Ginger Scott's Blog - Posts Tagged "waiting-on-the-sidelines-2"
Second Teaser - First Two Pages of 'Going Long' - Sequel to 'Waiting on the Sidelines'
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.
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.
Fun Facts, General Blathering and So Forth
I've been trying to start a new post for a few days now, but my mind seems to be wandering in all different directions. So...I give in. There's not a clear theme to this one, just a bunch of collective thoughts, fun stuffs and more about this journey I've been on.
Firstly, why is my mind wandering? Well...I promised to continue to document my indie author process and experience, and part of that is dividing yourself into a million little pieces so you can do a million little missions. I've been marketing like crazy--meeting some amazing bloggers, beta readers, reviewers and just good ole fashioned great people who love to read YA/NA romance. Before I forget to say thank you: "Thank You!" to those of you who have been so amazingly wonderful to work with, who have given up some of your reading pie to take a slice of Waiting on the Sidelines and Going Long (which releases officially Oct. 1) and who have shared your thoughts (so very kind thoughts) on the book with me and your friends. You've been the gas to keep my indie author road trip plugging along.
As for the missions? There are many. I've been advertising, sending personal emails, reaching out to bloggers, holding my breath, taking the bumps along with the praise, and then waiting. Mostly, the waiting has been the exciting part. Going Long goes live very soon (I can hardly wait). Some of you may notice it showing up early...I hate being late, so I tend to aim for early.
Now, imagine a great transition here so I can start an entirely new subject (I warned you, I'm all over the place). I thought it would be fun to throw a few fun tidbits in here about WoTS and Going Long. Let's start with football. I'm a HUGE fan. A fan of all sports, really, but I know my football. When I was about 12, I was watching the Niners play the Cowboys, and I made comment to my brother about Montana not getting enough time in the pocket, and he just smiled and told me that someday I was going to make some guy very happy. My husband would agree--I'm very helpful in picking his fantasy team (may I point out mine is doing pretty damn well, too). Anyhow, back to my point, I take my football seriously. You'll notice that the match-ups in Going Long and any reference to the BCS play-off system and rankings are pretty darn accurate (the Big Ten plays the Pac 12 in the Rose Bowl). But, given that I'm a Sun Devil and bleed maroon and gold, making the Wildcats a top-ranked team was really tough to do. We have a joke in our house that the only way the Wildcats could have a great football team is in fiction. (It's funny if you're a Sun Devil, trust me.)
Lastly, let me leave you with a little tease. I'm writing again (my favorite part of this whole thing). It's an entirely new story -- a new-adult romance full of lots of heartbreak, hope and swoon. So far, I'm pretty in love with the new guy. But I'll always have a soft spot for the old one -- Reed. I'd love to hear from his other fans out there, so please feel free to 'friend me' here or drop me a line on email. I love hearing from you. And thank you for reading. You have given me so much, and I love you all.
Firstly, why is my mind wandering? Well...I promised to continue to document my indie author process and experience, and part of that is dividing yourself into a million little pieces so you can do a million little missions. I've been marketing like crazy--meeting some amazing bloggers, beta readers, reviewers and just good ole fashioned great people who love to read YA/NA romance. Before I forget to say thank you: "Thank You!" to those of you who have been so amazingly wonderful to work with, who have given up some of your reading pie to take a slice of Waiting on the Sidelines and Going Long (which releases officially Oct. 1) and who have shared your thoughts (so very kind thoughts) on the book with me and your friends. You've been the gas to keep my indie author road trip plugging along.
As for the missions? There are many. I've been advertising, sending personal emails, reaching out to bloggers, holding my breath, taking the bumps along with the praise, and then waiting. Mostly, the waiting has been the exciting part. Going Long goes live very soon (I can hardly wait). Some of you may notice it showing up early...I hate being late, so I tend to aim for early.
Now, imagine a great transition here so I can start an entirely new subject (I warned you, I'm all over the place). I thought it would be fun to throw a few fun tidbits in here about WoTS and Going Long. Let's start with football. I'm a HUGE fan. A fan of all sports, really, but I know my football. When I was about 12, I was watching the Niners play the Cowboys, and I made comment to my brother about Montana not getting enough time in the pocket, and he just smiled and told me that someday I was going to make some guy very happy. My husband would agree--I'm very helpful in picking his fantasy team (may I point out mine is doing pretty damn well, too). Anyhow, back to my point, I take my football seriously. You'll notice that the match-ups in Going Long and any reference to the BCS play-off system and rankings are pretty darn accurate (the Big Ten plays the Pac 12 in the Rose Bowl). But, given that I'm a Sun Devil and bleed maroon and gold, making the Wildcats a top-ranked team was really tough to do. We have a joke in our house that the only way the Wildcats could have a great football team is in fiction. (It's funny if you're a Sun Devil, trust me.)
Lastly, let me leave you with a little tease. I'm writing again (my favorite part of this whole thing). It's an entirely new story -- a new-adult romance full of lots of heartbreak, hope and swoon. So far, I'm pretty in love with the new guy. But I'll always have a soft spot for the old one -- Reed. I'd love to hear from his other fans out there, so please feel free to 'friend me' here or drop me a line on email. I love hearing from you. And thank you for reading. You have given me so much, and I love you all.
