Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
The Boy Who Loved Wicked by C.P. Harris
“The madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings.”
-Plato
Day 1 of senior year at Denwin High was not supposed to end with my thoughts consumed by the new AP Philosophy teacher. I’d impatiently waited three years to take the course, but from the moment he strode in with his sad eyes that mirrored my own, I was intrigued by only him.
Dr. Sebastian Wicked.
Intrigue turned into obsession, and common interests set the stage for a tentative friendship with the enigmatic man. In time, every line put in place became blurred as what we shared sparked the flames of a forbidden affair. An affair that should’ve never been, a wrong that the universe sought to right.
There was only one possible outcome—we were both going to burn. Would our love rise up from the ashes? Or would it smolder in the ruins?
My name is Phoenix Michaelson, and I am The Boy Who Loved Wicked.
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I’m not sure how much of the movie I’d made it through before going against Mr. Wicked’s warning and falling asleep, but when he slid an arm behind my knees and one behind my back and hefted me up and into his chest, I’d never been more happy that I disobeyed an order in all my life. I pressed my face into his chest and breathed him in, hoping he’d think I was unaware of my own actions. Being in his arms made me feel insignificant, in a good way. A feather in the hands of a giant.
In Mr. Wicked’s arms I was protected. If I imagined we were in a forest, I’d reach a hand out and run it over the tops of the trees as we passed. I’d peek behind his shoulder and see large craters in the earth that housed his footprints. Already, I loved being overwhelmed by him.
When he laid me down in what I assumed to be the guest room, covered me and turned to leave, I opened my eyes in time to see him at the threshold of the room. Tension rode along his back as he gripped the door handle with one hand and the frame with the other. I pretended to still be asleep when his gaze returned to me. I could feel him standing there. Watching. I tried to keep my breathing even, but every second that passed with him seeming to be making some decision, my lungs burned with the need to take in gulping breath after breath. Waves of his emotions hit me, the tide threatening to drown me. I wanted to understand what he was feeling, but I couldn’t put a name to it. Except it felt like he was struggling with himself and losing the war. Then, he left, the door clicking closed.
I lay on my back, running my shaking hands down my face. I wished I knew more. I wished I had insight into what to do now. Did something need to be done?
If someone had asked me to explain what triggered my interest in Mr. Wicked, what sent me crawling over the edge, it was his sadness.
I fell in love with his sadness first.
To celebrate the release of The Boy Who Loved Wicked, we are giving away an e-bundle of all 3 of C.P. Harris’ novels!
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About the Author:
Connect with C.P.:
Website: www.cpharrisauthor.com
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