{Tour} Lola Carlyle’s 12-Step Romance by Danielle Younge-Ullman (Excerpt + Giveaway)

***Excerpt***

Thanks for having me! For today’s blog post, I am posting an excerpt from my debut YA novel, LOLA CARLYLE’S 12 STEP ROMANCE. A bit of set-up: Lola has faked her way into rehab to “rescue” a boy she loves, and thinking it’s not a serious rehab, but more of a spa. Sadly, she’s wrong, and soon she’s butting heads with Adam, her mentor—ie the person in charge of getting her settled in the program. This scene happens a few hours after Lola lost her temper and poured coffee on Adam. (Did I mention she doesn’t adjust well to the program?)

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“Look,” I say, head snapping up finally to brave his gaze, “if you would stop giving me shit for five seconds, I would apologize!”

“Wow,” he says. “This should be good.”

“Except you’re annoying me again already, and that makes it hard to keep feeling remorseful. Which I am, actually.”

He shakes his head and turns, as if to leave.

“Wait!” I stand. “Please don’t leave.”

He turns back. Still having trouble looking into his eyes, I glance down and notice he has changed his clothes into a darker pair of jeans and a rather tight T-shirt. I wonder if he keeps extra ones here, or if he went home to Venice. I wonder when he finds time to work out, because obviously he does. Maybe he does it in one of the gyms here…

Amazing what my brain will jump to when I’m avoiding something difficult.

Focus, Lola.

I yank my gaze up—God, what if he thinks I’m ogling him on top of everything else?—then I fill my lungs with air and let it all out in one long sentence. “I really am sorry; it was totally out of line to pour coffee on your stuff and I truly, honestly feel terrible about it and I really, really promise I won’t
do it again.”

“Okay.”

“And I want to add that it was very uncharacteristic behavior for me and I’m sure my parents will pay for the dry cleaning bills for the couch and your clothes, and for replacing your binder or the paper, or whatever. Seriously. In fact go ahead and get yourself a designer leather binder and, like, paper made from
Indonesian silkworms or Mexican bark or whatever. I know you’re actually a hardworking guy.”

“Uh…thanks.”

“That’s it? ‘Thanks’?”

“But I’ll pass on the silkworms. What were you expecting?”

“Well…it was a big step, I thought.”

“To apologize?”

“Yes! And I was very sincere, Adam.”

He walks closer, never taking his eyes off me. “Good.”

“And I’m embarrassed. I have no idea what came over me.”

“Because you’re usually one hundred percent charming,” he says with a smirk, now only a step away from me and staring right into my eyes like he’s trying to gauge my sincerity.

“Exactly,” I say, but then, again, I find myself looking away. “And I don’t want you to think I’m…I don’t want you to hate me.”

I must be looking pathetic all of a sudden because Adam puts his hands on my shoulders. His skin is warm but instead of soothing me, it makes me jumpy. Then he squeezes and says, “Relax, Lola. It’s all right.”
I reach up, thinking I need to pull his hands off my shoulders and step away, but instead I find myself—WTF?—falling into him for a hug like some kind of desperate little girl, or not-so-little girl. And he lets it happen. He actually wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, and it feels—crap, I can’t put words to it; I don’t know. We’re not that physical a family and in general I don’t hug a lot of people, so it’s kind of a shock. He smells really nice—clean and somehow sharp and he’s so warm and solid, and it…aches. Shit. To my horror I suddenly feel like I might cry.

“You’d have to dish out a lot worse than that for me to hate you,” he says.

“Okay,” I say, blinking hard, swallowing, keeping my face turned away, head on his chest as I try to pull myself back together.

“But please,” he says, “don’t take that as a challenge.”