In the Eyes of an Angel by Kimberly Livingston – Blog Tour

Iteoaabt

New Adult is a fairly new fiction ‘genre’ and one that is growing in popularity. Moving on from young adult which explores the lives of teenagers to seeing the lives of young people at university and starting work, and with more adult relationship content. Please find below an extract from chapter one of contemporary romance new adult novel In the Eyes of an Angel by Kimberly Livingston, and check out the other stops on the blog tour to find out more.

Synopsis

Camille Ryan is in her final year at Southern State University. Working as a bartender in a local establishment in order to support herself, she knows from her mother’s experience with her alcoholic father not to depend on anyone. That is until travelling businessman Rick Pantanelli decides to visit her bar. He is a handsome, well-off, successful professional and her senior by a full 17 years.

Camille is used to doing everything she is expected to do. But when she meets Rick she is swept away by his good looks, his charm and his ability to take care of her. Rick is used to getting what he wants. But when he meets Camille he is swept away by her beauty and her inner fragility. He finds himself believing he can take care of her. Is this belief strong enough to make him a better man?

Author

Kimberly Livingston visited Disneyland for the first time as a young girl. Since then the magic has infused into her blood and she remains an avid Disney fan! She lives in Colorado with her own Prince Charming. In the Eyes of an Angel is Kimberly Livingston’s first published novel.  On A Run is her second novel.  Please connect on  twitter @KLnovels

Extract

Thursday morning’s alarm went off. Camille for a moment could not think of what day it was or why there was that noise in her ear. She then realized the day, the time, and the fact that she had to get up to review her notes prior to taking her exam so she could pass. Dragging herself from her bed she crossed the ice cold floor of her dungeon-like room.

Camille shared a six-bedroom Victorian home near campus with five other girls; strangers, for the most part. She had moved in with some friends last summer, just having broken up with the guy she lived with and forced to find a new residence. After only a semester the friends all moved to different apartments. Camille couldn’t afford the security and rent deposits to move again so stayed, thinking that for another year it couldn’t be too bad. She was wrong. Luckily, she had the bedroom in the basement, which, though dark, was the largest. The basement had its own outside entrance and the bedroom door could lock. There was a bathroom just outside the room that the other girls rarely used because it was down the stairs and only a three quarter bath. Camille quit going upstairs altogether; even to visit the one cupboard that was technically “hers” in the kitchen. More often than not she found that when she put any groceries in the cupboard they would be gone by the time she wanted them. The same went for the refrigerator, which was disgustingly covered in food spills and generally only contained cases of beer, sour milk, and left over margaritas. Camille had bought herself a small refrigerator and microwave for her bedroom and kept what few snacks she had there.

This morning, Camille unsteadily stumbled to the door, which she unlocked with the key and went to shower. She had begun to rehearse what she remembered from the text but found herself thinking of other things instead. Standing in the shower Camille’s mind flitted with thoughts of her living situation; her lack of money; her future; her job; then just as subconsciously of the Chivas that ordered the night before. She smiled a rare smile
these days. She thought about his out of place looks in the bar. Too well dressed, too put together, too fine. Oh so fine.

The shower was getting cold. Someone upstairs must have begun to shower, stealing her hot water. Camille turned off the faucet and dried off. It was just as well, she was going to run out of time to study if she didn’t hurry.

Camille drove the four blocks to class today instead of walking, partly because she had to go to work right after her final hour and partly because of the cold. She thanked the parking lot gods for leaving her a space closer to her class than her house and went into the building. It was going to be a sunnier day today and she felt better for it.

Camille slipped into her seat at the back of the room next to her friend Jennifer.

“God, you look like shit !” Jen greeted her. “Did the girls have another party last night?”

Camille’s roommates were not in college due to scholarships. They did not even appear to be going for any particular reason other than to socialize late into each evening. The loud parties were infamous with many other non-scholarship receiving youth glad to be away from their parents’ watchful eyes, if not their wallets.

“Thanks, hi to you too. No, I had a late night at work. I didn’t get home until after three.”

“My god girl, how do you do it?”

“Pure necessity!” Camille replied, which was the truth of it. Her life, at the moment, seemed to be made up of necessities. She worked and she studied to stay in school and she went to school because…… because she hoped that someday it would get her to a point where “necessity” was no longer a word in her vocabulary.

Camille had picked a degree that seemed secure; one that would always provide her a job regardless of the economy, one that didn’t rely on too many other people. Accounting suited Camille’s ideals perfectly, she thought. She liked numbers. They were reliable, predictable, quiet. Camille always had difficulty telling people her major. Invariably she would get the comment, “You don’t look like an accountant.” She never knew what that meant. What did an accountant look like? Camille had no idea that what she looked like to others was a dancer, or a famous actress not yet discovered, or an angel. In fact, Camille had no thoughts as to her own beauty, inner or outward. This innocence was what made her so darn attractive. Somehow, she managed not to notice men looking at her. She kept to herself and always had. Perhaps it was a protective barrier she kept around herself to keep herself from getting hurt.

Camille had had only a few relationships in her life. After high school, she met someone early in her freshman year at the University. He was older than her by ten years and what some would call a professional student: always in school, never graduating. He had changed majors so many times he could hardly remember what they all were. He lived off of student loans, and as long as he stayed in school he didn’t have to pay them back. Camille was invited to move in with him soon after they began to date. She did so because half the rent was cheaper than paying for the dorms. He seemed like the “right one” to her. After a while, though, she realized that she was just helping him to pay for his way of life. He drank, which began to become more noticeable, and Camille was fairly sure he was unfaithful, though she never had evidence. While at first he had seemed romantic, she soon found that he was the type to forget her birthday, forget her at all it seemed. After going home for the summer of her sophomore year, she broke up with him. She did it over the phone. She did it from home. He kept pleading with her not to leave, and when she
arrived at the airport he was there with flowers and candy waiting. Too little too late.

If this sounds like your type of read you can find it on amazon kindle.

 

Advertisements

Posted on March 20, 2017, in #am writing (and all things writing related) and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Please share your thoughts with me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: