly, nodding at Charlie’s suggestion of a hot tub. Tears fall down my face despite my best efforts to hold them back.

  “Hey. Talk to me.” He pulls back to look at my face, noticing my tears. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  The words get stuck in my throat and shrug.

  He sees my hesitation and grows more concerned. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  I nod, knowing I need to spit it out.

  Instead I say, “I’m scared.” This much is true. I’m scared out of my mind right now.

  “Of what?”

  “I want it all so badly. What if we can’t make it happen?”

  “We will do whatever it takes to make it happen. I’d climb mountains for you, Anna.”

  “But what if I can’t climb? What if I fall?”

  “Then I’ll carry you.” His words fill me with hope. And then dread. Because while he has the strength to carry me, my current situation will only drag him down. I’ll be a ball and chain, preventing him from accomplishing his dreams. He’ll give it all up for me, I know. I just don’t want to be the reason he has to. I don’t want him to resent me.

  Whatever it takes.

  I’d do anything for him, too; anything to make our dreams come true.

  I think I know what to do.

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  An Excerpt from Untouchable by Isabel Love

  Copyright © 2017 by Isabel Love

  Did you read Max and Monica’s story?

  “What’s your name?” he asks me.

  “Can we just dance?” I deflect. I’m not looking to start anything; an anonymous dance is all I want tonight. I’m never going to see this guy again, so exchanging names and getting to know each other is pointless.

  He nods, not put off by my refusal to tell him my name. His blue eyes stare into mine, and I am hypnotized. His intense gaze sets my body on fire, and his lips—God, they’re full. As he bites his lower lip, I get the urge to bite it, too. I watch those lips curve into a knowing, sexy grin then my gaze moves from his mouth to his eyes and I feel myself flush. Electricity sparks hot between us, and my body feels like a live wire.

  His big hands splay across my back and he leans down to talk directly into my ear. “Can I kiss you?”

  I nod and lean up to meet his mouth with mine. Soft—his lips are so soft. His fingers thread into my hair and he pulls me even closer. My eyes flutter shut and I’m lost, my world reduced to the feel of his lips pressing into mine, gently at first, then hungrily.

  His tongue licks against my lips and I open my mouth, our tongues tangling. My fingers find their way up his neck and I allow myself to touch his face. Mmmm, his stubble is soft. God, everything about this guy feels good. We kiss and kiss and I feel boneless, breathless. I’m clutching at him and he’s gripping me tightly. It’s like his mouth is a magnet pulling me to him.

  He makes me forget that we’re in a crowded club. That I’m a respectable physician in charge of a department. That I don’t need a man to be happy. That I usually feel as if I’m juggling a million pieces in the air every day and if I don’t stay on top of everything, all the pieces will come tumbling down. I forget everything; his kiss melts it all away.

  Instead, I feel….alive. Surrounded by this strong man, in his arms, practically fused to his mouth, I feel…safe. Electric and desired. Judging by the size of the erection rubbing my stomach from behind his jeans, he is as turned on as I am. We grind into each other, and his heart beats so fast I can feel it thump against my chest.

  Soon enough, our bodies start to move in a way that mimics sex. His hands skim down my body, from my hips to my bare legs. His touch is hot, waking up each of the nerve endings in its path. He squeezes my thighs then starts trailing his fingers up again, feeling my bare skin. Up and up, his fingers reach the hem of my dress, and he inches it higher, exposing more skin. Both of his hands end up just under my ass, touching the elastic of my underwear.

  Oh, God. I’m so wet. Just one inch farther and he’ll be able to feel what he’s doing to me. I feel his groan rather than hear it, the vibration in his throat a pained sound. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, hands still touching me, toying with the edges of my panties.

  “Can I touch you?” he rasps into my ear.

  I should push him away. I should be appalled that a total stranger wants to feel me up in the middle of a crowded dance floor. I should disentangle myself from him right now and leave.

  But I don’t want to.

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  An Excerpt from The Unrequited by Saffron A Kent

  Copyright © 2017 by Saffron A Kent

  I’m hit by a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body, and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the blame for it later.

  I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.

  It’s not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.

  Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.

  “Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.

  He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”

  He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”

  Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.

  “H-How?” I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.

  For a second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”

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